Hissan Butt is a medical student at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario
I recently learned that two Canadian medical students died in the past three weeks. Little is known about the circumstances surrounding these deaths.
However, this has not stopped worried Canadian medical students from speculating about the causes of death. The speculation arises not because of a desire to gossip. Rather, I think, it stems partly from a lack of information and partly because of fear. At the time of writing, most believe that the students died by suicide. One university has acknowledged the of one of the students, although the cause is not identified.
The silence is justified - we are told through unofficial sources – by a request from the families to respect their right to privacy. We are also told that talk might spark copying. Indeed, any decent person should want to respect the wishes of the bereaved families, to help them grieve and lighten their burden in this difficult time. There is no need for naming, but there is a need to talk. ...continue reading
University of British Columbia
Class of 2017
This spoken word was written after the death of a friend as a reflective means to express the feelings and questions one might have coming from a medical background and frame of mind. In particular, the poem explores how medicine, religion, and poetry itself may be part of one’s search for closure, but also how closure may not always be found.
Medical School is where i learned that:
The Key To Self-Care As A Professional Physician Is In Practicing The Art Of Self-Reflection.
but in my sleeplessness i’m tired of staring at my
over the place,
unable to write, my fingers only finding the broken keys
like the way i can break up the smile in a simile
it amounts to a mountain of imagery but at the summit’s summary,
i find myself saying nothing. i should have said something.
how can you heal someone when you are part of the disease?
she knew, she must have known that
deep down we are all children reaching with dirty hands to grasp the cookie jar,
earnestly longing for more ice cream before we have to go home
where Our Father is.
her name was Suicide. ...continue reading
Photo credit: Heather Pollock
is a Juno Award winning singer-songwriter from St. John's, Newfoundland. Amelia has toured extensively throughout North America, the UK, Europe and Australia.
I used to think suicide was cowardly. I was angry with my friends who committed such an act. I avoided those who had tried to end their lives but lived. Then in 2004, with the death of my friend and roommate RM, I obediently cut her obituary out of the paper to put with the rest and discovered some were missing and that I had lost count of my dead friends.
I had lost count. I was twenty-six at the time and I had lost count. I was living through a plague that was taking people from me and I had not bothered to notice. ...continue reading