Ars Literarium Volume X

ARS LITERARIUM Volume X Journal of Art and Literature

The literary journal of Rutgers New Jersey Medical School and Rutgers Health

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Front Cover: Gardening Rohini Bahethi PGY-3 - Department of Otolaryngology, Head and Neck Surgery Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

ARS LITERARIUM VOLUME X Ars Literarium is published annually by The Healthcare Foundation of New Jersey Center for Humanism and Medicine at New Jersey Medical School.

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Ars Literarium Volume X

COUNCIL MEMBERS

Manasa Ayyala, MD Director of The Healthcare Foundation of New Jersey Center for

Humanism and Medicine, Rutgers New Jersey Medical School Tanya Norment Program Administrator of The Healthcare Foundation of New Jersey Center for Humanism and Medicine, Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

Faculty Advisors

Andrew Berman, MD Professor of Medicine, Rutgers New Jersey Medical School Manasa Ayyala, MD Associate Professor of Medicine Director of The Healthcare Foundation of New Jersey Center for Humanism and Medicine, Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

Editor-In-Chief

Sedra Alabed, MS-2

Associate Editor

Karen Ebenezer, MS-2

Art + Literary Editor Esha Shah, MS-2

Graphic Designers

Yara Abbo, MS-2 Mariam Trichas, MS-2

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Ars Literarium’s annual publication is possible due to the support of The Healthcare Foundation of New Jersey Center for Humanism and Medicine at Rutgers New Jersey Medical School.

We extend our heartfelt appreciation and gratitude to The Healthcare Foundation of New Jersey for its generous support.

Thank you to Tanya Norment, Dr. Ayyala, and Dr. Berman for their advice, mentorship, and guidance throughout the year.

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Ars Literarium Volume X

In loving memory of Dr. James Hill...

‘Dr. James Hill’ was among the first names that would greet the new students of NJMS. His was the first phone number we entered into our phones, the first office number we memorized, and the first name we said aloud in moments of crisis, on blue Mondays, and shelf-week Fridays when we just needed to hear a kind voice.

His name now features in the stories of all who had the pleasure of knowing him - fond memories of his remarkably quick wit, level-headed grace, and above all, extraordinary leadership as Associate Dean for Student Affairs at NJMS. Dr. Hill fiercely advocated for students, faculty, and staff, invited vulnerability with curiosity, and sprinkled extra joy on this otherwise unrelenting journey.

His absence is felt deeply throughout our campus, commensurate only with the years of encouragement and guidance he poured into his students and colleagues. Nevertheless, we know his legacy will live on in each of us. Thank you for everything, Dr. Hill.

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Ars Literarium Volume X

MISSION STATEMENT Ars Literarium seeks to express the medical narrative through the creative voices of the members of the Rutgers Health campuses.

The journal provides an outlet for members of the community who spend endless hours managing the stresses and responsibilities of patient care to find peace through creative expression. Transforming memories or emotions from an intense day spent with patients into words or visual art allows for a stronger, healthier connection to the self and a deeper appreciation of the patient perspective.

For information, inquiries, and submissions, please email us at: arslit@njms.rutgers.edu.

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DEAR READER...

Welcome to Volume X of Ars Literarium, an artistic mosaic of human experiences.

“Love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” Kahlil Gibran.

The tones of darkness dictated the silence that filled the conference room as each submission was reviewed. The themes of mortality and death cried aloud as we searched for hope and rebirth in every stroke and word. “Did we do something wrong?” was the thought that shattered the year-long desire for a volume that fosters healing. Walking down the hallway into a desperate beat of beeps and antiseptic laced air, it became clear that within the depths of darkness, hope hid. Our work as caregivers takes place in a delicate space between life and death, where we see humanity at its most vulnerable.

Without our prompting, nearly every piece submitted this year has centered around sensations of loss, mortality, and the large debt of sorrow provoked by those same sensations. In perusing the literary and artistic works of our colleagues and friends, we invite you to hold their grief, meet it with empathy, and to shake hands with it as a friend.

