Vinamratha Rao, MD-PhD Third Year
I lay beside you
and dream of
our becoming
at the close.
Will our skin slip off
into a heap
of tangled velvet ribbons
on this plush earth,
where sleepy worms burrow?
I lay beside you
and dream of
our becoming
at the close.
Will our skin slip off
into a heap
of tangled velvet ribbons
on this plush earth,
where sleepy worms burrow?
Every night I stood still and stared into the mirror,
until my reflection seemed to move on its own.
This body of mine,
does not feel like home to me.
There was a woman who slept here,
tucked into silken membranes
as she sighed into the stale, unbroken air
of my peritoneum.
“I woke up after a nap one day with quite a bit of inspiration, so immediately I went to write this short story.”
“Welcome to Summer Camp,” the sign read. The excitement was palpable; the lot of us were all clamored together in that first courtyard. No one here had been to camp before, despite everyone being different ages. From the younger middle-schoolers, to the older of us high-schoolers, everyone was witness to the halcyon summer about to unfold. I knew going in that it was a goal of the summer camp to grow the older campers into leaders so that they’d come back the next year as counselors, and quite frankly, I was all-too-naïve and looking forward to the recognition and responsibility that would soon come with it. As we waited for the counselors to join us, I took in the moment.
Continue reading “The Slide”It’s 6:45 a.m. I show up early to my shift to get reports and collect vitals on my patients before the interruption of breakfast trays and morning rounds.
The summarized information I carry with me as I approach room 209: “72-year-old woman, here for GI bleed. Colonoscopy expected tomorrow, night shift will start bowel prep. Rheumatoid arthritis. Encourage Q2 turns. 2x assist, gait belt/walker, requires assistive devices to eat. Dysphagia diet II. Q4 vitals. Uses bedside commode. Expected discharge in one day if scope is benign.”
And the undocumented background given by nightshift: “‘Mrs. RA’ is VERY particular during mealtimes. You MUST cut everything up and put her “squishy” handle on the silverware. Her straw must point to her, and the drink must be on the right side. She has failed getting through bowel prep twice—so be encouraging today. Also, she yelps a lot when you try to move her, she’ll want to refuse Q2 turns. Her daughters will come in a lot. She likes a lot of blankets. Let’s just say she’ll hit her call button a lot.” Continue reading “Choose Humanity”
I am almost always numb. When I can feel the pain, though, it takes control over all five senses.
Mostly my hearing. All of the others—except, I suppose, touch—become nonexistent. My vision is reduced to flashes of light and dark, obscured and blurred through tears. There is no taste or smell. Continue reading “1077: Slowly, They Will Know the Truth”
If all we see is our own goodness,
but reject the darkness within,
where does that really put us?
When our side is the only truth,
the world around us crumbles,
and spiritual death takes our youth.
But what if we see our evil,
listen to the figure calling from the dark wall,
the voice who tries to catch us
well before we fall? Continue reading “A Shadow in the Light”
I always knew I wanted to become a physician, but after graduating from the University of Kansas in 2014 with a GPA and MCAT score considered “non-competitive”, I took measures to bolster my resume. With two years of employment, volunteering, shadowing and several medical school interviews under my belt, I ultimately received an envelope from the KU School of Medicine in February 2016. I Skyped my mother and sister so they could witness my life transform in real time. As I peeled back the tri-folded single sheet of paper, my eyes immediately flew to the second sentence: “Unfortunately…” I half-heartedly skimmed the rest of the letter without saying a word. My mother and sister read the shame on my face. I received several more letters just like this one in the following weeks.
Continue reading “Congratulations, but Being Black Probably Helped”
I showed up to group today, a young man in a sweater.
One man was there, tattered sweatshirt and Chiefs ball-cap.
Two others walked in, both gay but not together.
An old man followed, grey hair, torn jeans.
Finally a woman, young and anxious,
joined our little commune.