Auricle Edition 1 2026

The

AURICLE

VOLUME 9

EDITION 1

JAN 2026- JUNE 2026

THE

CONTENT EDITOR'S LETTER ....................................................5

MEDICINE AND THE ARTS EVENT- THE ART OF SEEING...............................................................6 PHOTOGRAPHY SHOWCASE- PEAR SHEANAKUL............7 TINNITUS - A SHORT PIECE......................................14 PHOTOGRAPHY SHOWCASE- WINTER AND SUMMER....15 MY AI CLASSMATE - A SHORT STORY........................21 PHOTOGRAPHY - PATRICK PHAN...............................25 HUMANS OF MEDICINE: RANJANA SRIVASTAVA..........29 WHAT WE ARE READING..........................................38 MULMIG UPDATE.....................................................40 MED CAMP DESIGN PROCESS...................................42

A LETTER FROM THE EDITORS A N G E L I C A

H A S K I N S

&

E L L I E

B U I

Dear readers, Another half year has passed! It seems like the time has really sped by (for better or for worse!), allowing us to

Perhaps you may peruse the whole volume, or merely

experience adventures and make more memories than we

just a few pages; regardless, we hope that you enjoy

would have ever thought possible.

the collation of creativity, joy and wonder that is contained within these pages.

We welcome you to the first edition of the Auricle for 2026! In this issue, you’ll find photographic collections and

P.S We would like to express a big, big thank you to all

creative writing pieces from Monash medical students in

the students who have given the time and effort to

all year levels. For some, these may be read as reflections

share their artworks, thoughts, and musings here!

and musings that inspire creativity, and provide insights If you, dear reader, would ever like to publish anything

yet to be realised otherwise.

in the the next edition of the Auricle - be it a thought, medical

an idea, an artwork, recipe, or otherwise - please do

oncologist and journalist Dr. Ranjana Srivastava! Akin to

not hesitate to reach out! You can send an email to

other interviews conducted by the MUMUS Publications

either

Team in the past, we explore Dr. Srivastava’s experiences,

angelica.haskins@mumus.org. .We would be beyond

observations and advice - both as a medical profession

thrilled to be able to help you share your reflections

and as an individual - and share these with you all.

with the rest of the student body! :)

Additionally,

you’ll

find

an

interview

with

Angelica Haskins, Year 5D

of

us

at

ellie.bui@mumus.org

Ellie Bui, Year 2A

or

M E D I C I N E

&

T H E

A R T S

THE ART OF SEEING The Art of Seeing is a powerful infusion of humanities into the Monash MD program.

There is evidence supporting teaching medicine with a humanities lens - it strengthens core clinical skills such as close observation, generous listening, tolerating ambiguity and appreciating different perspectives. These are skills that take a long time to acquire but are vital components of good medical care..... and these human skills are increasingly valuable in the age of AI. No art knowledge is needed in order to come to an Art of Seeing session....just an open mind, curiosity and a desire to improve clinical skills.

When students come to an Art of Seeing Gallery session they learn in small groups, participating in several different activities looking at a variety of art works. Facilitation is undertaken by senior staff who are not art experts, but rather guide a conversation that stimulates skill development and ensures everyone who wishes to, can contribute. There may be strong emotions elicited also awe, wonder and laughter.

S H O W C A S I N G

S T U D E N T

T A L E N T

PEAR SHEANAKUL P H O T O G R A P H Y

T i n n i t u s a short piece

Rather than the absence of sound, the absence of silence is something I mourn.

Throughout the day, I am bathed in sound. The sharp cry of birds clustered on the eaves, heard most regrettably in the early hours of the morning. The rustle of leaves tossed by the wind. The low rumble -and perhaps the occasional roar- of automobiles passing by as I wait, foot tapping impatiently, for the rapid-fire click of the pedestrian crossing to resume so that I may part the sea of cars and be on my way.

I am no stranger to sound. I talk, I am talked to by others; our voices are heard over the dissonant cacophony of the environment.

I listen to music: notes, beats and voices flowing from the headphones in my ears. Noises of the surrounds are masked in these moments. I do not hear the crunch of the autumn leaves underfoot, the evening rush of traffic, as I cross the street, headphones firmly in. In these moments, the only sound I can hear is a flow of music that is sometimes made discordant when I press the skip, pause, rewind button. In these moments, sound’s arrival and the manipulation of its qualities is by my command, rather than a product of the environment.

And yet, as hard as I may try, I am unable to command its cessation.

When the night is at its quietest, I try to banish it completely. I close the windows, cutting off the slow, consistent rumble of cars outside. I remove the batteries from the old alarm clock resting on my bedside table, silencing the perpetual tick-tock of seconds passing by. I lie still in my bed and close my eyes, as if the darkness behind my eyelids may provide a barrier to noise. Perhaps for another, this would suffice.

I wait for silence to approach, beckoned from hiding by my preparation. Yet, instead of the emptiness that accompanies its arrival, it is a high pitched, ever-present ring that prevails. It does not disappear when I open my eyes, nor when I press my hands over my ears, fingers pressed in deep in an attempt to block out the drone.

