72 hour hold, you never expected Stripped and searched, No shoelaces allowed
All of your clothing is replaced by a gown. Suicidal thoughts, one too many drinks
A number of social factors lie underneath. Involuntarily here, you plead it’s a mistake No threat to yourself or others, You promise you’ll get help, do whatever it takes.
A long list of questions, I apologize I must ask. Your childhood, drug use, and psychiatric past. You anxiously squirm in your seat, I promise I’m not here to judge. My white coat a reminder, that your secrets I will keep.
Saut D’Eau by Arrianna Thompson
Doctor, I’m afraid
I fear
Losing my Mind
Losing myself
And who I am
I thought I could rely
On my own Mind
For it has carried me this far
But suddenly
Over night
What a terrifying feeling
To not be able to remember
To not know what I’m doing
To stare blankly
Trying to remember
Where I keep my toothbrush
My bedroom
Once so familiar
But then
Over night
3 hours
It took me
To get ready
I stood in my bathroom
Staring at the sink
What I am doing here?
Oh
I need my glasses
Ok
Now what?
What am I doing?
As I tried to remember
How to do
What I’ve done
Every morning for years
I fear
Losing my Memory
There’s nothing
I let slip from me
My Mind may fail me
but at least
I can trust
My writing
Right?
There’s something about writing
There is Thought to every word
Every syllable
And annunciation
In what I say
In how I am
But sometimes
Even my words
Fail me
Sometimes
Words cannot capture the right feeling
The words aren’t quite right
Not in English, nor Spanish
Not even French
So I must find a new way
I must
An unfamiliar tongue
A new language
Music
A new form of expression
I listen
Trying to find the right sound
Listening for someone
To capture this moment
Express my feels
The emotions
In music
The sounds
The tension
So I must write everything
I must
I must capture
Everything
I write Every Thought
Every idea
Every feeling
The release
Hundreds
No, definitely thousands
Of songs I’ve listened to
Some over and over again
Sometimes just a few bars
A few lyrics
Savoring the sounds
Breaking down the beats
Re-sounding the resonance
The rhythm
by Bernadette Miramontes
Lyrics
Are words
But words are not lyrics
The rise and the fall
The build-up the call
And response
Voices answer
One another
But not always giving
The answer
I seek
Sometimes
Someone Musics it just right
They express the feeling
The sensation
That words cannot describe
Music that makes you feel
Is what I seek
But sometimes
No one Musics what I need
No one else has expressed it in a song
Or at least
Not one that I’ve found
About losing
My consciousness
Losing my Memory
Maybe my Mind
Not in this way
There’s no song
Not expressed
Not yet
So I learn
I learn to create
So that I can express
So that I can capture
The fleeting moment
The fearful emotions
And constant changes
In my head
Describe it in ways that my words
Not English, nor Spanish
Can speak
So
I create
I create my own music
My own expression
My own way
I carve out a new road
Not well traveled
Uncharted
Unwritten
Unexpressed
Not yet known to humanity
I must release and give
I must give
Everything I can
Before my Mind is gone
For one day, Whether now or in 80 years
My Mind will seize
To be
As it is
Seize
Seize
Don’t seize
Don’t fail me now
Not yet
Let me give
Let me do
And create And think
And Be
Before it’s gone
Let me live And experience
And take everything in
Let me feel and sense
And cry and laugh
Let me be before it’s gone
I must write everything
I must document everything before it’s gone
Thoughts are fleeting
Ever changing
But what if I can share those Thoughts
What if
Those Thoughts can be passed
From Mind to Mind
Ever living
Ever lasting
What if I can share my passions
Share my love for humanity
Before I seize
To exist
Before my Mind changes
To a new pattern of Thought
I fear
The change
But change is inevitable
Change is constant
I know how to ride the wave
I have dealt with change
I’ve learned from the unexpected
From which we regrow stronger
Let the change come
Let it happen
It will happen
Whether I Will it or not
So I Will ride it
I Will experience it
Document it
And express it
Let it be
As I be
As I become
The new me
I have so much life to live
I have so much Thought to think
And so many gifts to give
I have so many songs to create And share with my family and friends
And maybe the world
I cannot control what’s around me what’s happening I cannot control the circumstances and that’s ok that is how it always was and always will be
I can control how I choose to react what I choose to take and make of it
How I want it to affect me what I want to carry with me what I choose to see in this beautiful mess we call life
We have a choice
To appreciate the beauty
We can choose
To be inspired
By the epic-ness
I will choose to be awestruck
By the vast complexity
Appreciate
The intricacies
The details
The changes
The fleeting moments that are mine
And mine alone
Beautiful and terrifying things
That only I get to see and feel
Only I get to experience
Mine
And mine alone
To share
With the world
…
I’m ready.