Medicine, for all its discipline and duty, its routine and rigor, is an endeavor of love. We understand why, in moments of death and in brushes with mortality, the families of patients often hold healthcare professionals responsible for their sadness and anger. It is the cost of the job. To stand between life and death is to be a receptacle for rage. But I will take on your fear, your sadness, your anger, our writers, artists, and poets seem to be saying. I will stand fast. It is the cost of love.

It is with great honor that we introduce you to the tenth edition of Ars Literarium. Each piece was woven with warmth to mellow a chest hollow with grief and catch the unsaid love in brimming eyes. As you navigate through the pages, we wish for the whispers of artistic compassion and tenderness to help you find solace in the diverse pieces reflecting universally relatable narratives. Art is the great medium through which life may be understood, and so as the memories of loss flood, please accept the sincere hand of solidarity from each artist and writer, not to erase the grief but rather to embrace it with love. Even in the shadow of mortality, acts of grace, connection, and resilience persist. We hope you, dear reader, feel the same deep, duty-bound love for life, and humanity in the pages to come.

Sincerely, The Editors of Ars Literarium 9

Ars Literarium Volume X

Table of Contents Cover Image by Rohini Bahethi

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The Lonliness of Chronic Pain by Emily Xie

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Suddenly Very by Joseph Santitoro

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Rooted by Ahmed Sabra

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The Way by Daniel Liggio 15 Branch Brook in Bloom by Lena Kheir

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A Song Without Words by Catherine Ye 17 Disconnect (Work-Life Balance) by Mateen Abbasi 18 When You Wish Upon a Zebra by Elan Baskir

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The First Teacher by Zahra Adahman 20 From Your Doctor, on the 35th World AIDS Day by Michelle DallaPiazza

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BECAUSE I SAID SO by Casey Hamlet (Content Warning: eating disorders)

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Heart Sounds Illustrated Using a Left Ventricular Loop by Justin Aoyama

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The View From the Window; What do our patients see by Yaqian Xu

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My Dearest Christina by Dino Santiague 26 Blossom, No Matter What by Ankita Punetha

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Untitled (Fredonia, Texas) by Yonatan Greenstein 28 Gray by Thomas Schwendhelm

The Night Shift by Nivetha Srinivasan

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Taste My Depth by Ermire Mitre Kokomani

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Gardening by Rohini Bahethi

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La luz sola and The Solitary Light by Anurag Modak

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Eternal Light by Anurag Modak

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To My Patient: Know that you are loved by Mary Salim

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Ars Literarium Volume X

The Loneliness of Chronic Pain Acrylic

Emily Xie

Class of 2027 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 12

Suddenly Very A patient wheeled into a hospital Reassured by friends and family Confident Unafraid Encounters a world full of conundrum and frenzy and hears talks of histories and diagnostics, of imaging and labs, of beta blockers and diuretics, of treatment plans and prognoses, of social support and hospice.

And in his observations of the happenings around him experiences a monitor ringing, and a brother chatting, and a fluorescent light shining, and a TV playing, and a friend laughing, and a medication dispensing, and a stethoscope listening, and doctors conversing, and a disinfectant smelling, and a syringe stabbing, and an IV flowing, and a fluid dripping, and a neighbor snoring, and a cough worsening, and an alarm beeping, and a roommate shouting, and a nurse running, and a gown tearing, and a mother crying, and a dad staring, and a defibrillator shocking, and an anesthesiologist intubating, and a blood transfusion circulating, and a ventilator breathing, and a machine dialyzing, and pressors maintaining, and a chaplain praying And is Suddenly very Afraid