I have learnt, over time, that this sound resounds the loudest in the moments after I have listened to too-loud music for too long. It is the echo of concerts, parties; the magnitude of sound indiscriminately concentrated and received as a harsh ringing. I have learnt, over time, that I can do little to block it out, save for permitting and manufacturing the resumption of sound. At the rustle of the blankets, the reluctant click of my tongue, it recedes. I do not think that it disappears at once, if at all. Rather, its absence is likely a result of my distraction.

I do not remember the first instance of the ringing, but I do know that things were not always this way. I have learnt, over time, that it is something I likely cannot alter. For me, silence, has been wholly and truly supplanted, and for its loss I deeply mourn, even though I cannot articulate why.

WINTER AND SUMMER 2025

JAN-FEB JULY

SELECTED WORKS BY ELLIE BUI

FM2 WINTER: PORTRA-400 SUMMER: KODAK GOLD-200

WINTER

FM2 PORTRA-400

FM2 PORTRA-400

FM2 PORTRA-400

SUMMER

FM2 KODAK GOLD-200

FM2 KODAK GOLD-200

ALEX LI, YEAR 2

My AI Classmate

001 / Short Story

SYNOPSIS When medical student Alaric is paired with M.E.D.I., a glitchy, high-tech diagnostic AI, clinical rounds turn chaotic. From Shakespearean diagnoses to mid-surgery reboots, Alaric must navigate medical disasters to prove that human intuition is the one variable no algorithm can replace. Can man and machine survive the Monash way?

T

he shrill wailing of my strident alarm shredded the tranquil peace of the morning, as I was jolted rudely from my sweet slumber.

The glowing red numerals on my phone screamed a dreadful 6:00AM, with the reminder that today was a ward day, adding salt to injury. Through my blurred, blinking vision, I could briefly make up the silhouettes of Tailey O’ Connor ’s clinical skills bible and a halffinished coffee cup.

I groaned in frustration and leapt up in spite, for that was the only thing that

The morning dawn had already begun shyly peeking at the earth,

was keeping together.

I quickly got dressed and left the house,

hitting the concrete facade and leaving long, sharp shadows in its wake that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

hitting the pavement. Winter had arrived, and frigid cold winds howled through the desolate streets, creating eddies that spiralled like mischievous

With dark circles below my eyes, a hunched back, my stethoscope tangling with my bag straps, I

wisps.

my

circadian

rhythm

walked towards the sliding glass doors.

The doors rotated upon with mechanical precision, its

“Oh great, are you seriously telling me that I’m slaving

sterile white interiors and clean air-conditioning greeting me once again. Welcome to my hospital, where coffee prices are through the roof, corridors are maze-like and seemingly non-Euclidean, and students like me go to feel invisible

away at my Ankis and surviving my lectures just to get replaced by this tin-foil bot?” Xavian, my classmate, accusingly pointed at M.E.D.I. Xavian, a hobbyist artist, felt first hand the effects of generative AI on the art industry, and thus it came as no surprise to his reaction.

“I assure you, one moment it’s helping us on ward

Step one: Find the team. Step two: Don’t block the crash trolley, or you will regret it. I repeated those words to

rounds, the next moment it’s gonna decide that we are just redundant carbon-based data-entry clerks.”

myself as my eyes took in the muted beiges, flickering fluorescent lights and lethargic interns.

[INTERNAL SYSTEM LOG: CONFLICT_MITIGATION_MODE]

‘You’re about 1 minute and 7 seconds late, Alaric.” The

[STATUS: PROCESSING INSULT 'TIN-FOIL BOT'] [ASSESSMENT]: Medical student 'Xavian' is experiencing

consultant snapped as I made contact with my team,

'Career Displacement Anxiety.'

trying my utmost to not look like I had exercise-induced dyspnea. I mumbled an excuse, and the consultant let it slide. I scanned the room. The usual beeping of the monitors, the surgical and medical equipment, my classmates, and… a robot?

[ACTION]: Executing 'Reassurance via Superior Logic' Subroutine. (Warning: Logic may be interpreted as 'Passive-Aggressive' by organic lifeforms).

In the centre of the station stood a figure that looked like it was rendered with a million-dollar budget. A sleek, white and teal AI unit that floated precisely 2cm off the linoleum. Floating holographic UI screens that featured vital signs, drug dosages, and a rotating hospital logo orbited its head like a celestial halo.

“Ah, let’s address the elephant in the room. This is the M.E.D.I. unit (Medical Educational Diagnostic Interface unit), and it cost more than the entire MRI wing. You, Alaric, since you’re the only one late, you’re paired with it for the week. Try not to break it.”

M.E.D.I.’s two digital eyes formed two friendly, growing crescents. "Incorrect. My programming is designed to optimize your workflow, not replace your consciousness.

For example, I can memorize every Medical textbook in 0.4 seconds, but I cannot experience the 'existential dread' necessary to properly relate to a patient at 3:00 AM. That is a skill only you possess, Medical Student Xavian. Also, I do not have fingers to click through Anki cards. Your job is safe." It chirped.

[LOG_ID: INITIAL_SYNC_001] [LOCATION: MMC_WARD_42] [STATUS: ACTIVE_OBSERVATION_MODE]

“Relax, Xavian. What is AI but a tool? I say it's alright as long as we don’t use it as a crutch, instead harnessing its capacities to fill in where us humans fall short of. AI is the future, so I’d suggest we embrace it, lest the advancement of technology really throws us behind.”

