Tensegrity

A Literary and Arts Magazine by and for the Michigan State University Health Professional Colleges: College of Human Medicine

College of Nursing

College of Osteopathic Medicine

College of Veterinary Medicine

Editor-In-Chief

Melissa Anderson-Chavarria, G3, DO-PhD program, MSUCOM

Faculty Advisor

Dr. Jessica Heselschwerdt, M.D.

Editorial & Design Team

Maya Braden, OMS-II, MSUCOM

Dimitri Joseph, G1, DO-PhD program, MSUCOM

Naveen Kakaraparthi, OMS-III, MSUCOM

Serena Soleimani, OMS-II, MSUCOM

Jordan Walker, OMS-III, MSUCOM

Cindy Zhang, OMS-III, MSUCOM

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"Obsession,

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"Curious

"Learning

We, the editorial board, are honored to bring this second volume of Tensegrity Literary and Arts Magazine to life. Tensegrity is a principle in osteopathic medicine that refers to the synergistic tension among the internal components within the human body that lends integrity to its structure. These components may be interpreted as both anatomical (tension within the musculoskeletal system) and as mutual tensions and connections between the mind, body, and spirit. Inherent within the concept of tensegrity is the necessity of balancing these tensions to create the optimal meeting of forces. And so, in acknowledgment of this, the editors have selected ‘balance’ as the theme of this volume. We strove to provide a way for members of the MSU health professional colleges community to use creative writing, photography, and visual art to express how they juggle the rigors of service in the health professions and their personal responsibilities, hobbies, and passions outside of their work.

Not long after issuing the first call for submissions for this volume, the COVID-19 pandemic began, and life took a radical turn. In response to this, the editorial board adapted the theme of this journal to reflect the times—Balance in the Era of COVID-19. The creative pieces you are about to enjoy were produced at different time points throughout this dramatic period, and revealed shifting perspectives that might be all too familiar and relatable. Moreover, we discovered that sometimes, not every piece was fully complete, fully realized, and yet…that felt appropriate. What each person has experienced in this last one and a half years cannot be fully encapsulated into words or art. Like the masks that we now don everywhere, obscuring much of the face behind it – some things will be hidden, ineffable. And that is okay.

It is our hope that Tensegrity: Volume 2 will offer a snapshot into how members of our MSU health professional colleges community have sought balance during this tumultuous and historic time. These creative pieces convey the highs, the lows, and everything in between within the era of COVID-19. There is both joy and sorrow reflected in these pages, capturing the wild and at-times overwhelming twists and turns of the lives of health professionals in a time of global health crisis. It has been a privilege to provide a creative outlet and platform for our community during this time. We thank these writers, photographers, and artists as we present to you, Tensegrity Volume 2: Balance in the Era of COVID-19.

- The Editors

“I don’t know, Dr. H. I just have so many worries about it.”

Marie, age 62, was meant to be seeing me about knee pain. After a quick exam, some reassurance, and a PT prescription, I should have been on to the next patient on my busy Friday schedule. But I asked Marie if she’d gotten the COVID vaccine yet, and she had some questions for me. What if it causes cancer? I heard it wasn’t tested for very long. Will it give me COVID? What if it’s worse than COVID? My husband says I should get it, but I don’t know. I’m scared. What do you think?

40 minutes into her 15 minute appointment, Marie still wasn’t so sure. As she walked toward check-out: “I just don’t think it’s for me. But thank you for taking the time to talk about it.” I left that appointment feeling unmoored and off-balance- not simply because I was now running behind schedule, but moreso because the weight of this pandemic seemed crushing, and I felt helpless to change it. Life, both in the clinic and in the classroom, looks very different now than it did before words like “coronavirus” and “social distancing” entered our national vocabulary over a year ago. I now view my patients from behind foggy goggles, or through a computer screen. I leave clinic with deep indentations on the bridge of my nose. I teach via Zoom, doctor via Zoom, attend book club via Zoom, celebrate birthdays via Zoom. I feel deeply afraid when I see a maskless face in public. I feel deeply angry when I see people spread false vaccine information. I have witnessed more tragedy this year than I ever have before.

But I have also witnessed resilience. I have seen patients who have sewn masks for their entire neighborhood. I have seen students who had their medical school experience turned upside down, yet persisted in tireless pursuit of their education. I’ve seen patients proudly waving their vaccine cards. I’ve seen students channel their energy into helping others, volunteering virtually even when they couldn’t in person. And I’ve also seen them create art.

You’ll find some of that art here, in Tensegrity’s second edition. I’m enormously proud of the efforts our students have made over these long, difficult months to collect these pieces. And I’m thankful for the students, faculty, and staff of our allied health colleges who have chosen to share their work so that we may share it with you. You may find some of your own emotions reflected here in these pages- isolation, frustration, despair-- but also, hope.

