The Sound of Healing

Jonathon Liu, MS3, Class of 2025

Throughout my clerkships, I have encountered many patients, each teaching me valuable lessons about disease processes, pharmacology, and the underlying science of medicine. However, beyond the technical knowledge, it is the patient interactions that I cherish deeply. My experiences have also underscored the importance of bedside manners and the establishment of a strong rapport with patients. The art of delivering compassionate, patient-centered care is fundamental, enabling physicians to truly connect with their patients, understand their experiences, and facilitate more effective healing. Humanism is, indeed, a quintessential element in medicine. During my Internal Medicine Clerkship, I had an encounter that brought this abstract lesson to life—fundamentally shaping my approach to medicine.

In the ICU, I met a patient grappling with unstable atrial fibrillation and a host of cardiovascular complications as a direct result of poorly managed type 2 diabetes mellitus. Yet, his physical ailments barely scratched the surface of his suffering. Initially, I entered his room to gather his medical history using the comprehensive approach taught at my home institution—covering chief complaints, medical history, family history, social history, and more while simultaneously being expected to efficiently collect and report the necessary information to our medical team. However, our conversations soon unveiled a narrative steeped in frustration, anxiety, and a profound sense of abandonment. He shared his long struggle with type 2 diabetes mellitus and the daunting side effects of metformin that had overwhelmed him—nausea, vomiting, bloating, and a repulsive metallic taste. When he sought help, his concerns were dismissed, leading him to resort to unproven supplements. His condition deteriorated, necessitating insulin, which he avoided due to fear of experiencing similar or worse side effects.

Recognizing the depth of his disillusionment, I made a commitment as his student doctor to work to unpack his fears and concerns. I promised my patient that I would advocate for him to my medical team. Day by day, beside his bed, our conversations blossomed beyond healthcare, touching upon his life, fears, hopes, and dreams. I learned of his service as a war veteran, his passion for exploring local restaurants, his and his wife’s adventurous spirits, and his profound kindness and love for his family. Our conversations became something we both looked forward to daily. These moments of shared humanity reminded me of the significant impact empathy and active listening can have on kindling a relationship with my patient.

Together, we navigated his health fears, exploring alternative treatments while his concerns and preferences were at the forefront of all decision-making processes. This patient-centric approach reignited his motivation to manage his diabetes, marking a pivotal shift in his treatment journey. By forming a strong bond through daily interactions, I became a more effective advocate for him, amplifying his voice, supporting him through his improvements, managing side effects, and navigating setbacks.

This experience reinforced a fundamental truth: healing transcends the physical aspects. Medicine demands humanity, which can only be achieved through nurturing strong, trusting relationships with patients. When we take the time to genuinely connect with our patients, listening intently and empathizing deeply, we can significantly transform the quality of their healthcare. At the heart of medicine lies this simple, profound principle: to care for another is to see them, hear them, and stand with them in their moments of vulnerability. This encounter has indelibly shaped my understanding of what it means to heal, reminding me that the core of humanism in healthcare is the profound connection between a doctor and their patient.

Spes aeternum oritur

Spes aeternum oritur

Brian London, M1, Class of 2027

 

Growing up next to the sea, almost everyone had heard the phrase, “red sky at night – sailor’s delight; red sky in the morning, sailors take warning”. In Spes Aeternum Oritur, Hope Springs Eternal, a crimson-red sky reveals itself as the news of death, famine, war, and conquest in my homelands spreads across the seas. The waves cresting over as they come to the observer through a grey haze show the fear that comes from the unknowns of human strife. Looking above the horizon, the ghost of a rose – a universal image of love and peace – drips with golden ichor, a gift of the gods promising materialization of the hope, ever present, that humankind will stop destroying each other, that we will again re-value the oath to which all physicians bear credence: beneficence, justice, and autonomy. Until all of Earth’s peoples are free, none of us can be free. Digital oil-on-canvas; submitted as complete as a sketch piece for a physical production CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

Geometric Cow

Geometric Cow

Regan Konz, M1, Class of 2027

 

This is one of my first ceramics projects and was done using a slab technique to make the form and masking to paint the surface. Spending time with ceramics was an outlet for me to de-stress during a busy senior semester and medical school interview season and I, of course, had to create a piece involving a cow which is my favorite animal. This guy truly brings me joy and is probably my favorite thing I have made despite his imperfections from me being completely new to the hobby.

A 24 y/o F

A 24 y/o F

Angela Gutierrez, M2, Class of 2026

I envision this as the captivating genesis of any HPI, or like the opening scene of a

standard case presentation, or when preparing ourselves for the narrative of a vignette leading to

a thought-provoking question. Fictional patients based on real people. However, unlike these

fictional patients, this is real. This is mine.

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I Don’t Have Time

I Don’t Have Time

Simon Longhi, M3, Class of 2025

I don’t have time.

I happened upon my two life roads
that diverged in a wood
so much later than I’d prefer.
It’s an echoey, reverberating–…
… –Err, berating, thing
that whirrs
like a sputtering motor
within my mind. Mulling
over so much, missed, in life.
I still want to reach, proverbial peace.
Keep, my sense of wonder.
Find, finally, someone to love.
But the wind that blows
down that sort of road,
could I even let,
that,
carry me?
Is that allowed?
Because to career, careen, down
–Medicine–, that path,
my calling, as a healer, now–
shouldn’t that demand in me, most everything?

I don’t have time.

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The Slide

Liam Lynch, MD Class of 2026

“I woke up after a nap one day with quite a bit of inspiration, so immediately I went to write this short story.”

“Welcome to Summer Camp,” the sign read. The excitement was palpable; the lot of us were all clamored together in that first courtyard. No one here had been to camp before, despite everyone being different ages. From the younger middle-schoolers, to the older of us high-schoolers, everyone was witness to the halcyon summer about to unfold. I knew going in that it was a goal of the summer camp to grow the older campers into leaders so that they’d come back the next year as counselors, and quite frankly, I was all-too-naïve and looking forward to the recognition and responsibility that would soon come with it. As we waited for the counselors to join us, I took in the moment.

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Good Morning Mom

Good Morning Mom

Tiffany Killblane, M3, Class of 2023

Lokus Corgus Maximus (that was his full AKC name) or Loki for short was my first dog that I got as an adult–I literally picked his floofy corgi butt up on my way from graduating with my bachelors degree and leaving Colorado to start my masters degree in Kansas. He was 7 weeks old when we headed to Wichita together. He was my best friend and rock through my twenties: bad decisions and bad relationships, moving into apartments with nothing but a bedroom set, me learning how to become a college instructor, him learning how to become a service dog and even fathering a few sets of puppies (which terrified him in much the same way having human babies for the first time terrify human adults).

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Quilling

Quilling

Edith Sigler, M1, Class of 2025

Quilling is a form of paper art that traditionally uses only paper strips and glue.  I learned about it when I was very young at a festival in Ohio, but I never thought of it as something I could do.  Several years ago, I was given a quilling kit for Christmas.  It wasn’t until a very long Christmas break due to the pandemic last year that I started to learn how to do quilling.  I loved it, and after learning some basic designs from a book, I started to try to make 3D objects based on pictures or real objects.  The first thing I made without a pattern was a miniature mountain dulcimer for my grandma’s birthday.  As a musician, I was careful to try to get the correct relative spacing of the frets.  Now I love to make various quilling projects when I have time and give them to friends and family, especially those who I didn’t see much in the last year.  

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