Resident Physician Contributing Writer
New York City
Michael Pappas chose to pursue medicine because he believes working as a physician can provide him a unique role in helping individuals address the physical and mental suffering they are experiencing secondary to the various structurally violent systems. He believes capitalism, along with other oppressive, destructive systems such as racism and imperialism are the true drivers of disease proliferation worldwide. Ultimately, he believes medicine, especially in the current profit driven western model, is incapable of addressing these causes of disease proliferation. He spends his time working with various organizations and community based movements to work toward a more just world -- a society that actually focuses on the health and well being of the many and not expanding the private capital of the wealthy and powerful.
Nurses in New York City are pushing back against hospital systems that put profits over patients and threaten their efforts to strike for safer staffing ratios. While nurses are fighting, physicians have thus far remained on the sidelines of this struggle.
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.
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.
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.
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.
My partner Evan’s third year of residency completed his trajectory toward what is commonly called “burnout.” Two out of the 10 residents in his class left the program. In an already understaffed department, the remaining residents picked up the slack, taking extra call and working longer days. The general misery index among his cohort skyrocketed.
On March 11, an invitation-only meeting will determine the future of the United States Medical Licensing Exam (USMLE) Step 1 exam. The results will profoundly affect how all future American doctors are taught.
The faint glow that is the light at the end of the tunnel hits my face as I realize that intern year is almost over. One would think that having been through the personal loss I have — losing two beloved older brothers at a young age — that intern year would be more than manageable. Yet this past year has been, for me, a chaotic roller coaster ride.
Originally, I wasn’t going to enter the fellowship match. I had started my psychiatry residency fully intending to do the four years, then maybe a fellowship. Then, in my second year while sharing dinner with friends who had just certified lists for the general residency match, my plans to go into child and adolescent psychiatry came up.
I met Julian six months ago. He was the first patient I watched go through a buprenorphine/naloxone induction. My preceptor carefully guided him through a series of deeply personal questions: How old were you when you first started using? What is your drug of choice? Have you ever injected? How much? Have you ever traded sex for drugs? When did you last use?
The first time I saw her on the ward, I was instantly curious. There was something so innocent about her; she looked younger than her age, like a little girl. She was barefoot and had uncut, unkempt hair, as if she had accidentally wandered in from a different time period.
“Code Blue, lobby bathroom,” the loudspeaker goes off. For a second we all look up from our workroom computer screens. A seasoned resident shrugs his shoulders and we share a knowing look.
Resident Physician Contributing Writer
Boston University School of Medicine
Divya is a second-year internal medicine resident at Boston Medical Center in Boston, MA. She received her BA in Medical Sciences with a minor in Journalism at Boston University and subsequently completed her MD at Boston University School of Medicine. She is passionate about health equity, working with underserved populations, and critical care medicine.
