Selfish
I have a child, two months old / Who needs me, more than you need me. / I hear you crying, but it is her crying.
I have a child, two months old / Who needs me, more than you need me. / I hear you crying, but it is her crying.
I spent years of my life preparing for you / before I even knew the ways you would make my soul come alive, / How much you would spark my curiosity and give me purpose
University Hospital was erected some years after Man’s Greatest Hospital — with the vision of its leadership — to satisfy the needs of many. Namely, the financial supporters, trustees and patients of course. The hospital’s motto was to “Make hospitals great again.”
Older people aren’t sweet, precious or cute, / They’re wisest among us, without dispute. / A habit of ours is to condescend / When talking to people near life’s end.
I am a 25-year-old resident physician of anesthesiology /
My sister and I are bonded by genetics, anatomy and biology /
I am a senior in high school at age 18. / My sister and I are bonded by love and everything in between.
A collection of poems entitled “Meditations on Medicine.”
When the COVID-19 alarms were raised, I got ready for battle against the virus the world was fighting, only to later feel cut off from “the cause” as my efforts to volunteer outside of my daily work were denied time and again. Some might call it luck, but for me, it felt isolating.
A collection of poems entitled “Meditations on Family.”
A collection of poems entitled “Meditations on God.”
Listen to the track “PGY3” by Dr. Roy Souaid and his band “John Lebanon.” The song started in New Orleans during the American College of Physicians National Conference in May 2018 and has been a yearlong project inspired by street buskers, hospital sounds and jazz. It captures the medical resident’s work flow and is set in the medical intensive care unit at the Miriam Hospital in Providence, Rhode Island.
At first, my heart pauses: frozen from shock. / But, within a few seconds, I start to take stock.
I recall my father sitting on a small stool in the kitchen / dialing friends and family, one by one, rippling outward