At the start of medical school, many students participate in the “White Coat Ceremony.” Before peers, faculty, and family, they recite a modern version of the Hippocratic Oath (or other affirmations like the Geneva Declaration) and don the short white jacket they’ll wear during the four years of school. Although they begin seeing patients only in the third year, part of the ceremony’s intention is to convey that care for patients begins, in a sense, on this first day. When they earn their M.D., they are entitled to the knee-length version.
The rapid introduction of revolutionary technologies like minimally invasive robotic-assisted surgeries will exponentially increase complexity in medicine, law, education and ethics. Roboethics deals with the code of conduct that robotic engineers must implement in the artificial intelligence of a robot. Through this kind of ethics, roboticists must guarantee that autonomous systems will exhibit ethically acceptable behavior in situations in which robots interact with patients.
At the turn of every corner / I will be found out / You will see / The fraud in me
Happy New Year from all of us at in-House! We are proud to announce the in-House Top 10 of 2021, our 10 most-read and shared articles of 2021. Thank you for your readership over the past year and for your ongoing support of our publication, the premier online peer-reviewed publication for residents and fellows. #1 Do Individuals from Low Income Families Belong in Medicine? (Yes!) By Amy Zhang, MD, MBA at the University of Washington School of Medicine Do Individuals …
It feels odd to have family members in the hospital regularly again. My patient’s wife approaches cautiously; for a second I pretend not to see her. She looks like she wants to talk and I’m afraid she wants good news I can’t give, promises I can’t make, and time I don’t feel like I have. She wants time to tell me her loved one’s stories.
Her grip on my hand is tight. Almost as tight as the elastic on the oxygen mask stretched across her face, digging furrows into her thin, sallow skin.
I am a first-generation Chinese American. And, amidst the tapestry of threads that form my identity (mother, wife, daughter, woman, doctor), it is the piece I have often prized the least.
Graduation gown: shiny, matching cap / She looks up / With aspirations
“Every one of these patients should terrify you,” the fellow said. I thought he was just being dramatic.
Thinking back to January 2020, I recalled the whispers throughout the hospital of the first confirmed case of COVID-19 in the United States, mere minutes from my home institution. Aside from my perspective as a pediatrician, I was also forced to confront my own anxieties regarding exposure to this virus as an adult living with repaired congenital heart disease.
On the morning of January 6, I awoke ecstatic to the news of Reverend Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff’s predicted wins in the Georgia run-off elections. To be frank, I have become hesitant to hope while inured by the near-daily attacks on civil rights by the Trump administration via executive orders and federal policies. Over the past four years, I witnessed with pride — but also fear — as community activists tirelessly organized to combat racist policies.
In my home city of Washington, D.C., citizens have taken the changes brought on by COVID-19 very seriously; social distancing, masking and frequent hand hygiene are now routine. These days, I am startled when I see the bottom half of someone’s face out in public. Our homes have become our sanctuaries. In the hospital, however, much of our work continues unabated. Orders are written, notes are signed, lab work is drawn, imaging is performed. Housestaff are on the front lines with nurses, respiratory therapists and patient care technicians taking care of the sickest patients day-in, day-out.