I Think He is Ready
Mrs. Red Jacket sat at the bedside in her isolation gown which covered her red jacket. She had left her walker outside her husband’s room. Mrs. Red Jacket held his hand and gazed out the window while he was sleeping.
Internal Medicine
Resident Physician Contributing Writer
Saint Louis University Hospital
Gebran was born and raised in Beirut, Lebanon. He comes from a family of five children, including four sisters. After his volunteering experience at the Children Cancer Center of Lebanon, Gebran decided to pursue pre-medical studies at American University of Beirut. He also attended medical school there. Following that, he pursued postdoctoral research in transplant Nephrology at Johns Hopkins. He completed his residency in Internal Medicine at Saint Louis University hospital. For the love of the Midwest, he plans to move to Indiana University to work in academic hospital medicine. Basketball and scuba diving are some of Gebran's passions. In his free time, he enjoys watching the NBA and buying all the gear for the Cleveland Cavaliers.
Morning Coffee (2017)
I often arrive before sunrise and leave long after sunset, enduring unpredictable and challenging schedules while juggling multiple competing responsibilities.
Top 5 Reasons You Might Want to Work Locum Tenens After Residency
Every job is different, but my experiences so far have drawn a very stark contrast to life as a resident. Now imagine, if you can: you stroll into work at whatever time you want. You round on your patients, write notes and leave. The rest of the day you give verbal orders over the phone while you hang out at the beach.
Uncle and Doctor: Terms of Endearment or Old-Fashioned Barriers?
On my first day of intern year, my attending corrected me in the hallway after I introduced myself to a patient by my first name. Following this, I sheepishly adopted a habit of saying “I’m Dr. Last Name” when sticking out my hand to greet a patient. In clinic, the nurses call me “Dr. Last Name,” even when saying a casual hello. When you refer to yourself as a doctor enough times, you start to believe it.
One Code Blue
We coded the woman for forty minutes. She was forty-two, and had two kids, and was perfectly fine yesterday. Now she was gone, or going, her family in the lobby, and no one with any answers.
Please Stop Saying Thank You
You are so soft / in voice and touch, / gliding through / the mines that are set in
Flying
I have always wanted to fly / but they wouldn’t let me / until I signed a contract / built on blood and tears
Croquet in the Tall Grass
The grass grows tall outside my uncle’s home — he only cuts it when we play croquet. He blazes a crisscrossing trail through the sea of weeds to form a maze-like playing field. We push the white wickets into the earth, grab the mallets, and drop the balls to the ground.
Siloed Departments, Yet Grain From the Same Field
Early in intern year, I reached out to residents in other departments who were part of my patients’ care in the hospital. In an effort to redirect my thought patterns, I asked them how and what drives their interaction styles and their medical decisions.
GI Janes: Women in Medicine
We offer unique perspectives from three women at different levels of their gastroenterology careers.
Blood is Thicker Than Water, But What if the Water is Duke Blue?
On Match Day, you are assigned to a new family for the next three to seven years. This will be the city where you might buy your first home, the city where you may meet the people who will speak at your wedding. An algorithm shuffles you into your assigned place in a new family tree.
What Brings You in Today?
Good afternoon, ma’am. Wow, what a contagious smile you have. I hear that you are here because of a stuffy nose? They said that you tried Claritin and that did not help. You feel congested, and it’s hard to blow anything out? And no fevers, no cough, no difficulty breathing or any wheezing?
Resident Physician Columnist
University of Texas Health Science Center at Tyler
Srijna is an internal medicine resident physician at UT Health Northeast.
consci/o- [in medical terminology: a connection deep to a state of understanding]
All physicians are taught to communicate with a fundamental language of healing and justice. This column is a collection of reflections on how I learned this fundamental language and an homage to the teachers who taught me.