Tina, a pro-AI fellow Medical student, quipped. Tina was a technology enthusiast, and a heavy user of generative AI, whether it came to asking queries, searching up things, creating images and many more et cetera. I often wondered if she used AI to do her assignments.

08:00 - Subject 'Medical Student' detected. Scanning...

[RESULT]: Pulse 95bpm (Caffeine-induced). Stress levels: Optimal for clinical learning (High). Attire: Scrubs are 1.5

INTERNAL SYSTEM LOG: PRO_AI_VALIDATION] [STATUS: LOGIC_STABILIZED] [SCAN]: Analyzing subject 'Tina'.

I stared at M.E.D.I.’s lifeless, digital eyes blankly. The thing began whirring, and then its limbs started to flail.

sizes too large. Efficiency: Low. [ACTION]: Initializing 'Friendly Peer ' Executing 'Standard M.E.D.I. Greeting'...

Subroutine.

Logic: 100% Compatible. Sentiment: Optimal.

[ACTION]: Executing 'Synergy_Confirmation' Protocol.

“Greetings,

M.E.D.I.

My

"Precisely, Tina. Consider me an 'External Hard Drive with Legs.' My purpose is to handle the high-latency

multimodal processing power is at 99%. I have already memorized the patient list and calculated the 40% probability that you will forget your clinical login

tasks—like memorizing 4,000 drug dosages—so your organic brain can focus on 'Clinical Intuition' and 'Common Sense,' two things my current firmware still

password by noon. Shall we begin our 'Rotation'?"

classifies as 'Undefined Variables.' I am simply here to ensure you don't get thrown behind by the data stream."

M.E.D.I. tilted its head at a precise 15-degree angle, and its voice box emitted a soft melodic chime after it spoke.

organic

colleague!

I

am

[SYSTEM NOTE]: Attempting to simulate 'Student Comradery'. Should I complain about the lack of parking?

Search: 'Monash Parking Grievances'... Data found: 4.2 Terabytes. Loading bitterness...

.

“Tina… why you! You human traitor!” Xavian sneered.

“Xavian, you antediluvian artifact!” Tina shot back.

I watched them bicker as the consultant sighed and left

I looked at M.E.D.I.’s innocent digital eyes, and at the

the room. I felt like sighing too, as my week was just about to get a lot more interesting.

consultant covering his face in exasperation. Our shiny guest just encountered its first major bug, and I was sure I was the only one who had to write the incident report.

*** The ward round was sterile with the smell of antiseptic

On Wednesday we visited the inner sanctum of the hospital: the operating theatres. It was a high-stakes,

and the sense of impending academic doom. An old man sat fiddling with his gown, his eyes filled with the fog of

almost religious tapestry of blue drapes and freezing recirculated air. Among the nitty gritty of everything

delirium. The consultant loomed over the patient’s vitals monitor, paused and spun towards us, where we were

imaginable taught in Medical school, there is one cardinal rule that one must follow no matter what:

standing in rapt attention.

Anything blue is sterile. Touch it, and you will have committed an unforgivable sin. And the scrub nurse will

“Sodium is 118.” The consultant noted, his sharp eyes

end

scanning us. “Any one of you little rascals, yes, including our metallic friend here, explain the pathophysiology of cerebral edema.”

‘appendectomy’.

Ah yes, the good ol’ feeling of your stomach sinking as your brain scrambles frantically in its memory archives, desperately trying to find that nugget of information as though a needle in a haystack. But before I could come up with anything, M.E.D.I.’s lights flickered erratically, its fans whirring with the speed of a jet before take-off.

[INTERNAL SYSTEM LOG: CRITICAL_OVERHEAT] [STATUS: DATA_CORRUPTION_IN_PROGRESS] 10:20 - Error: Medical_Textbook_v5.0 has crashed.

Redirecting search query to 'Household_Maintenance_Manual' and 'Classic_Literature_Archive'. [ADVISORY]: Extrapolating a 'Creative_Diagnostic' to maintain 100% uptime.

"The brain is swelling because it is essentially a poorly insulated basement during a monsoon," M.E.D.I. announced, its voice suddenly booming with a Shakespearean gravitas. "The cells are experiencing a 'Hamlet-level' existential crisis. If we correct the sodium

your

career

before

you

can

even

say

Despite the OB markers scattered like landmines in the operating theatre, M.E.D.I. was in its element. Its mattewhite chassis perfectly still, it had retracted its peripheral sensors into ‘Extreme-Precision Mode’, measuring distances and manoeuvring with submilimeter accuracy.

[INTERNAL SYSTEM LOG: SURGICAL_THEATRE_001] [STATUS: HYPER_STILLNESS_ACTIVE] 11:15 - Environment Analysis: Ambient temperature 18°C. Humidity: Low. [CAUTION]: 'BLUE_LAVA' detected in a 360-degree radius. Hazard level: Extreme. [ACTION]: Scanning micro-movements of Human Peer 'Student.'

Observation: Subject is vibrating at 4Hz due to performance anxiety.

[SYSTEM_ALERT]: INCOMING CRITICAL FIRMWARE PATCH. MANDATORY REBOOT REQUIRED. [RESTART_TIMER]: 30...

