Shubham Shan is a medical student in the Class of 2019 at the University of Toronto
How to read a :
- Read the left hand poem as a first discrete poem.
- Read the right hand poem as a second discrete poem.
- Read the whole as a third integrated poem.
Matthew Lee is a medical student in the Class of 2019 at Dalhousie University
I was totally unsure. Meeting a patient who knows they are going to die... wouldn’t it be intrusive, at the end? A student coming into your life: asking questions, getting signatures, asking you to share your precious time. In the same position, I don’t know if I would say yes. That thought makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. Checking in on the floor, with information hurriedly scribbled into the margins of a notebook. A brief run-in with her mother in the crowded room, then twenty minutes spent in the hallway — trying not to be obtrusive while staff hurry by. There are visitors every day, and I doubt I looked out of place.
In some ways, I chose to take on this project in order to become more comfortable with death. It’s something I have faced before, and it took years to move past my friend dying from lymphoma. He quickly stepped away to take a phone call at our convocation. It was a biopsy result. Nearly six months to the day and it was all over. It took nearly everything I had. ...continue reading
Sunjit Parmar is a medical student in the Class of 2019 at the University of British Columbia
Warmth as hostility in a cruel summer’s dream:
Surrounded by the thick, humid mid-summer air, I await the prickling breeze of late November.
I drift beneath the cool, dark shadows... a nearby cedar sways above.
Aware of the fiery weather, a sheath of saline smothering me, I mindlessly plunge into a slow, warm stream. Upset by the warmth of the swampy summer water, I catch sight of my reflection: a suddenly aged man. I look away. ...continue reading
Michael Gritti is a medical student in the Class of 2019 at the University of Toronto
“To induce asystole as needed.”
Looking the decision in the face
wasn't as simple as I'd thought, I conceded.
But, simply, was it right? Was it just?
Eighty millimoles of potassium chloride: ...continue reading
University of Toronto
Class of 2016
Class of 2017
The curtains were drawn, I walked into the room,
Looked at the lady, and said, “How do you do?”
She was very kind, just a little bit addled,
But the doctors around us were really quite baffled
Had she had a stroke? Was it from the MVC?
There was nothing at all to see on the multiple CTs
Save a little bit of shadowing, in the corner over here
But the pictures were too blurry. No, not a single thing was clear!
So they made a few calls, and then made a couple more
They met with the consultants on every single floor
They put their heads together, and came up with an answer
“It’s so obvious!” they said. “She has metastatic cancer!”
Class of 2016
This piece was originally created for and showcased at Creating Space V (a White Coat, Warm ART exhibit in Vancouver, BC from April 24 to 28, 2015). It collects words and phrases that have been lost during clinical training, some due to superstition, others due to social pressures or encounters with patients.
Get Back Home
Take Good Care of You
Kevin has also published a piece titled "Learning From Experience" on our Blog. For more of his work, check out his or follow him on Twitter @AbootMedicine.
Class of 2017
Patient M. presents to clinic,
Melanoma of the Heel.
Radial forearm free flap,
Doing well post-op.
Day 1 - How is the flap?
It's looking well-perfused, Dr.
Day 2 - Is it congested? Should we revise?
University of Ottawa
Class of 2016
Upon being accepted to medical school in 2012, I received a special edition of “Oh, the Places You’ll Go” from a personal mentor; reminding me to not just look ahead, but to remember and cherish the distant memories that shape who we are. I recently stumbled upon this memorabilia when I returned home over the March Break, and sat down to write this poem.
This poem is a testament to the physician’s inner-child and the ‘art’ of medicine. ...continue reading