Poetry

Adina’s motivation to study medicine grew as she continued to stand by her grandfather’s side as his dementia progressed. When her grandfather was diagnosed, she and her family struggled to grasp the reality that many neurodegenerative diseases have no cure. She was upset by the inevitable cognitive decline of a man who had prevailed through great hardships, such as surviving the Holocaust, now losing his strong personality, diminished to that of a child, to an unrelenting disease. Adina and her family continued to see how her grandfather’s love remained beyond all, but it has been an additional challenge for Adina as she entered the first year of her medical education to learn about the treatments that elongated her grandfather’s life, all while his dementia continues to progress. She explores the complex questions of what makes life meaningful, aging, and decline in her poem.

With a purposeful flick,

The fire begins to burn.

The tall, white candles standing before me,

Ignite with passion as the matches kiss the wick.

Their amber glow fills the home,

As the black sky creeps across the windowsill.

Glasses overflowing with wine as red as blood—

Bursts of laughter roar from the candlelight room—

Reaching all corners of the home save one.

Idle in his corner lies an aged man,

Eyes closed gently, white hair clinging flimsily on the leather chair.

As still as time.

An aroma of cinnamon overwhelms the room,

As my grandmother’s cooking lines the table,

The combination of scents creating a symphony of desire.

Our hazel eyes meet,

As I deliver the old man’s dinner,

Soft egg salad, mushed green beans,

Whatever he doesn’t refuse to eat.

“Will you dance with me?” He says.

Hand outstretched.

A few chosen words

From the mouth like a child.

An invitation.

I can only imagine his mind is back in his youth,

Far away from the empty grey walls of his bedridden state.

With a small nod, I push my stethoscope aside,

And sense a firm grasp around my hands.

I squint against the sun.

As the rows of street vendors come into view—

A myriad of colorful banners hang from the open-air market,

A guitar plays softly in the background.

We are twirling.

I dip far down,

My toe points up, almost touching the clouds.

Cradled by the man’s strong arms,

I am confident I will not fall.

As we lock hands one last time.

All that is left

Is the weak, brittle skin of a hollowed man.

The pool of wax continues to build,

As the candles finish their marathon of light.

His doctors call him healthy.

They leave out the most important part of his medical story.

His treatments exacerbate depression of the mind.

A physician’s years of medical education,

Hundreds of hours studying,

But little lessons on courage—

The courage to not fix someone who’s irreparably broken.

_____________________________________________

ADINA GREENE is a 1^st year medical student at the University of Arizona College of Medicine-Phoenix. She attended UC Berkeley for her undergrad education where she cultivated her love for Classical Rome and Greek literature, poetry, and human behavior/ethics in addition to her academic passions of physiology and cognitive science. She is currently pursuing the Health Humanities Certification of Distinction at UA-COMP.

Both of my paternal grandparents developed early onset Alzheimer’s disease, which they lived with until they passed away. I’m sure anyone who has been touched by this disease can relate to this haiku. Even while they are physically present, we miss the person who is taken from us.

some plaques and tangles

melted the person we love

into memories

_____________________________________

BRADY ANDERSON is a first year medical student at the University of Arizona College of Medicine-Phoenix. He is a husband, father, and probably should have been studying instead of writing poems.

I am daily called to give advice, but so often do not get to see what the result of my counsel yielded. I rotate off service or don’t get the follow-up text from a friend who had questions about how to care for a family member. In this instance my dear friend, Dr. Cheryl O’Malley, gave me a beautiful gift. She told me how a patient’s family was grateful for something I said. I encouraged them to keep their father awake during the day which gave them five hours with him; five hours they talked, laughed and cried. The final five hours that he would speak with them. In my gratefulness to her for telling me, I was inspired to write this. Time is precious and often we are blind to that fact.

I am in the business of time management.

I see what your body is telling me despite what your words say.

Your body was an hourglass and I was watching the sand fall.

The sparkle in your eyes and humor in your voice deceived your family.

I begged your sons to not let you sleep the day away.

When faced with the inevitable, we often look away from the clock.

But time is borrowed.

But time is of the essence.

But time and tide wait for no man.

They were holding you to the present, pushing against the black wall of delirium.

Forgiveness and memories were slow dancing at the edges of your final hours.

Anxious to be center stage.

Your sons kept you up all day.

You talked for five hours.

Delirium waited in the dark space between sleep and wake, pain and comfort.

Delirium was jealous for your dignity and your sanity.

Delirium searched for you eager to consume your last hours.

They held you to the present; they pushed against the black wall of delirium.

Forgiveness and memories joyfully danced on the center stage of your final hours.

You died the next day.

I stole a single minute to counsel, not knowing

that you would give them fi(nal)ve hours.

That you would say all that was left to say in

300 minutes,

18,000 seconds,

5 hours.