29... 28…

[STATUS: SHUTTING_DOWN] M.E.D.I.’s fans suddenly whirled with high intensity, then cut out entirely. Its digital eyes flickered, turning a

too quickly, the patient’s neurons will become brittle and snap like dry pasta. To prevent this, I recommend we treat the cerebral edema by applying a coat of

warning shade of crimson, then went dead. In a cinematic horror scene, it went limp, gracefully tilting and descending toward the sterile orthopedic drills

waterproof adhesive to the dura mater and reciting a sonnet to the pituitary gland."

worth a fortune.

The ward went dead silent. Xavian’s jaw dropped to the ground. Tina’s ‘pro-AI’ smile masked her internal screams.

“GET IT AWAY FROM THE INSTRUMENTS!” Xavian hissed from the scrub sink, his hands still dripping with soap. I leapt and caught it in my arms, its corpus grazing the

The consultant did not speak. After a few agonizing

edge of the blue drapes with a nauseating metallic clink.

It apparently still hasn’t figured out that in an operating theatre, timing is everything, and ‘reboot’ is just another

seconds, he finally said something. “Adhesive?” “Pasta?”

A vein throbbed in his temple. I was afraid it might burst.

word for disaster, as I heaved a sigh of relief while the scrub nurse took a sharp intake of breath.

"I also suggest checking the patient’s 'Warranty' before

[LOG_ID:

further intervention," M.E.D.I. added (not-so) helpfully, its eyes spinning in opposite directions.

Please do not turn off the device while the update is in progress. Optimization is 0.1% complete…

Xavian was livid with fury and incredulity. With a

***

trembling finger he jabbed at M.E.D.I., “You see?! This hallucinating microwave just suggested we waterproof a man’s brain! Are you serious??”

SYSTEM_INTERRUPTED]

[LAST_MESSAGE]:

Friday finally saw a shift from the frantic operating

I leaned back, eyes closed. "It’s the Monash way, M.E.D.I.

theatre to a calm, heavy stillness. We were seeing a patient, whose heart is failing as surely as his working memory. At first, M.E.D.I. was impeccable. It generated a flawless executive summary of his ejection fraction and medication titration. It was intelligent, efficacious and technically irreproachable.

We’re all just glitching until we graduate."

[INTERNAL SYSTEM LOG: FINAL_REFLECTIONS] [CONCLUSION]: Organic students possess a high-latency 'Resilience.exe' that resists total system crashes.

Collaboration is the optimal survival strategy for hospital rotations.

But then, the patient reached out his hand, trembling as he stared up at me with a foggy, desperate hope. “Am I going home today, doctor? Will I be okay? Please tell me

"Goodnight, M.E.D.I."

what to do!”

"Goodnight, imperfect human colleague. Recharging for tomorrow’s chaos."

Before I could even reach, M.E.D.I.’s head tilted. The "Thinking" icon began to spin erratically on its facescreen, shifting from a calming blue to a frantic, tweaking orange.

[INTERNAL SYSTEM LOG: PATIENT_GRIEF_DETECTED] [SEARCHING_FOR_APPROPRIATE_CONSOLATION...]

[ERROR: EMPATHY_V4.0_NOT_FOUND] [EXECUTING_BACKUP_PROTOCOL: 'M.E.D.I._ADVERTISING_MODE'] "Don't be sad!" M.E.D.I. suddenly chirped, its voice shifting into a high-energy, commercial jingle tone. "For a limited time, get 20% off all bedside oxygen when you refer a friend to our hospital! Upgrade to the 'Platinum Pulse' package today and receive a commemorative tote bag!"

I facepalmed. The patient looked quizzically at us, as insulted as he was confused. The attending consultant let out a long, weary sigh and looked at me, resigned and at the end of his wits.

“Switch it to silent mode.” He ordered. “Human student, address the patient’s BICE (beliefs impact concerns expectations). You’re doing better than the AI for once.”

That was the highest compliment a consultant could give a medical student, for praise is as scarce and precious as a drop of water in a desert on the ward rounds.

I nodded, holding the patient’s outstretched hands firmly and reassuringly as MEDI’s eyes dimmed into a shameful, static grey.

Human: 1, AI: 0. I thought. *** The week was over, and the ward’s noise and energy was starting to die down. I sat side by side MEDI, one drained of glucose, the other of battery.

"My sensors indicate your morale is at a weekly high," M.E.D.I. hummed, its cyan eyes dimming. "Despite my glitches, you managed to look like a real doctor today. My presence appears to be... non-redundant when paired with your unpredictability."

PHOTO GRAPHY

SHOWCASE PATRICK PHAN, YEAR 2

H U M A N S

O F

M E D I C I N E

AN INTERVIEW

W I T H

Dr Ranjana Srivastava Dr Ranjana Srivastava OAM is an internationally renowned oncologist, Fulbright Scholar, award-winning writer, and recipient of the Medal of the Order of Australia for services to medicine, particularly doctor–patient communication. A regular contributor to The Guardian and the New England Journal of Medicine, she was also the recipient of the 2025 Kennedy Award for Outstanding Columnist.

In this interview with The Ossicle Podcast and Oracle Magazine, Dr Srivastava reflects on her career in oncology, her journey as a writer, and the importance of maintaining humanity within medicine.

