White Coat Reflections - Class of 2023

White Coat Reflections
Class of 2023
by students,

for students

Perspective
Chaoyang Wang, MS1
Featured on the cover



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Contents

Wander and Wonder, Donna L. Parker .......................................................................................4
The Forest, Andrea White.............................................................................................................5
My Students, Bruce Jarrell .........................................................................................................7
Eye on the Money, Allen ............................................................................................................ 8
Doodles, Isha Darbari ............................................................................................................... 9
Fantasy of a White Coat, Allen ................................................................................................ 10
The Dali Brain, David Gens .....................................................................................................11
hands, phoenix underwood ...................................................................................................... 12
Beauty in the End, Aaron D'Amore ......................................................................................... 13
Ship of Theseus, John Clifton .................................................................................................. 14
Portraits of the Zygomaticus Major m., Elizabeth Olson ........................................................ 15
Cardiac Notes, Pranaya Terse ................................................................................................. 19
What's In a Name, David Gens ................................................................................................ 22
Ab Imo Pectore (From the Bottom of my Heart), Irina Kolesnik ........................................... 23

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First Ten Weeks, Christine Yuan ............................................................................................... 24
Lost and Found, Anonymous ..................................................................................................... 25
The Storm, Natalia Sampaio Moura ......................................................................................... 26
Never-Ending, Kimia Abtahi .................................................................................................... 27
Journal Entry: Expectations vs. Reality, Anonymous ................................................................ 28
From the Perspective of an Introvert, Ayushi Aggarwal ............................................................ 29
Untitled, Jocelyn Wu ................................................................................................................. 30
My Worst Enemy, Jocelyn Wu .................................................................................................. 31
Journal Entry: Sept 7, 2019, Isha Darbari ................................................................................ 32
Perspective, Chaoyang Wang ................................................................................................... 32
Reflections of Dr. Puche's Heart, Adam Puche ......................................................................... 34

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Wander and Wonder
Donna L. Parker, MD
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The Forest
Andrea White, MS1

We wander into the forest in groups of five.
Technically, we’re not completely lost. We have maps, made by the greatest mapmaker the forest has ever known.
We have guides: experienced explorers that can identify all the trees and twists and turns and creatures we might
encounter. Much of the time the way they know the forest seems like black magic to us, as though they’re pull-
ing the stem of a sugar maple leaf — or a lateral cutaneous nerve of the thigh — out from a secret compartment
they had hiding all along.
The one thing our group of five has in common is that we’ve never been here before. We’ve heard about the for-
est; we’ve actually been hoping to arrive at it for a long time. Our ultimate goal is to learn to care for it well, as our
mentors do every day. Now, though we’re in it. And it is complicated. Some of us know a few plant names, some
have been down a few trails before, and others know a bit about how the forest works — photosynthesis and
such. But this — this dark, complicated, overwhelming beast with 400 parts on a checklist — this is uncharted
land.
We study the maps each day, and come back each morning to understand another small part of the land. We feel
inadequate, and lost, and a little hopeful that we’ll come to understand this place even a bit like the guides do.
Then we feel inadequate again, and our forest rangers remind us that we’ll make it through to the other side. We
take a test to see how well we know the trees and rocks and animals and trails; we all do our best and we all still
miss things. We revel in our newfound knowledge, and then start all over again in a new area we know nothing
about. Some days we’re exhausted, some days we’re fascinated, some days we’re nervous, and some days we’re not
sure how we feel. But we keep showing up, a little lost and not alone in our wandering.
We’ve formed habits over the days and weeks we’ve spent here: places to look when we’re lost in the dark and
don’t know what to do, our favorite ways to walk in, the people we look to and smile at when we’ve found what
we’re looking for. Some of our habits are good: asking the guides for help, knowing the limits of our own minds
and bodies, celebrating with each other, sitting down to focus when we know it’s time. Some are less good, and
we usually know what those ones are for ourselves.
___________
(cont'd on pg. 6)