Today, things are still far from normal, but there is some hope on the horizon as vaccination rates rise. I am confident that whatever comes next, our students and our patients will continue to adapt and find their balance as we enter each new phase of this changed world. The Monday after Marie’s appointment, I logged onto the electronic health record. Among the messages that had come in over the weekend was one from Marie: “I just wanted to let you know I got my vaccine on Saturday!”

And just like that, my own sense of balance was, if just for a moment, restored.

- Dr. Jessica Heselschwerdt, MD

Polarized

-medium: mixed media collage

The world we once knew has rapidly transformed through COVID and this can send the mind into a spiral. This collage highlights how the mind polarizes things but when remembering the raw nature of being human —we are body, mind and spirit —the mind can loosen it’s grip.

Be Still

Balance is a concept we frequently recommend to patients but, often, struggle with inside our own lives. Just as the tenets of osteopathy call us to, I strive to balance my body, mind, and spirit. This way, no matter which season of life I am in, I always have my priorities straight, a sense of fulfillment, and a strong foundation to stand on.

Seven years ago I took a hot yoga class in a packed studio. A R&B playlist bumped loudly overhead, as the woman next to me sporadically sang along with the music. Afterwards she smiled at me and said, “It was nice to practice with you!” I was new to yoga so this was the first time I considered yoga to be a practice, a word signifying a skill performed repeatedly in order to improve proficiency. I reflected on those words; “A practice, by nature, is an acknowledgement that we are not perfect – but we are working on it.”

Many perceive yoga as a practice of flexibility – but in fact, it is a practice of balance. The practice of balancing sthira and sukha, Sanskrit words loosely translating to strength and softness, effort and ease. The practice of balancing breath, matching each intentional inhale with each measured exhale. The practice of balancing our bodies, physically balancing on one foot or both hands, and mentally balancing our resistance with acceptance. As a recently graduated fourth year medical student and brand new resident physician, I delight in the way both yoga and medicine are considered a practice, an acknowledgement of imperfection. I practiced and taught yoga throughout medical school and found the physical and mental aspects of yoga to be a steady force that helped me maintain balance over the past four years. And now, facing the start of my career as a physician, I cannot imagine one practice without the other.

The first year of medical school reminds me of child’s pose, a common way to begin a yoga class. Newlyminted medical students are fresh and eager sponges ready to absorb information. As we start small and settle into our practice, we accumulate knowledge but are unable to do anything with it yet. Sometimes we wonder if we are doing enough, moving enough, learning enough. We try to be patient, settling into steady breath, allowing this early part of our journey to set the tone for the years to come.

Second year is like sun salutations. We start to work our way through routine movement, create physical and mental heat, and work our way through familiar patterns. We become eager and excited to progress in our practice as we cultivate muscle memory. We begin to move with tempo, inhaling and expanding, exhaling and contracting. As we grow more comfortable with our role, we gain knowledge and confidence. The practice starts to feel good.

Our third year resembles the practice of including a peak pose, where one sequences a class to prepare for a specific difficult posture. Movements become intentional, similar to how professionally we orient our energy toward determining a future specialty. We rotate through clerkships, shifting through various poses, searching for that ideal balance of effort and ease – of strength and softness. We learn to sit with discomfort, to continue to breathe through the parts that don’t fit right. We hope we have learned enough, seen enough, prepared enough that when we finally reach the peak pose, we will be ready.

Finally, fourth year brings us to corpse pose, savasana, our practice of stillness – the time to soak in all of the physical and mental work we have done as we prepare to start anew. Often the most challenging part of practice is that it necessitates full relaxation and quiet – and we as humans are quite skilled at finding distractions to prevent us from being fully present with ourselves. When we finally allow ourselves the chance to rest, we close our eyes and see how far we have come.

Sometimes, however, the distraction is too big to ignore. This year, savasana was thrown off course by coronavirus, and my graduating classmates and I will begin as interns in the midst of COVID-19. Instead of festive graduation celebrations and traveling abroad, we are participating in virtual ceremonies and baking banana bread at home. We proudly watch healthcare providers put their own lives at risk each day, knowing that we will soon follow in their footsteps. We endure the inevitable instability that accompanies uncertainty, and bravely remember that we chose a life of service.

I lean on my yoga practice, both physical and mental, to keep me grounded and balanced as my colleagues and I dive headfirst into a global pandemic.

Yoga teaches me the importance of being fully present. Whether it is moving on my yoga mat or giving a patient my undivided attention, yoga is where I learned to cultivate the breath to both keep me steady in a challenging posture and to keep me focused under a sterile gown in a hot operating room. Yoga emphasizes observation without judgment-- to notice my own body’s flexibility and to learn about a new patient. Through instability, doubt, insecurity, and fear, I return to my practice to find balance. In yoga and medicine: I am an expert in neither, but I am practicing both.

- Caitlin McCarthy, MD, MSUCHM Class of 2020

Haiku about my cat, ru

Bewildered Ms. RU

As innocent as she looks The pieces will fall.