By Esther Park

I.

When I sat down at a new desk, in a new school, in a new country
I forgot my own name
Pencil boring into paper, I tried to remember
over the sound of my classmates scribbling away.
I looked out the window, anxious
At a bird in a tree. Then I realized
Birds don’t know their name
But that doesn’t stop them

II.

Musings of a geriatrician:
If you start with a glass half-full,
aging is about pouring that into a smaller glass.

III.

Do you know that I am watching?
When you sit there speechless
When the person who was an engineer
Can no longer count to 20.
Can you feel me hoping?
Together we stare at the paper
And I am willing you to think
of one more word that starts with H.
And I am willing you
to tell me what year it is — where are you now?
The bad news is shared
Your calmness makes me sadder
And the sight of your broken frame stays with me
Longer than you’ll know.

IV.

when I was in college I shadowed a surgeon
it was a lap chole
the most routine thing ever
but I was so excited I went home
and journaled about it
now cut this suture

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Esther Park is a fourth-year medical student planning to apply anesthesiology. In her free time she likes to watch rich mom TV shows and try out Trader Joe’s seasonal items. 

By Anup Kumar Trikannad 

The doctor says, “It’s myeloma.” Oh Oma, my doom’s diploma!
I came with back pain, now that’s my new aroma.
Lytic lesions, cryptic confusion,
Is it my spine’s grand disillusion?
Anemia knocks, my blood’s running thin,
“Let’s transfuse,” they say—well, where do we begin?

Creatinine rises—my kidneys are vexed,
Calcium soars—my bones feel hexed.
“Proteins are wonky,” the doc does insist,
Light or heavy, can’t we just coexist?
A 24-hour urine, oh what a delight,
Hours in the bathroom—it’s my new nightlife.

PET scans beckon, CT beams glow,
MRI spins tales of marrow below.
Plasma cells, once the soldiers of might,
Now traitors, waging a clandestine fight.
Oh chemo, my dear, you’re a hell of a fling,
VDT-PACE sounds like a sprint in the ring.

“Transplant’s next!” they cheer with zeal,
“Stem cells in a plant?” Now that’s surreal!
CAR-T sounds fun, like a circus act,
I hope it’s more science and less acrobatic fact.

“Bi-specifics,” I demand, “Be clear in your pitch!”
Doc replies, “Tec and Talq—isn’t that rich?”
They sound like new cars or maybe a drink,
But they’re my lifeline—or so doctors think.

Oh, myeloma, you’re a curious foe,
What’s your purpose? I really must know.
You twist my cells, but I’ll twist you too—
Mai Mai, this war’s not yours to construe!

So here’s my plan, let’s make it satiric:
If you’re here to stay, let’s make it historic.
I’ll dance through transfusions, laugh through the scans,
Because myeloma, you’ve got no chance in my plans!

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Anup Kumar Trikannad, M.D., is a practicing myeloma hospitalist with a strong interest in pursuing a fellowship in hematology and oncology. Outside of medicine, he enjoys playing pickleball and exploring the world through photography.