Pondering the Human Experience: A Quartet of Poems
To help a soul / To heal a wound / To hold a hand / To walk again
Clinical
Resident Physician Contributing Writer
Tufts University School of Medicine
I am an orthopaedic surgery resident at Tufts University School of Medicine. I have been writing poetry since middle school, and this outlet has helped me reflect and process life's challenges, including finding my way in medicine. I am excited to share my thoughts written from the past few years with the medical community through in-House. May they bring some new meaning for you.
A Story of Artistic Reclamation (2019)
Here I am, come and get me! A playful provocation we have all used with much more than literal meaning as a mantra. But going through the rigors, chills and metaphorical bacteremia of medical education, I lost some of the pieces that made me confident to be myself.
My Allegiance
Collide, Rip, Shred / Microthrombi ahead / Schistocytes I discover
Poodle Blue
Like most times on call, the day had been busy. / I’d been running in circles, my head in a tizzy.
Mastectomy Shadows
I used to joke that after having my twin girls, my breasts no longer belonged to me. / Forget about possession, let’s talk about existence.
Atrophied Dreams
I waited for nine months to meet you. / I know that one night I loved a woman and then you, a blackberry of cells, found your place in her fertile garden and you grew there
What My Parents Think I Do vs. What I Actually Do During Overnight Call
I recorded a time-lapse video of an entire night of in-house overnight call at the hospital. Mom & Dad — I love how you think of me, but this is what residents actually do.
Mismatch Repair: My Journey from Pediatrics to Pathology
On St. Patrick’s Day 2014, New York’s coldest in a decade, I was a grass snake banished from the fair isle of pediatrics. In the National Residency Matching Program, just half of one percent of approximately 2,500 pediatrics slots across 194 programs remained unmatched, something like four total positions nationwide.
Handshakes and Shaking Doubt: Reflecting on Being a Woman in Medicine
In the 1950s, my grandmother wanted to be a doctor. She asked her father for her dowry money, wanting to use it instead to get her medical degree to become the first female doctor in her hometown. She married another doctor and practiced from an office below her home, accepting vegetables and dry-cleaning services as pay.
On Growing
“Good morning, I’m Dr. Watt and I’m going to be taking care of you today.”
Dear Intern: You Are Not That Special
Dear intern: I see you. Yes — you over there. That unsuspecting look on your face tells me exactly what you must be thinking. You are no longer a medical student which means you are no longer invisible, or, at best, ancillary.
Battling Burnout and Our Quest for Perfection
Two months ago, I woke up one morning at 5:30 a.m., as usual. I played my gym motivation playlist in the shower, ate oatmeal for breakfast, and headed out the door, as usual. I swore at the car that swerved into the lane in front of me without signaling, as usual. An hour later, I pre-rounded on one of my favorite patients, a man with wide, childlike eyes who had a great deal of difficulty expressing his feelings.
Peer Reviewer Emeritus
Tulane University School of Medicine
Kshama Bhyravabhotla is a Med-Peds intern at Tulane University in New Orleans who is passionate about underserved patient care and teaching. When she's not at work, she can be found watching Atlanta sports, discovering good street art and live music, and alternating between eating her way through the city and running the calories off.