____________________________________________

RUTH FRANKS SNEDECOR, MD is an inpatient teaching attending at Banner-University Medical Center Phoenix (B-UMCP). She is passionate about patient safety (PS) and quality improvement (QI) and works to find new and creative ways to integrate these concepts into the residents’ education as an Associate Program Director for the University of Arizona College of Medicine-Phoenix (UofAzCOM-P) Internal Medicine Residency and a Clinical Assistant Professor. She obtained her MD from the University of Arizona, College of Medicine, Tucson. She is board certified in Internal Medicine and is most proud of the residents and students she teaches to grow their skills as kind, thoughtful, and brilliant physicians caring for hospitalized patients. Nationally recognized by the Alliance of Academic Internal Medicine and Society of Hospital Medicine (SHM) for her work in these areas; she is also on faculty for the Quality and Safety Educators Academy through SHM. A Phoenix Magazine “Toc Doc” this busy wife and mom of 3 (ages 14, 11, and 9 yo) you will often find her and her family on a mountain exploring the beauty of Arizona in their free time

I recently met a patient in the hospital setting who was blind. I had no idea. When I took my time to gather her history and get to know her more, she told me I must have been new. When I asked how she could tell, she told me it because I was still too kind. The encounter has stuck with me; how we really don’t know the intricacies of our patients’ lives, or what they deal with on a day to day, especially in a hospital setting.

Looking into your eyes staring blankly back,

at me.

I wonder of your preoccupation,

The worries you’re trying to see.

It’s nothing.

You’re complete blind,

And I failed to perceive.

Hold your hand in mine,

Let’s calm the winds tossing your tremulous mind

At sea.

You say your heart,

skips a beat.

Your pulse stutters in between –

Expected tempos,

DDx is A-fib with no memo,

Appearing without history.

I’m worried about your heart,

Not the poor rhythm it conducts,

But its devastation from your blindness.

Heartbreak from how it stole your independence.

I feel all your despair, but now,

I must leave you there,

Until the next sound appears.

_____________________________________________

NATALIE NABATY is a medical student from the class of 2025 at UACOMP with so many passions she struggles to juggle them all. Between playing guitar, dancing traditional Assyrian line dances, learning about global health, and serving the community, writing is a skill she is happy to refine while in medical school. When she’s not busy with her hobbies, work, and school, she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, exploring the world, and contemplating her existence.

This piece is inspired by my background in sociology. Equity is not providing each person with the same, but is recognizing the inequalities, socially-constructed, that contribute to health inequalities. At its core, social inequalities exist because not all lives are valued equally. It is a testament to the work that is being done and still needs to be done.

Health equity is not

the same healthcare for all.

Because some

are more vulnerable.

Health equity is not

the same

Access

Treatments

Insurance

Healthcare.

It is not

having the same

options.

Equity is

recognizing

and reconciling

with the differences

we have created.

Equity is not

the same for all.

Because,

all lives are not valued

the same for all.

_______________________________________

ALICE TREUTH is a clinical research coordinator with the University of Arizona College of Medicine –Phoenix with hopes of going to medical school.

This piece reveals the war of sexuality and spirituality. In this poem, the difficulty of coming to terms with one’s own sexuality (...and coming out of the closet) while also striving to feel spiritually fulfilled is made visible. Separating the world or societal stigmas and relying on yourself and the spirit you possess and cultivate is of the utmost importance in succeeding with this great task. This is based off of the authors true experience.

Words said without thinking- without considering who’s listening

Spoken without even blinking as they preach a sinful christening

An obtuse lack of understanding and an armed militia of defenses.

Grown so used to their own tight shoes, they don't know how to try on someone else's.

Judgment without compassion, imperfect justice without juvenile mercy,

Somehow, they say I am wrong for my passion and my innocent love is ‘earthly’.

In a place where love one another is repeated until it loses meaning,

I leave draped in my Sunday dress and comments that were ignorantly demeaning.

Somedays are harder than others- in this place where ‘all are welcome,’ I am stung

and I have lost count of the many bleeding cuts I have from biting my tongue.

My ears burn and my heart pounds… How blind does a ‘believer’ have to be?

My throat aches and my stomach flips- “they're talking about ME.”

He gave sight unto the blind, so maybe he could help them see

That on ancestry.com, there can be two adjacent circles on a family tree

So forgive me if at times I am distant or withdrawn,

it is hard to feel at home when I’m accused of living in Babylon.

Zion means “the pure of heart and intent”... that we as saints should possess such,

Well, I fulfill those qualifications... even though I happen to prefer a woman’s touch

I find peace in Christ my beloved savior- and I feel so loved when I pray.

But I can't ignore the undignified rage I feel when I hear the things people say.

When the world is too much to handle and the big buildings we pray in feel loud,

There is one who I find solace in- with a christ like love, she is endowed.

Her voice is like the softest hymn and her eyes give off the warmest light,

The closest thing to heaven on earth is being all wrapped up in her so tight.

This person, this angel, this soulmate of mine who brings me closer to God

Reminds me everyday through her love that we belong on this gospel sod.