Am I not constantly a new me?
Am I not ever changing
With every experience
And person and place
And action and moment
And lesson and hardship
And song and day?
I am ever changing
Doctor, I’m ready
by Nicole Lin
photo
Skulls by Erin Wolfe
BODY
Day in and day out, I leave before the sun and return after it has set. One day, my mother told me, “Izzy, you look pale.” It was hard to believe my brown skin could ever be described as such. It was a long week, I was adjusting to a new schedule and although I couldn’t see it, it was obviously taking a toll on my body. The following weekend, I sat outside in mid-day for the first time in a long time. When I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t realize how big an effect mere sunlight would have on my mood, yet after those few hours, I realized how alive I felt once again. Grounded signifies just this—the wholeness that sits at the intersection of humanhood and nature. Time and time again we learn
that the environment where our patients live, work, and play largely impacts their health and well-being, but I seemed to have forgotten this for myself. The sun, the trees, the flowers—all of these nature offers to us every day. Whether we accept that offer, or make time for it, is up to us.
These days, it feels as if I’m expected to be more machine than living thing. Working, learning, studying every minute, instead of simply…being.
So, I drew this to remind myself to remain grounded, to continue to water my creativity, to weed out the voices that tell me I can’t, and to sit outside and let the sun hit my skin every once in a while.
Illustrations and Prose by Israel Taylor
En Silencio by Yvette Rodriguez, graphite and white charcoal
labor
do you know how much work my mother did for me?
the seas she’s crossed the roads she’s walked the friends she’s lost the family she’s left the home she’s built the languages she’s learned the tears she’s shed the hate she’s endured that life she remembers this life she creates
do you know how long her labor was before she delivered me?
delivery
and just like that — dreams first imagined; growing pains suffered; shoes one-size-up broken in; pictures taken, retaken, and retaken; sidewalks walked, roads driven; jokes, lame but laughed at; love first acknowledged; heartbreak once affirmed; careers changed and resumes reshaped; homes moved out of and in to; paychecks earned, taxes filed; outings with new friends, reunions with old friends; holidays observed, families cherished; adventures planned, flights delayed; failures challenged, ambitions achieved; losses grieved; memories remembered and forgotten; birthday last celebrated — a whole lifetime weighs 8.8 pounds in your two hands
— poems by Catherine Zaw
Hands on my
(somethingyoumaynevercatchamedicalstudentsaying)
Spaghetti Wrist by Manan Patel, embriodery on aida cloth
Hands by Erin Wolfe, charcoal on paper
Palm of my Hand by John Tsatalis, 7 mm flair needle felt-tipped pen on magazine page
Humanity: A Song Like Th e Ocean
We seek to create something without ends just as war thinks it’s the finale they seek an encore becomes the next piece
Each drop, a life flowing streaming and growing The rhythm of the waves full of love it raves each droplet’s motion resonating our devotion with deep, bellowing overtone
A different zone in life’s music that moves you taking hold of your breath a sound wave becomes a wave of emotion
A wave of the ocean It takes hold of you you flow let it move you
— Bernadette Miramontes
Underwater Pleural Effusion by Erin Wolfe, watercolor
Blue Barrel by Erin Wolfe, oil on canvas (2” x 3”)
SOUL
cordelia 2:2 by Mika Mintz
Tea Time
by Molly McKinney
Once a week I trap the tea.
Doused repeatedly, it bounces off of the surface, Until soaking up enough to sink.
Finally cool, I sip on my drink, Embracing the friction. Hidden in the city these children are plain tea. Without a sugar coating, My tongue is rarely in fashion.
In one of the rusting cribs that line the wall cleaned with alcohol — He bangs his head against the metal railing.
Others sit on the floor. Their bottoms are soaked in urine And the fronts of their shirts are encrusted with vomit.
The strong stench overtakes— The hollow, white paint plastered rooms Which seem sterile, Forged with intensity, Like white light, which reflects all colors, Are a prism that separates each child into their visible part of the spectrum. The severity of the damage is not their fault.
About one in a thousand.