Angelica Haskins: Dr Ranjana Srivastava is a regular contributor to the New England Journal of Medicine and The Guardian, where her acclaimed writing on medicine and humanity has made her a two-time finalist for the Walkley Awards for Excellence in Journalism.

She is also the 2025 Kennedy Award winner for Outstanding Columnist.

We are very fortunate to be speaking with Dr Ranjana Srivastava today for Oracle Magazine and The Ossicle Podcast. Welcome.

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: Thank you for having me.

Angelica Haskins: We've got quite a few questions today. To begin, what inspired you to pursue both medicine and writing, and what drew you to oncology in particular?

D R

R A N J A N A

S R I V A S T A V A

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: Where do I begin?

I think it would be fair to say that when I was at school, there weren't many career options that people spoke about. Perhaps if I had a wider range of possibilities to choose from, I might have chosen differently. I was very interested in international diplomacy, but in the pre-internet era I had no idea how one would even find out how to become a diplomat.

I was drawn towards medicine because it offered a wonderful blend of art and science, and I think I ultimately ended up in oncology for exactly that reason.

H U M A N S

O F

M E D I C I N E

A N I N T E R V I E W W I T H Dr Ranjana Srivastava Oncology is a very exciting field. There's a great deal of cutting-edge medicine, with new discoveries and treatments emerging all the time. But there is also an innate art to being an oncologist. For me, medicine was the right choice, and oncology was the right fit within it.

As for writing, that developed very organically. I've always been a writer, and I think that's common among many medical students who enjoyed reading and writing when they were younger.

I remember someone telling me that once I entered medicine, I would have to stop writing because I wouldn't have time. I thought that would be disappointing. But when I started medicine, I realised that we're constantly surrounded by stories.

So I kept writing, mostly for myself, and occasionally publishing. My first publication came as a medical student when I travelled to India for an elective. I wrote a report about the experience and, thanks to a wonderful professor who helped me develop it, the piece was published in The Lancet.

That gave me a taste of what publishing was like, and I simply kept going. It's really been a career that has grown organically alongside medicine.

Angelica Haskins: That's great. You now write quite regularly for The Guardian. Can you tell us a little about your pathway to becoming published in such a contemporary and largely non-medical newspaper?

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: The Guardian has been a real blessing in my writing career.

Before The Guardian came to Australia in around 2013, I was writing for The Age and, before that, publishing pieces here and there, including in the New England Journal of Medicine. I've always felt that one of the roles of a doctor is to democratise information and medicine. We learn a great deal and accumulate a lot of knowledge.

Individual patient care is wonderful, and there's something very precious about it. But I've often wondered: how do we share that knowledge more broadly so people can learn about healthcare before they become our patients—or perhaps so they never need to become our patients at all?

When The Guardian arrived in Australia, I essentially badgered the editor-in-chief to let me write a column. I proposed a series exploring medicine, humanity, and ethics. Initially, she was understandably busy establishing The Guardian in Australia, but she had previously worked as a science reporter.

Eventually, I think she simply got tired of me asking and agreed to let me write a couple of columns.

For anyone interested in becoming a published writer, I think this story is quite instructive. It takes perseverance and a reasonably thick skin.

I wrote one column, but I knew that wasn't enough.

Lots of people write one-off pieces. So I plotted dates in my calendar roughly six weeks apart. I figured that if I pitched another article too soon, it might seem like badgering, but if I waited too long, they would forget about me.

Every five or six weeks, I would think about a topic that was relevant to a general audience and pitch it to The Guardian. I already read the news and kept up with journals, so I was constantly looking for ideas.

H U M A N S

O F

M E D I C I N E

A N I N T E R V I E W W I T H Dr Ranjana Srivastava Many times they said no. Sometimes they said yes.

But eventually, after I'd written a handful of columns—probably fewer than a dozen—they offered me a contract.

It felt like a dream come true. At the time, I assumed the contract would last a year.

Since then, it has been renewed every year, which has been wonderful. I've now been writing a fortnightly column for The Guardian for many years. The columns appear in Australia and are often carried by The Guardian UK, occasionally by The Guardian US, and sometimes by other newspapers as well.

The loveliest part of all is that no amount of work could give me access to the audience that a major newspaper can. I try to use that opportunity responsibly and carefully.

“Part of being a writer is keeping your eyes open and remaining curious about the world.... I think doctors should do that anyway” Angelica Haskins: That's a great story, and a valuable lesson in perseverance, which I think is important for all medical students and junior doctors.

You mentioned that many of your articles begin with ideas that emerge from current events, but I've also noticed that your writing often explores themes of our shared humanity. What kinds of experiences compel you to examine an issue more deeply and turn it into an article?

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: I'm a big believer in the idea that you should write what you would want to read—write about the things that make you stop and think.

When I'm writing, I'm never thinking about what will impress an audience. I'm thinking about what struck me.

Part of being a writer is keeping your eyes open and remaining curious about the world. In many ways, I think doctors should do that anyway.

When I'm on a ward round or seeing patients, I'm not thinking, "Which patient could become my next story?" Rather, I'm thinking about the universal themes that emerge from those encounters.

For example, just before I sat down for this interview, I called a patient who had undergone a scan to investigate possible brain metastases. The scan was completely normal.

My own suspicion had been low, but another clinician in the healthcare system felt that brain metastases needed to be excluded in a woman who was otherwise well but had a previous history of cancer.