She and i- we are here for the right reasons; to grow and to learn and to become

To love and to cherish and to have and to hold in this intimately holy sanctum.

“Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

We know that you love us and our love- that in it, there's no shame.

Doors we can't walk through hand in hand are doors I don't want to enter.

I know Zion is for the pure in heart, and for once, I am not a pretender.

I know the answers I have received- this is my knowledge, my testimony

That I can still hold the iron rod while betrothed in sapphic matrimony

To the woman I love so dearly... and I know God brought her to me.

Together: As we hold hands in sincere prayers- there's no place I’d rather be.

_________________________________________

BAILEY ADAMS is a 20 year old woman who loves to be outdoors and exercise every muscle- creative and physical. Adams is an ambitious student who is graduating from her four-year university a year early with a BS in psychology. She is pursuing a masters degree and a PhD to become a psychologist. As a lesbian herself, Bailey wants to offer her services in particular to the LGBTQIA+ community in validation and positivity regarding their sexuality and place in their enviroments. She values her religious beliefs as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and wants to help people feel resolved and whole in every aspect.

Our life is influenced by so many different factors that truly shape who we are. We change over time due to different circumstances, different experiences, different necessities, and different desires. Reassessing who we are is important at each and every juncture of our lives in order to grow and develop.

We are who we are

From our genetics to our experiences

We are who we are

From our upbringing to our schooling

We are who we are

From our thoughts to our studies

We are who we are

From our beliefs to our fears

We are who we are

From our appearance to our core

We are who we are

From our communities to our relationships

We are who we are

From our desires to our dreams

We are who we are

________________________________________

DR. LISA R. SHAH-PATEL is the Director of Career and Professional Advising at the University of Arizona College of Medicine-Phoenix. She completed a seven-year combined Biomedical Sciences/Doctor of Medicine program and received her MD degree at the UCLA School of Medicine. She complete her radiology residency at St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital in New York City, and her fellowship in Breast Imaging at the Mayo Clinic in Arizona. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with her family, going to the beach, skiing, and travelling.

My last few years before coming to Phoenix, I volunteered at the Utah State Hospital, a psychiatric inpatient facility. My time there exposed me to the realities that face those suffering from mental illness, and the challenges of the professionals treating them. I interacted with many patients, some of which were new and adjusting to their new environment. Others had been there many years and considered the hospital their home. I’ll never forget the first time I saw the private living quarters. While the hospital was a very colorful and inviting place, the living quarters were simply comprised of a table, chair, and four white walls.

The white walls ask no questions

they have no expectations

they do not question the way you think

or the things you hear

or the way you feel

they do not tell you that something is wrong with you

they do not see you as a problem

or a burden

they do not judge

or at least they keep it to themselves

The white walls are there to hold you

but can they contain you?

they help you heal

at least we hope they do

they are the backdrop

when you cry

when you laugh

when you scream

they emphasize your shadow

and make the pills look that much brighter

The white walls are predictable

they do not move

they do not change

they remind you where to be

and when to be there

and how long you will be gone

they will be there when you get back

so will the bed and table

that feel more and more like home

for better or worse

The white walls are numbing

their blankness pierces and encompasses

and helps you not to feel

the fear

confusion

guilt

and pain

they quiet your mind and keep you still

it is better that way

or so we tell ourselves

______________________________________

BRADY ANDERSON is a first year medical student at the University of Arizona College of Medicine-Phoenix. He is a husband, father, and probably should have been studying instead of writing poems.

In Response to the Call for Submissions theme on “Resolution,” I paused and reflected on the things, the events and lives that were affected globally and narrowed it down to the core of my own experience. I thought to form an acronym to convey my thoughts that we can proceed with God’s grace to act in a resolute way to preserve our wellness.

Reflecting on God’s blessings and grace

Enables us to recover balance.

Smiling often is fuel to uplift the spirit,

Opening a prayer as well, for goodness of fit.

Lofting our goals facilitates hope and love.

Unifying our intentions to move and explore,

Tools and new skills, we learn to use to cope.

Innovating we do, to be inspired to inspire.

Offering support for others, as we discern,

Navigating our uncertainties with faith.

Awareness will abase fear to secure health.

Connect and consider one’s roles,

To tread to safety as we abide by the rules,

directing us to preserve our wellness.

_______________________________________

DR. JOAN FRANCES C. CHUA is a Board-Certified Internist, currently a Part-Time Faculty at the UA COM- Phoenix, Doctoring Program as a Clinical Skills Evaluator and holds a Clinical Assistant Professor title in Internal Medicine. She completed her Internal Medicine Residency Program at St. Francis Medical Center in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her Rotating Internship was completed at Santo Tomas University Hospital in Manila, Philippines. She earned her degree in Doctor of Medicine and Surgery at the University of Santo Tomas in Manila, Philippines. She completed her undergraduate degree in Bachelor of Science, Major in Biology, Accelerated 3-year Program at the University of Santo Tomas as well.