Joseph Santitoro

Class of 2025 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 13

Ars Literarium Volume X

Rooted

Digital Painting

Ahmed Sabra

Class of 2025 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 14

The Way I had a dream I was a butterfly Who was dreaming That I was me When I woke up I didn’t know what to think Her ribs crackled Beneath my hands While she looked Up and away As the crucifix on my neck Made soft repeated clinks When her mother came And saw her girl The screams Pierced my heart Her father stood Just outside the room His soul Worlds apart Her eyes still open I closed my own Fighting for that dream Where she was a butterfly And all this nightmare Was something that had never been

Daniel Liggio

Class of 2025 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 15

Ars Literarium Volume X

Branch Brook in Bloom Oil Pastel

Lena Kheir, MD

PGY-1, Otolaryngology Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 16

A Song Without Words I stand there wordlessly in my papery yellow gown Stethoscope cold against my chest Breath muffled behind my mask Feeling I have intruded upon a private serenade, Silenced abruptly when I walked in.

When the endless alarms, chaos, voices follow me home So too does the image of her sitting quietly at his bedside.

I wonder if she hears her child’s voice in the coarse breaths of his trach.

Catches glimpses of his future in the fluttering of his eyelids.

Is the gurgling breath in his chest a babbling brook to her ears?

The swift beating of his heart the percussion?

The vitals monitor tones a strident soprano?

The rustle of his contracted limbs against the bedsheets like gentle brushes on a snare?

Is his every gasp a melodic reminder he is still here?

I imagine she recalls the memory of his embrace when she holds his cold hands That in this humming hospital bed, she instead sees the man he was before Perhaps she hears hope in the tune that plays so insistently in her ears I want to know the other half of this duet she has painstakingly composed.

Yet even when his mouth opens, I cannot catch the verse.

No matter how closely I listen, I do not know the words.

Try as I might, I hear instead the ballad of a mother’s grief for her child Her only son, who once sang the brightest song of life and promise And has now simply fallen mute.

Catherine Ye, MD

PGY-2, Internal Medicine Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 17

Ars Literarium Volume X

Disconnect (Work-Life Balance)

Photograph

Mateen Abbasi

Class of 2028 Ernest Mario School of Pharmacy 18

When You Wish Upon a Zebra The fresh, short whitecoat in tow, Neck saddled with a Littman, After the years of studying required to enter the horse stables, Finally able to hear hoofbeats.

But after horse after horse after horse, Endless rhythmical gallops Like a day at the Derby You wish upon a zebra...

Oh and when your wish comes true!

In some ways, just how you studied!

Other ways, their stripes are a new and unexpected pattern!

Zebras don’t always read textbooks after all.

You tell you’re the closest in your herd I SAW THIS ZEBRA AND IT WAS SO COOL As they swap their zebra encounter for yours.

Do you think we could write up this zebra?

Could be a good case report.

But behind the hoofbeats Between the stripes Lies a zebra Wishing to be horse Whose gallop helped you remember your normal S1/S2.

Elan Baskir, MD

PGY-4, Medicine/Pediatrics Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 19

Ars Literarium Volume X

The First Teacher Acrylic on Canvas

Zahra Adahman

Biomedical Science PhD candidate Rutgers School of Graduate Studies/Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 20

From Your Doctor, on the 35th World AIDS Day Part 1: Remembrance

Part 2: Commitment

I keep the card that you made me In the drawer of supplies and files Where I search for documents That I once stashed away in piles

Sometimes I wonder If I got it all wrong If I stumbled and I stuttered Just to keep moving on

I keep the snapshot of your MRI In the case report I remember most Its characteristic contrasts Showing how to interpret and diagnose

Often, I wonder If I can stay the course If I can give away this part of me And still ask more from the source

I keep the texture of your skin And the tracings of scars in my mind They weaved the story of your convalescence And memorialized how our narratives aligned

And then I see you, Your diagnoses, and histories The landscape of your illnesses The map of your trajectories

My fingers brush the cut-out paper With its words etched in scented pen Greens, blues, yellows, and reds Each marks the moment you traced them