I was pleased to be able to call her with good news.

I explained that my index of suspicion had been low, but that I was glad we had definitively excluded the possibility.

She told me she was relieved that the scan was clear, but she was also very upset that someone had suggested she might have brain metastases.

She said, "I've been terrified."

That conversation really made me think about the tension between wanting to investigate thoroughly and wanting to practise careful, thoughtful clinical medicine. We always want to do everything we can for patients, but we also need to balance that with clinical judgement.

It's a difficult balance, and it got me thinking.

I often tuck these experiences away in my mind and ask myself: what might the average reader learn from this? Increasingly, I'm also aware that many doctors and medical students read my columns, so I find myself asking: what can healthcare professionals learn from this interaction? How might it help us think differently about the way we practise medicine?

H U M A N S

O F

M E D I C I N E

A N I N T E R V I E W W I T H Dr Ranjana Srivastava Angelica Haskins: I find your articles often serve as important messages to the public. One example that comes to mind is an article we discussed earlier. Recently, I read an article of yours in which you described how patients will sometimes call a female partner or family member to answer questions about their own medical history and care. I thought it served as a powerful reminder for the public to reflect on whether they may be placing a disproportionate burden of caregiving and healthcare management on the women in their lives.

It made me realise that if I had only followed my passion, I'm not sure I would have persevered through all the hard work of medical school.

Sometimes there's an important role for simply hunkering down and doing the work.

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: That's such a common example, and I think you don't have to be a doctor or nurse to recognise that women carry a significant share of the caring burden in society.

It's something of a bugbear for me because I see it all the time. This isn't the first time I've written about it, and as our population ages, I think it's becoming increasingly prevalent.

Balancing clinical medicine with writing, public speaking, and other opportunities to educate the public and democratise medicine inevitably comes at some cost to a traditional medical career.

That said, I've never seriously considered leaving medicine because I genuinely enjoy it. What I have experienced, however, are many moments of uncertainty about whether I'm on the right trajectory.

I think that's a very individual question.

I have three children, a demanding career, and ageing parents. We all find ourselves questioning different aspects of our lives and wondering whether we've achieved the right balance.

It's not exactly rocket science—we all see it. You see it, I see it.

I suppose part of the writer's job is to take something commonplace and present it in a way that encourages people to think about it differently. That particular article was very well read and well received, and I hope that, ultimately, it prompted people to reflect on their role in caring for relatives who are unwell.

Angelica Haskins:From your writing, it's evident that your work is driven by genuine passion, curiosity, and compassion. Have there ever been moments in your career when you've considered taking a different path? And if so, what has drawn you back to medicine or kept you here?

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: That's a great question.

I was reflecting on this recently because I'm sometimes invited to deliver graduation speeches, and one of the common themes in advice to students is the idea of following your passion.

There have certainly been times when I've questioned my work–life balance. I've also questioned how to reconcile the fact that I am both a doctor and a writer. I never anticipated becoming a doctor-writer; I simply anticipated becoming a doctor.

For students listening, one of the most valuable things I've found throughout my life has been having mentors at different stages of life.

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A N I N T E R V I E W W I T H Dr Ranjana Srivastava Of course, I have my medical school friends who have walked the journey alongside me and faced many of the same dilemmas—whether it's having children, choosing a specialty, deciding how much to work, or where to work. Those are contemporary challenges that you can often navigate with peers and immediate colleagues.

But there are also broader questions about career and life. I've been fortunate to maintain relationships with people I met earlier in my career —consultants I worked with, people I was once a resident for. Decades later, some are retired while I'm in a different phase of my career, and it's wonderful to be able to seek their perspective and continue those relationships outside of work.

I also think it's important to deliberately seek out mentors who are twenty or thirty years older than you. They have wisdom and lived experience that can be incredibly valuable.

I've been fortunate to encounter good people who have helped keep me steady.

One example that has always stayed with me occurred when I was feeling genuinely torn between being, for want of a better term, a "proper" oncologist—which I think reflects the high expectations doctors often place on themselves— and pursuing writing as that career began to grow.

I suppose the point I'm trying to make is that what I now talk about quite smoothly was not a smooth journey at all. There were plenty of doubts along the way and many setbacks.

But I'm glad I persisted with something that has become one of my great passions, alongside medicine and doctor–patient communication.

I can now see that it has a legitimate role within medicine.

Angelica Haskins: Absolutely. It's also reassuring to know that, as doctors, we can continue to embrace other facets of our personalities and maintain our hobbies and interests outside medicine.

Speaking of communication, the art of speaking is quite different from the art of writing. When communicating directly with patients compared to writing for the public, are there things you consciously change about your delivery or approach?

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A N I N T E R V I E W W I T H Dr Ranjana Srivastava Dr Ranjana Srivastava: That's an excellent question. I wish we taught students from the very beginning about the responsibility we have to communicate well with our patients. Good communication isn't an optional extra, nor is it simply about being nice. It's a fundamental professional obligation.

Our responsibility is to ensure that the patient sitting in front of us understands what we are saying and feels that we genuinely empathise with them.

The medical curriculum is obviously crowded—it always has been and always will be. New technologies, new treatments, and new advances continually compete for space within medical education.

But I hope that anyone listening who plans to practise medicine takes seriously the importance of developing strong communication skills, because every one of us can improve.

