Mehta 2024 - Poetry

Roses

By Claire Gist Bradberry

Ending my second year of pupillary medicine
I stood face to face with the first licensing exam
And its power over my fate

My school’s poor attempt to combat burnout
A required wellness lecture
Demanding a precious two hours I could not spare

“Students, take time to stop and smell the roses.”
Translated: try to forget your misery
Surrounded by unfinished tasks and rising pressure to succeed
Metaphors would not suffice

So I took a literal approach
And planted a whole damn garden
An escape from misery

I did some research
Because, you know, evidence based practice is best
Then I walked into the hospital of horticulture
Searching for the department I needed to revive my tired bed

My south facing oasis with light brazen to end breaths
Could not care for all
But those she could would come alive with soft hues and scents delicate and sultry
Enough to forget endless tunnels of white hospital walls

Ms. Winchester of Cathedral
Cotton ball blooms with tiny thorns
Seemingly safe until I tried to connect: then
Twenty tiny needles of screaming nociception
With aroma of an established monarch

Mr. Graham Thomas
A bold, jaundiced, climbing gentleman
Of course he would need a crutch to stand
Smelling of sweet tea and long forgotten lazy Saturday mornings
Not blooming until Magic May breathed her southern elixir
Equal parts heat and humidity with a hint of freedom

Princess Alex of Kent
Vibrant and gaudy
Beaming pink excellence at anyone who looked her way
Breathing caudal, cranial, proximal, distal
She begged for room to stand in her glory
To accept the light that ended most

These roses barely need a thing from me
Just a deep water in mid-July drought
Infrequent food scattered at their bases
Bottom dollar dead end chops

So maybe I should stop and smell the damn roses
If only to rest for a while

Claire Gist Bradberry is a medical student at the UAMS Northwest Campus.

One Second

By Luke Childress

A PowerPoint slide over sugar metabolism. 

      Devilled eggs at the shop downtown.

          My lovely wife smiles mischievously at me. 

                Bike tires rolling over gravel.

                      Snapping Legos to one another.

                          Ruined homes in the October sun.

                      Milk diffusing into orange Thai tea.


One. Second. From. Every. Day.

                  Lost. In. Time. Forever.

                               Struggle. Against. Entropy.

Luke Childress is a doctoral student and graduate assistant in the UAMS College of Medicine.

Born Again Again Again

By Mallory Onarecker

The first time I went in spitting,
feral with indignation at the hidden price tag.
The pound of flesh required, the known life swallowed whole.
Enraged at those that went in tight-lipped,
inert like the piles of laundry they were destined to dunk.
Sneering and suspicious of those that went in with veneers grinning,
vindicated when they came up sputtering, hair and make-up mussed.

Second time I went through laughing,
hysterical with delirium at the inside joke.
Two pounds lighter but death twice cheated.
Giddy to be sopping wet and still breathing.

Third I came up sobbing,
Dumbfounded with sight.
Those three pounds, investments returning 7, 8, 6 fold.
These waters blushing to wine, a miracle at (tiny) hand.
This ain’t no drowning –
It’s a baptism.

Mallory Onarecker is an APRN in Surgery at UAMS.

Whispers of Neurons: A Neurology Resident’s Journey

By Abhilash Thatikala

In the realm of neurons firing, life’s a constant race,
A neurology resident’s world, an unrelenting pace.
With each dawn’s early light, a new day begins,
In the labyrinth of synapses, where discovery always wins.

In scrubs of dedication, I step into the fray,
To decode the mind’s mysteries, come what may.
A schedule filled with patients, their stories to untwine,
In the busy life I lead, in the realm of the mind.

The ER’s a battlefield, where crises unite,
In the chaos of trauma, we strive for the light.
A stroke’s swift intervention, a seizure’s reprieve,
In this whirlwind of life, we battle and believe.

Behind computer screens, I scrutinize tests,
Searching for answers, to put minds at rest.
From EEGs to MRIs, the images unfurl,
Revealing the secrets of this cognitive world.

Yet in the midst of chaos, a bond’s sweet refrain,
With patients and families, through joy and through pain.
Their trust, a privilege, as I guide their way,
Through the labyrinth of neurons, come what may.

But life’s not all work, there’s laughter and tears,
In the camaraderie of colleagues, conquering fears.
Late-night rounds, sharing stories, and dreams,
In this busy existence, we’re a vibrant team.

My restless nights spent studying, books at my side,
Seeking knowledge and wisdom, in neurology’s tide.
For in this field, the learning never does cease,
A lifelong journey, in pursuit of inner peace.

So as a neurology resident, my days may be long,
But the beauty of the brain keeps me strong.
In this busy life, I lead, with the dawn of every day,
In the world of neurons, I find my purpose and my way.

Abhilash Thatikala is a resident (PGY-3, Neurology) at UAMS.