And then I listen As you pull back a veil You tell me secrets You inhale, you exhale

I keep the card that you made me As a remembrance of - you Who taught me, and gifted me More than you ever knew

This is the commitment When you tell me what you’ve seen And we can marvel at survival In the quiet moments between

Michelle DallaPiazza, MD

Associate Professor of Medicine, Division of Infectious Disease Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 21

Ars Literarium Volume X

BECAUSE I SAID SO ON THE FIFTEENTH DAY THAT MARIETTA HAD NOT EATEN , the psychiatry team knew they could no longer take care of her. With each day, her blood pressure softened, and by the time the medicine team was consulted, her heart was laboring at 130 beats per minute. Six hours at a time each day, Marietta closed her eyes and prayed, summoning her remaining strength to hold her shaking arms open toward the sky.

Every morning and afternoon we visited her and every morning and afternoon she would not tell us who or what was keeping her from eating. We asked if it was God, if it was herself, if it was a voice in her head. Was she taking her Risperidone? Her answer, always: I understand I will die, I will not eat. I know it will be slow and painful, I will not. And praying resumed.

The Bible condemns gluttons. Children will be made to sit at the dinner table until they finish their vegetables. Since the beginning of time, force-feeding has disturbed something deeply innate in us. Feeding Marietta against her will was something no one wanted to think about for very long. When the decision was made to place a nasogastric tube, Marietta cried and gurgled and bucked. A hand pressed against her forehead as the tube snaked further. Her suppliant arms were now bound by wrist restraints, so she prayed out loud to Heaven.

For many situations in medicine, there is no guidebook on how to proceed. When we pledge we will do no harm, who decides what harm means? For now, as a student, it is not me.

For now, I learn and I watch, and think about her.

Casey Hamlet

Class of 2025 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 22

Heart Sounds Illustrated Using a Left Ventricular Loop Sketch

Justin Aoyama

Class of 2025 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 23

Ars Literarium Volume X

The View from the Window; Photograph

Yaqian Xu, MD, MPH

PGY-2, Neurology Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 24

What do our patients see

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Ars Literarium Volume X

My Dearest Christina I am ashamed I never had the words to carry a friend from her death to the stars correctly All the hours, days and months grew likely, likely to remind me of the things in her that I found so dear.

Trying not to think, wonder, imagine the world without her.

Shamefully, I have wondered about the months, years, and what seems like an eternity in which we didn’t keep in touch.

Carefully, I sat down star gazing, looking for a star that would represent her so gracefully.

I thought of what would have, could have, should have been said, before that last beat.

Nevertheless, I realize, sometimes the best thing that I can do is not to think, but have faith in God and his choices.

Dino Santiague, BS

Management Assistant, Office of Faculty Affairs Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 26

Blossom, No Matter What Oil Paint

Ankita Punetha, PhD

Research Associate II, Department of Microbiology, Biochemistry, and Molecular Genetics Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 27

Ars Literarium Volume X

Untitled. Fredonia, Texas Photograph

The total solar eclipse reminds me of the transient nature of life and the importance of seizing each moment—both in medicine and beyond.

Yonatan Greenstein, MD

Associate Professor of Medicine, Division of Pulmonary and Critical Care Medicine Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 28

Gray Within the realm where shadows coyly play, The radiology room in black and white, A symphony of images hold sway, A dance of contrasts, revealing light.

In pixels and in grayscale, answers found, A monochrome domain of discerning art, Where shadows whisper secrets all around, A canvas painted, pixel by pixel.

The radiance of health in stark relief, A silhouette against the backdrop gray, Each image tells a tale, a life’s motif, In shades of gray, the stories lay.

So, in the quiet room where readings bloom, Black and white reveals life’s intricate loom.

Thomas Schwendhelm, MD Radiology Resident Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

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Ars Literarium Volume X

The Night Shift Keys click-clacking away, Not knowing if it’s still night or day.

