A pandemic brings out the truth of people.
At first, toilet paper was hoarded and nobody cared about each other,
But once times got tough, our humanity truly showed itself.
Donations poured in and volunteers were in excess.
Support small business was the community motto.
When others are in need, we become our best selves.​

Hunter Augustus Ramey is a medical student at UAMS.

I sit by my window peering down and smiling upon the empty streets.

Springtime blooms are dancing, uncorrupted by the usual artificial noise, pollution, and commuters. 

How can I lounge about and admire the scenery from my high castle knowing others gasp and gargle in isolation?

Still, the neighborhood is beautiful this time of year.

Tyler Christian Thompson is a medical student at UAMS.

Panic breaks loose. Fear sets in. What am I to do???

Frustration swells. Patience is lost with all. This is just one big overreaction!!!

Flip a coin and see which team you will join.

OR

Take a step back, 6 feet or so, and meditate. Join hearts, not hands, with your community. We are one.

Erica Olson is a medical student at UAMS.

I do not want to forget this moment,    
the taste of close uncertainty,    
the clarity of mortality
the weeping and weariness of the world.        

The sacrifice of heroes,    
the generosity of communities,    
the depth of hope,
and of a calling realized,    
the joy in helping and of healing.        

The way the birds sing each morning.

Kaitlynn Butler is a medical student at UAMS.

I couldn’t hug Madison Sunday. My beautiful, beloved granddaughter turned 12 that day. We’re very close; I’m both grandfather and father figure to her. She’s incredibly bright and wickedly funny. We celebrated together, six feet apart. She cried at the end, I turned away so she wouldn’t see my tears. I couldn’t hug Madison Sunday.

Kevin W. Ryan J.D., M.A., is the Associate Dean for Student and Alumni Affairs and an associate professor of Health Policy and Management in the Fay W. Boozman College of Public Health at UAMS.

Fever! In the days of this COVID-19  pandemic, fever meant quarantine—or fourteen days of being away from any patient, colleague, friend or even spouse and being away from the hospital.   The painful, lonely first few days gave way to walks, meditations, and detecting ducks, daffodils, daisies and dogwoods.  Life was different but also beautiful.

Paulette Mehta, M.D., is a professor in the Department of Internal Medicine in the College of Medicine at UAMS.

Ring. Ring. Video connects. 

“I see you! Can you hear me?!”

Mr. Smith just purchased his first smart phone last month. He has access to his grandkids, beekeeping Youtube channel, and now his doctor from the comfort of his front porch. 

“Incredible!”  He laughs, “I remember when doctors made a different kind of house call.” 

Victoria Flynn, M.D., is an assistant professor of Psychiatry at UAMS.

The patient has OCD, main obsession: contamination. 

Our appointment is now online, like all others. 

I worry about her obsessions getting out of hand, her meds already maximized. 

“How are you?”

“I’m alright. This is how I’ve been all my life. People are catching up to me.”

No medication adjustments today, just take as prescribed. 

Erick Messias, M.D., M.P.H., Ph.D., is a professor of psychiatry and the Associate Dean for Faculty Affairs in the College of Medicine at UAMS.

The pastor told our congregation we will try virtual Mass. He reassured us we’re in this together with the guidance of the Lord. He turned to the deacon, who was a physician, for further reassurance. 

My family obliged the next Sunday. Despite no physical communion, technology brought us to church. The virus cannot impede worship. 

Eric Moorehead is an Administrator with the Institutional Review Board at UAMS.

I. Two hands, extended upwards towards the heavens.

How could this be?

II. Two hands, palms up.

One judging the weight of reality. This is serious, and none of us is immune.

The other full of hope. We shall survive, as we are able.

III. Two hands, together.

Namaste. I honor you.

My patient. My friend.

My prayer.

Bill Ventres, M.D., M.A., is an assistant professor in the Department of Family and Preventive Medicine in the College of Medicine at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences.