Metaphorizing My Pain
Metaphorizing My Pain Read More »
Metaphorizing My Pain Read More »
Tess Timmes ~
“Please walk slowly,” cautioned Sunita, my interpreter, as I crept down the stony switchback trail towards the rural Nepali village of Dhulikhel. Sunita, in her petite navy ballet flats, hopped down the rocks as easily as the speckled goats grazing nearby.
Emboldened by her speed, I stepped along eagerly, only to catch my size-ten neon running sneaker on a root and splat face-first into the dust. Looking up, I saw four women standing outside their clay-walled homes, their hands pressed to their mouths, their eyes sparkling with stifled laughter. Talk about making an entrance….
After finishing my third year of medical school, I was taking a year off to pursue my masters degree in public health. Through my research that year, I’d learned of an opportunity to spend a month in Dhulikhel, located in the Kathmandu Valley, south of the Himalayas, interviewing the region’s women about their use of primary-care and mental-health services. Passionate about women’s health, and eager to escape another Boston winter, I signed on.
Why Aren’t You Depressed? Read More »
Hillary Mullan
About the artist:
Hillary Mullan is a second-year medical student at the University of Massachusetts in Worcester. As a student and former research assistant, she often finds herself inspired by the beauty of human biology. Through hand cut paper images she hopes to share this appreciation with others.
About the artwork:
“I created this piece at the very beginning of our anatomy course. Working on the pair of lungs provided me with an opportunity to process the unique and challenging experiences of anatomy lab. I have always found creating art to be therapeutic and hope to keep this a part of my life during and after medical school.”
Visuals editor:
Sara Kohrt
As a Jewish American, I recently celebrated my faith’s new year. I followed tradition by going to the cemetery prior to the beginning of the holy days to pay my respects to my beloved paternal grandmother, mother and father. Standing in front of the Wall of Eternal Life, I read the prayer for the deceased–until a tsunami of pain inundated me.
Everlasting Sorrow Read More »
Andrea Eisenberg ~
Many years ago, on a busy day in my obstetrics-and-gynecology office, one of my partner’s patients came in for “bleeding, early pregnancy.” Since my partner wasn’t in that day, I saw the woman, whose name was Sarah. After we’d talked a bit, I examined her and did an ultrasound. As I’d expected, she was having a miscarriage. Feeling sorry that Sarah had to hear it from me, rather than from her own doctor, I broke the sad news.
We discussed the options: Did she want to have a D&C, or let nature take its course?
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I need some time to decide.” I agreed that this was understandable and left the room so that she could dress. Having notified my partner, I thought no more about it.
A month later, I received a letter from Sarah accusing me of callousness and insensitivity in our encounter.
Too Close for Comfort Read More »
Difficult Decisions Read More »
She wasn’t just sad. She was depressed. So, so depressed. None of the usual treatments I had to offer had worked. The drugs made her feel worse. She found the talking therapy boring. The psychiatrist wanted to give her more drugs.
The Red or the Pen? Read More »
Hmmm. Swim with dolphins? Eat a steaming bowl of spaghetti? Dance with the sun on my face? Yes. All of those, I think to myself. But, no. They’re not the options on offer, not any more. My interrogator’s nose is waiting. His grey eyes assess me from under folded lids.
Francie Camper ~
Parkway, three a.m. Ambient light.
Try to shake off the sleeping pill.
Open car window. Rock station 104.3
Watch the divider, the white line.
Count the other cars on the road,
make up stories to stay awake.
Don’t miss the exit for the Interstate.
Don’t miss the Willis Avenue Bridge.
Twenty-six minutes to a parking space.
Forget to read the parking sign.
Shoulder heavy bag: water, apple,
book, journal, healthcare proxy.
One desk and three doors into the
emergency room. Ask the first
person. Ask the second. The third.
Oh she’s in X-ray, it’ll be a while.