Collecting all my thoughts into my notes, including chief complaints in quotes.

Another consult at 4 in the morning, Hearing one more urgent phone ring.

Eliciting another patient’s history, Trying my best to solve a new clinical mystery.

Waiting on a chest CT read, Looking for any sort of diagnostic lead.

Hunger pangs and headaches hit, yet for 2 more hours I’ll have to sit.

Nibbling on my granola bar, I open up a patient’s MAR.

Nivetha Srinivasan, MD

PGY-1, Anesthesiology Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 30

Taste My Depth Here I am, doctor, a whole being like you plunged in a body like yours, of flesh, blood, and bones, dwelling in the dawn of Dharma. surrendered to your frame.

My thoughts, like yours, touch and taste my depth, they dress me with the extremes, wisdom, courage, and brilliance, to cope with pain, sadness, and craziness.

Sometimes, they bend me as a willow branch, or break me as a crystal glass, right there, in that operating room, where you take the hardest act of dance.

Other times, they unite you and me together, and turn us into an unshakable rock, no earthquake can shatter.

And yet, by the twilight, I am still fooled by the unknown, that lays ahead of me, questioning my being here, sinking in night’s darkness, just to reach for any invisible sparkles.

Like, how each of us shined uniquely, out of the maternal divine dome?

Why did all of us come here, some tiptoeing on the dessert’s burning sand, others digging the trenches deep, engraving their path on this Earth?

And yet, at the end, doctor, we are all held mysteriously, at an unknown place, just to meet the last resort of our breath, just to hug our sunset.

January 2024

Ermire Mitre Kokomani

NJMS Library Tech I Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 31

Ars Literarium Volume X

Gardening

Watercolor

Rohini Bahethi, MD

PGY-3, Department of Otolaryngology, Head and Neck Surgery Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 32

La luz sola La luz sola, Sobrevolando Andando despacio pero incesantemente por el cielo Hacía un destino desconocido, Brilla.

Un mar oscuro, Sin energía, Sin vivacidad, Una extensión calma de infinidad.

La iluminación astral Disminuye rápidamente.

The Solitary Light The solitary light, Hovering in place Moving slowly but steadily across the sky Towards an unknown destination, Shines.

A dark sea, Without energy, Without life, A calm infinite expanse.

The astral illumination Declines rapidly.

Anurag Modak, MD

Class of 2024 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 33

Ars Literarium Volume X

Eternal Light The microscope is held aloft in a sea of darkness, Illuminating the gyri and sulci of the exposed brain below.

Its harsh, sterile light creates a veritable barrier So hot, so intense, it threatens to explode forth at any moment.

The screens scattered across the room provide companionship to this lonely machine And I, residing amidst the sea of shadows, Bear witness to its solitude To the silence of the light.

I have seen vessels tied and aneurysms clipped, And an eon has gone by...

There’s an air of anticipation, An expectation of something more.

But, solace and quietude prevail The light remains resolute The microscope remains afloat in the same place For eternity and evermore...

Anurag Modak, MD

Class of 2024 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 34

To My Patient: Know that you are loved I think of you when I attend ACR How you lost your hair and had a rash so bizarre You itch and scratch and scratch and itch Whoever knew lupus could be such a bitch From fatigue to kidney issues, mouth sores, and joint pains You trusted us to treat you, to take the reins Some medications helped and others did the reverse At ACR is where I digest your case, fully immersed We’ll always strive to do our best for you As serving our patients is our life’s biggest virtue I promise, that as your doctor, you will be cared for, unjudged That as my patient, know that you are loved.

Mary Salim, MD

PGY-5, Rheumatology Fellow Rutgers New Jersey Medical School 35

Ars Literarium Volume X

“Love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. ” -Kahlil Gibran Writer, poet, and visual artist

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Dedicated to Dr. James Hill (1959-2025)