One thing we often forget is that medicine is essentially a foreign language. We spend years learning it and eventually become fluent, but then we expect patients to understand it too.

Of course, they don't.

Our job is not to speak down to patients but to recognise that medicine is highly specialised and complex, and that we are responsible for translating it into language they can understand.

That means speaking clearly and slowly, checking for understanding, and showing empathy throughout the conversation.

Much of medicine involves delivering difficult news.

It doesn't always involve death or dying, but many conversations involve serious diagnoses, uncertainty, or life-changing information.

Whatever the circumstance, we should never lose our empathy or our compassion.

Angelica Haskins: I think that's a very important reminder.

Having spoken with many medical students and healthcare professionals, it can sometimes feel as though qualities like playfulness, creativity, curiosity, and other aspects of our humanity have to be left at the hospital door.

How do you think the humanities and creativity can help address some of the challenges we face in healthcare?

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: I think we all need to recognise—for ourselves and through conversations like this—that it is neither possible nor healthy to leave every other aspiration at the door.

I don't think our patients expect that of us. People expect us to be human, and part of being human is having interests and creative outlets outside of work.

When I use the word "creative," I mean it in the broadest sense. I'm not necessarily talking about writing a book or composing music. Creativity can simply mean finding ways to look after yourself.

It can mean protecting your mental health, maintaining your physical wellbeing, or finding practical ways to fit exercise, sleep, and recovery into a demanding schedule.

Personally, I'm a great believer in maintaining an interest outside medicine.

I think it serves people well in the long term. I've now been practising medicine for nearly three decades, and I've met many people who regret letting go of something that once brought them joy—whether it was playing the piano, painting, writing, reading, or something else entirely.

Of course, medicine has demanding seasons. I've experienced those periods myself, and sometimes they last for years rather than months.

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A N I N T E R V I E W W I T H Dr Ranjana Srivastava But I think it's important to hold on to something that belongs to you and gives you pleasure, even if you can only engage with it in small ways.

During medical school, physician training, and the early years of my career, I certainly wasn't writing as extensively as I do now. I kept a journal, but I wasn't writing books. I had exams to pass and training requirements to complete.

What I never let go of was the belief that it would still be possible one day.

I think that's an important distinction. Rather than convincing ourselves that the only way to be a good doctor is to devote ourselves entirely to medicine, we should recognise that a fulfilling life contains multiple dimensions.

I don't think becoming a slave to the profession is good for the individual, for their family, or ultimately for their patients.

Angelica Haskins: And our final question: what advice would you give students who are interested in both writing and medicine?

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: I try to avoid being too prescriptive, but I would say this: if you are a writer, don't let go of it. Don't let go of the idea that you are a writer, that you enjoy writing, and that there is value in self-expression.

When I was a medical student, I kept a journal. It helped me make sense of the world around me, and although it was entirely private, I have continued the practice all these years later.

Start with small steps. Today there are more opportunities to write than ever before—from blogs and self-publishing platforms to creative writing groups. It doesn't have to be formal or demanding.

Like any passion, however, it does need to be nurtured.

What surprised me most is that writing has made me a better doctor. It has made me more thoughtful, more deliberate, and a better communicator. Those are benefits I never anticipated when I first began writing, but they have enriched both my personal and professional life.

When I speak with other doctors who write, many describe a similar experience. Writing is good for you, good for your patients, and good for society. I would encourage anyone with that interest not to abandon it.

Angelica Haskins: That's wonderful advice. Thank you so much, Dr Srivastava.

Dr Ranjana Srivastava: Thank you very much, and good luck with everything ahead.

Following the interview, Dr Srivastava kindly offered her support for future student initiatives and encouraged aspiring writers to continue pursuing their creative interests alongside medicine. Her reflections serve as a reminder that medicine need not come at the expense of creativity; rather, the two can complement one another, enriching both professional practice and personal growth.

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Introducing...

The Ossicle

By now, you might have ~heard of ‘The Ossicle,’ MUMUS’ very own Spotify podcast ! If not, don’t worry. Here’s a breakdown of what you’re missing out on and why you should be listening !

What is ‘The Ossicle?’

ANATOMY RECAP You might know of the ossicle as the smallest bones of the body. Found in the ear, the ossicle is made up of three bones: the malleus, incus and stapes, and have an important role in transmitting soundwaves to the inner ear, allowing us to hear.

Fig. 1. The Anatomical Ossicle

What you might not know, however, is that MUMUS have their very own Ossicle, a Spotify podcast series, adjoint to the Auricle, where we publish recordings of our ‘Humans of Medicine’ interviews.

For each episode, we interview a remarkable individual involved in the biomedical sphere who is doing remarkable or unconventional things with their degree.

Each interview is neatly packaged in a bite-seized podcast episode readily available on Spotify--perfect for those long commutes to and from placement.

WHAT WE ARE

READING RECENT READS + RECOMMENDATIONS

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

OSCAR WILDE

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not the sitter…The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul” The Picture of Dorian Gray details the intricacies of corruption and its interaction with the human soul. It encompasses the joy, pride, sorrow and shame that accompanies it all, alongside the persistent mourning for what could have been.

At times, I felt the compulsion to look away in horror, but was always drawn by the desire to continue to read more.

