By Olivia Brown

Living a pandemic. 
Loss. Jobs, people, freedoms.
Communication. Severed, transformed, renewed.
Prevention. Necessary, optional, undesired.
Remission. Breath, rest, normalcy?

No. Again- 

Repeat. Variant, strain, symptoms.
Virtual. Learning, medicine, meetings.
Emotions. Exhausted, anxious, angry.
Science. Contested, feared, politicized.

When will missing class be a choice again?
Now- we wait for the end. 
Or yet another beginning.

Olivia Paige Brown is a second-year medical student at UAMS who uses writing as an outlet to convey the ins and outs of a life in healthcare.

By Metu Osele

The home I left is a fresh tattoo: a throb at night, of longing. It is Sister dancing with miscalculated steps; Brother laughing the croaky cackle of boy becoming man; Friend teasing, “That is a darn ugly shoe.” Seated on C6, I look over the tarmac and stroke my heart-shaped tattoo. I am coming home.

Metu Osele is a graduate student in the UAMS Department of Biomedical Informatics.  She writes short stories on her blog – creativewritingbymetu.com – and ghostwrites non-fiction and fiction publications.  She wrote “Home” to express her feelings as an immigrant in the United States.

By Teresa Fletchinger

Just go in and out of the patient’s room
Don’t let anyone know you are nervous
Self-conscious smile and introduction
Fumble to remember the physical exam
Apologize for very cold hands
“Stop.” 
Taken aback 
“Cold hands or not. Please sit and hold my hand”
Comfortable silence and teary eyes
“I just need someone to care”

Teresa Fletchinger is a third-year medical student at UAMS and wrote this piece after a touching moment with a patient. It is meant to capture the nerve-wracking nature of learning to care for patients and the moments of human connection that make it worthwhile.

By Asher G. Parvu

I haven’t seen death. Formaldehyde nostalgia. Different specimens. 

Organisms are human. Cadaver not corpse. Patient and person. Reconcile. Grandmother? 

Bright lights. Scalpel. Tanline. Nausea.

Are you okay? Breath. Reflect. Discuss.

Which organ do I learn? All of them.

There’s only 8 weeks? Yes.

Is this possible? No, but do your best. 

Visceral Respect.

Welcome to medicine. 

Asher Parvu is a first-year medical student at UAMS and wrote this work to capture his positive reflections on anatomy.   

By Jake Erwin

I cannot transplant your heart.
I cannot cure your cancer.
I cannot stop death. 

But,

I can help you live,
I can welcome your child,
I can calm your fears,
I can be there when you breathe your last,

I will teach you,
I will encourage you,
I will comfort you,

I am Family Medicine.

Jake Erwin is a fourth-year medical student going into a Family Medicine residency and wrote this piece to express the essence of his chosen specialty.