Test Anxiety

At times, I may feel hot, other times I may be cold.

Perhaps I will be hesitant, and surely I will be too bold

My mind may be filled with clutter, and my heart all-a-flutter

I may feel thirsty, and have to pee

I may be hungry for all kinds of things

Yet my mind will get through the day, dragging my body with it all the way

My body serves me faithfully, I acknowledge gratefully

When at last the exam and I meet

I want to feel fully present

I want my chakras to be perfectly aligned

I want to get the crick out of my spine

I want to empty doubts out of my mind

And fill my eyes with only you

As we dance I will try not to misstep

I want to remain steadily energized, aware of every breath

Fully focused and feeling fine

With you, I want to have enough time

After our time together, when I emerge anew into the fresh air, I want to think of you and smile

I realize that my chakras, like my spine, are always slightly out of line

I know that my rebellious mind refuses to ever stop itself from running wild

Have I ever danced without fumbling around?

Even with these imperfections, I still marvel at these reflections:

Although the ideal may never meet the real, I still think of you, and smile

Death Certificate

Another day, another death by COVID.

My COVID patient who died today was relatively healthy and young.

While filling out his death certificate, I paused over the ’cause of death’ section:

 

My patient had multi-organ failure with a subsequent cardiac arrhythmia incompatible with life and viral pneumonia causing respiratory failure, however the failure that lead up to his COVID infection was systemic at a societal level.

 

My patient was a prisoner, infected by COVID-19 because he was denied the ability to socially distance, robbed of the right the protect himself.

 

I didn’t know him, but as I studied his body during his final hours I imagined what his life had been like, and wanted to include on his death certificate:

 

Cause of death:

Complications resulting from loss of human rights due to imprisonment

Secondary to the prison-industrial complex

Secondary to class warfare

Secondary to poverty

Secondary to racism

 

I didn’t know him, but I shared pieces of his struggle:

Adverse childhood experiences, trauma on trauma on trauma

 

His premature death is another stone in my pocket

My path is liberation

Wherever his soul is now, I hope he feels liberated too

Liberated from the brown skin which lead to his incarceration which inevitably did him in.

Room at the Table

To learn medicine, we spend years

Carefully cramming knowledge between our ears

Medicine is a hoarder’s paradise:

Constantly changing like the ocean, ever-expanding like the universe

In this shifting, growing, mass of information,

We hold dear each grain of sand and each countless star

Keeping them for future use

Welcoming new knowledge as it surfaces

There is always room for more at our table

Hero’s Journey

On this long journey

between cadaver dissections and treating infections

between hand disinfections and anesthetic injections

may we pause for reflection, reconnect with our intention

may we cultivate connection, and to our loved ones, display affection

to our own needs, may we pay attention

may we vote in elections

and to injustice, voice objection

may we have predilection for self-correction,

not be afraid to change direction

may we not beat ourselves up for inevitable rejection

may we forgive ourselves our own imperfection

medicine is a practice, and we will never be perfect

but it is enough for us to be on this hero’s journey

Victory is every step

Alchemy

I spend my evenings dissecting out the lead bullets which you pummel into my chest throughout the day

I gingerly remove the palpable parts of your reckless barrage

Do you intend to hurt me so deeply that I must perform surgery nightly just to keep my sanity?

If I ever had any sanity to lose, that is…

Wisps of breath curl coolly around my open wounds, trying to soothe the painful sting of your attack

I am humbled by how long it takes me to heal from injuries that you were so quick to inflict

Don’t tell me you Kant follow the Golden Rule

That is the universal elixir we are all hoping for

Now I know where the true treasure is

It has been mine all along, my heart of gold

I choose to share it with the world

What will you do with your golden treasure?

Please don’t keep it buried all your life

It is already within you, yours to share whenever you wish

If only I could get this message to you somehow

I’ve sent messages in bottles before

But bottles can lead to ripples

And I’m trying to calm my water

Splash

I’m learning to dodge the lead bullets of your matrix

And melt them into gold

Treating others how you want to be treated

Is a rule that never grows old