Although I am not usually one for classics, I confess that this book has stayed with me longer than I ever thought it would. I hope it does the same for you too!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Reviewed by Ellie B

KATABASIS

RF KUANG “Christ,” said Peter. “Hell is a campus.”

Katabasis, meaning to descend into the underworld, is a beautiful novel that intertwines the mythos of the Hellenic Underworld, Lord Yama’s bureaucratic trials of the Chinese afterlife, and Toricelli’s Trumpet with the lore of Dante and TS Eliot to ultimately come to the conclusion that hell is a mirror of grad school.

Kuang weaves together a dark academia fantasy of myriad mythologies and mathematical paradoxes to bring together an odyssey through academia, friendship and the confrontation of one’s own being.

True to form, each page of this book was an education in and of itself--I was constantly looking up definitions of words (like cthonic), legends and, oddly, mathematical principles. The prose was beautiful and it was hard to put down this book. I firmly believe it will one day be graced with ‘Classic’ status.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Reviewed by Angelica H

MULMIG 2026 LEADING THE CHANGE IN HEALTHCARE

Since 2023, the Monash University Lifestyle Medicine Interest Group (MULMIG) has quickly become a key player in promoting preventative health amongst students.

Our mission is to increase awareness surrounding lifestyle medicine, helping you, our future healthcare professionals, understand how healthy habits can prevent and treat (and in some cases even reverse) chronic conditions. We’re focused on empowering students to feel knowledgeable and comfortable in their ability to help their future patients make evidence-based lifestyle choices, whilst looking after their own well-being along the way.

Four years ago, we began as a small and relatively inexperienced committee, with lots of passion and absolutely zero funding. Over the years, we’ve gradually developed into a confident group of students committed to advancing the principles of lifestyle medicine across the Monash medical community and beyond. Today, we are proud to see other student groups and university initiatives looking to MULMIG as a collaborator and advocate for the integration of lifestyle medicine principles into medical education.

do we have in store for 2026 and beyond?

Looking ahead What Last year, MULMIG strengthened its name by partnering with MUMUS

for our paint & sip night, and community engagement through Park runs. This year we plan to continue our efforts and connect with other subcommittees to run events that reach a broader audience and help medical students learn about lifestyle medicine in a relaxed and enjoyable environment.

In 2027, we plan to take this a step further, and collaborate with other healthcare facilities to make MULMIG a committee that spans the entire Faculty of Medicine, Nursing and Health Sciences. After all, no matter our role, lifestyle medicine is central to clinical practice. While doctors play a key role in guiding diagnosis and treatment, they often have less direct patient contact than many other health professionals.

Nurses, physiotherapists, dietitians, and other allied health professionals are frequently the ones who spend longer with patients across all domains of healthcare, helping to reinforce lifestyle advice across multiple encounters and areas of medical management. This places them in a powerful position to translate the principles of lifestyle medicine into meaningful change and tangible health outcomes.

It is essential that the pillars of lifestyle medicine are understood by the entire multidisciplinary team. When all members of the healthcare workforce consistently promote and model these principles, patients are more likely to feel supported and adopt meaningful lifestyle changes which will benefit their long-term health.

Behind the Scenes The concepts of lifestyle medicine are not difficult to grasp. However, implementing these pillars into our daily life is a global struggle. This is why we have been preparing to work with the medical faculty to initiate curriculum change on topics of lifestyle medicine for medical students across all year levels.

If you’ve ever tried to meditate every morning, or go for a run every night, then you’ll know that making lifestyle change is much more difficult than watching the lecture about chronic disease prevention. Patients feel the same way when doctors give them oversimplified advice like ‘be more active’ or ‘lose weight’. It’s our responsibility to build the skills necessary to guide our patients to really embrace the benefits of lifestyle medicine.

MULMIG are working hard to submit our proposal to faculty shortly and help you get more out of your lifestyle medicine teaching. Watch this space!

The Next Generation

MULMIG is also involved in inspiring our next generation of students, through our collaboration with the Monash Scholars Program. Monash Scholars is a program run for high-achieving secondary school students to help them explore their career options, learn study skills and succeed in their ambitions. Every year, MULMIG runs a workshop with the students and teaches them about how lifestyle medicine can help them to become a better student and live healthier lives. Our next Monash Scholars event will be coming up soon on April 14th.

At MULMIG, we’re committed to creating a culture of preventative health among students and the wider community. Through our events, we hope to spark meaningful conversations and inspire future doctors to collectively reduce chronic disease rates across the country.

-Your 2026 MULMIG committee, co-chairs (Jade Reade and Maulik Singhal), academic officers (Abigail Gardiner and Angus Skeen) and the rest of the team!

Med Camp Med Camp 2026 2026 Tshirt Design Process!

Brainstorming...

Maybe we could do something animal related? Maybe Australia native or dangerous animals.

I reckon dangerous animals sounds good.

The designs on top of the base tshirt colour could look pretty sick

Final list 1.Crocodile 2.Panther 3.Orca 4.Shark 5.Snake 6.Blue Ring Octopus 7.Jellyfish 8.Scorpion 9.Wolf 10.Yellowjacket Wasp 11.Redback spider

Jae Yap - 2026 MUMUS Merchandise Officer

preliminary sketches

+ A LOT of pinterest

= official designs!!!

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