Inside the small head is an arrested brain. The blank stare registers. Closer eyes, gives a somber and confused look — Furnished with a thin upper lip. Above, a new smooth space, Between the lip and nose, All contortions clash.
Volunteers’ break, biscuit and tea time at four p.m. If only fixing them were as simple as the electric water kettle. Fill it up. Press the button. Listen for the click to know it is scalding.
The Eye by Harrison Dermer, ink and watercolor
cordelia 1:1 by Mika Mintz
A Tree in Winter
by Jennifer Ferrante
in former glory I shrink like winter’s tree a shadow of his summer self
trying to compose against my past I, a critic, loom over my words my shadow persists in the light
I said I would never tell about trees or seasons it’s all been done and undone but now I must reconsider
a ubiquitous picture of loneliness and melancholy a tree without leaves a shell in the snow
no snowflake is to blame when my leaves fall, when my branches bow together, each is innocent
freely they land, without guilt nobody can stop an avalanche does that one flake really matter? one of them takes my last leaf
I try and retreat but my trunk still stands the wind beats against me but for my roots I remain
I recall summer how I flourished and so I don’t wither I write
A Splash
of Color
Sunset by Harrison Dermer, ink and watercolor
Dalí by Jacob Rosewater, oil on canvas
Staff & Contributors
Thank you so much for sharing your inspirations and creativity with us!
Adriana Grossman
Class of 2020 MD
Alec Savilla
Class of 2022 MD
Enjoys contemporary art and all genres of music.
Arrianna Thompson
Class of 2020 MD
Caitlin Coviello
Class of 2020 MD/MBA
Casey McGillicuddy
Class of 2020 MD/MPH
Works hard. Sleeps hard. Is still tired.
Catherine Zaw
Class of 2020 MD/MPH
5 percent medical student; 95 percent mango.
Class of 2019 MD/MPH
Bernadette Miramontes
Class of 2021 MD/MPH
Christine Wilkins Dallas Sheinberg
Class of 2020 MD/MSc
Erin Wolfe
Class of 2022 MD
Erin’s interest in exploring the innate connection between healing and creativity began while working for a variety of nonprofit health, education and creative arts organizations. She became a freelance medical illustrator in 2014. Her work has been published in journals, book chapters and educational videos.
Harrison Dermer
Class of 2020 MD
Passionate about medicine, music, and art.
Harry Levine
Class of 2021 MD/MPH
When not behind the books, Harry can be found outside biking, gardening or drawing.
Israel Taylor
Class of 2020 MD/MPH
Jacob Rosewater
Class of 2022 MD
While considering music to be his favorite art for most of his life, Jake has delved into other forms of expression and has found comfort particularly in painting. Except actually culinary arts are the best because food.
Jennifer Ferrante
Class of 2021 MD
Passionate about medicine, poetry, and turtles.
John Tsatalis
Class of 2019 MD/MPH
Humans have a fundamental drive to create. To ignore the creative impulse is to deny a key element of self-expression. John‘s interest is to marry this self-expression to medicine and his many other interests.
Manan Patel
Class of 2021 MD
Mika Mintz
Class of 2022 MD
Mika’s aim is to capture the organic coalescence of what was once one — human and nature. Today, we find ourselves in a manufactured and often contrived world, thwarting not only our ability, but our will to be one with nature. Her photographs strive to extract the animals that we are from this digital realm, and bring us home.
Misha Armstrong
Class of 2019 MD/MPH
Native Floridian. Future surgeon. A strong believer in humanism, social justice, and the power of great conversations with the right people.
Molly McKinney
Class of 2020 MD/MPH
Lives for animals, the outdoors, BBQ and those with a sense of humor and an open mind.
Nicole Lin
Class of 2020 MD/MPH tribe 54, sweat lodge 12
Noreen Mohsin
Class of 2022 MD
In between finishing college and starting medical school, Noreen had the opportunity to indulge her creative side by learning how to swing dance and create an iPhone app. She also taught herself how to play the piano and paint, and is thrilled to have the opportunity to share the latter with her classmates!
Sandy Jiang
Class of 2019 MD/MPH
Travelor, plushie maker, professional artist, fam med doc.
Vic Rea-Wilson
Class of 2021 MD/MPH
Vic enjoys writing when not studying. Zhe spent zher college years mainly with the humanities and social science at Bowdoin College in Maine. At present, Vic has yet to meet a cat zhe didn’t like.
Yvette Rodriguez
Class of 2021 MD
Find Yvette in the first floor of club lib smiling and engulfing coffee.
