Lori Salter

Part I: Student, Interrupted

During my psychiatry rotation as a third-year medical student, I observed patients pacing the halls in socks, their shoelaces sealed in plastic bags (to prevent possible self-harm) along with the rest of their belongings. No phones. No laptops. Just the steady rhythm of footsteps looping around the nurses’ station.

A few months later, I found myself walking that same loop—not as a student but as a patient. My shoelaces were stored away, and I was the one being rounded on.