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(Con'td from pg. 5)
For the past two months our forests have been the bumps, bruises, crevices, and tubes of the human body, a
forest donated for our learning as a debt we cannot repay. Our next forest will be another class, and eventually
our forests will be hospitals or outpatient clinics or the community in West Baltimore or beyond. Those ones
we’ll hopefully get to spend our whole careers exploring and mastering. When we feel lost, or even want to make
sure that the cystic duct is in fact the cystic duct, we’ll look to our maps and our guides and our peers. It is a
habit we’ve already formed and one we’d do well to not forget; we don’t know everything, and we’ll never know
everything. But even when we feel overwhelmed by the unknown of the forest, we can reach out for help and
we’ll find it.
One day we’ll have seen so many Norway spruces and common chipmunks and granite rockfaces — or cases of
diabetes, respiratory infections, and lower back pain — that we’ll be the guides for those things in our chosen
forest. On rare days we’ll turn a corner to see a flower we’d never actually gotten to see before. We’ll flip through
the mapbook to see if it’s the right one, and we’ll turn to our new group of five to tell them it’s really there. We’ll
simultaneously feel the discomfort of not knowing everything and the excitement of being the one to discover
something. We’ll remember that we came to our forest to take care of it, and hopefully we’ll treat it with the care
that we learned from the guides that showed us how to from the beginning. And we’ll keep showing up.
We come in to medical school as wanderers and wonderers and we come in with each other. With any luck, we’ll
leave the same way.

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My Students
Bruce Jarrell, Faculty
My students start as little
sprouts and we help them to
grow into beautiful flowers.

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Doodles
Isha Darbari, MS1

Eye On the Money
Allen, MS1

The inferior oblique muscle extorts the eye
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Fantasy of a White Coat
Allen, MS1

It is finally Friday, November 1st, 2019. I find myself sitting here once again, but this time, the circum-
stances are a bit different. My teeth and jaw muscles work hard to put down the fifth artichoke sunflower goji
Buddha bowl of the week. As a vegan who has exchanged breaths with The Holy Broccoli in the Sky, this is my
Atlas rock, a burden I alone must carry. My bites are punctuated by a different kind of crunch outside: crispy
autumn leaves followed by hoots and giggles from the neighborhood children. I reflect on the past few months
and realize how drastically my life has changed. Instead of enjoying weekly adventures to the mountains or
spontaneous Harry Potter movie marathons, I have fallen into a constant routine of riding my bicycle to class,
meticulously completing dissections, power posing in the bathroom, hitting the stacks for five hours, and sleep-
ing. Taking my mind off these duties, I play with my collarbone and think longingly of the deep V-neck shirts I
no longer wear. In the ethos of professionalism, I’ve taken to showing less skin.
For now, I am happy, still hungry, but happy and proud of how far I have come. In mere hours, I will
don the shining White Coat of this profession, surrounded by my beautiful mentors, my brilliant colleagues
and friends, and my adoring family. One key figure comes to mind as I recall those who have shaped me into
the person I am today: my daddy. Daddy has always been my greatest advocate and cheerleader. He constantly
encourages me to see the world from eyes different from my own, through literature, through music, through
interpersonal connection. He made sure that I not only worked hard, but also that I maintained nutrition with
fresh vegetables from his garden. Invigorated by the support he has given me, I am prepared to provide the same
kind of support for my future patients each and every day. After all, his eggplant made me the man I am today.
It’s been a mere three months since I’ve moved to Baltimore, but the supercut of this period reveals days
filled to the brim with what have become my favorite activities with my favorite people. My expression grows
into a tender smile when I think about my amazing support system here. The folks down at the Office of Student
Affairs have my back. WebMD continues to be a source of guidance and inspiration. If I ever find myself in a
moody temper, I need not much more than a quick stroll down cobblestoned McHenry Street with the rats and
roaches to brighten my day. I check my e-mail now, which never disappoints to produce more invitations to en-
gaging interest groups. As I delete these e-mails, I’m left with warmth knowing somebody out there cares enough
about me to invite me to things! It is White Coat Day. A wave of excitement rolls radiates up from below. It rolls
up my belly and through my throat — oh! A garlicky burp. With perfect timing, my Apple Watch tickles my wrist
as a reminder to head out soon.

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The Dali Brain
Dr. David Gens, Faculty

Today, we removed the top half of the skull to expose the brain.
This brain however, was not perfectly preserved and therefore was the consistancy of jello. It slid down, back-
wards with the occipital lobe slightly pouring out of the skull, and the frontal lobe slightly collapsed. Not ne-
crotic, just really soft, and fluid. Everything was flowing backwards out of the skull, like lava very slowly oozing
out of the skull.
Immediately I saw Salvador Dali’s melting clocks. This was the melting Dali brain.

Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dali, 1931

What does this dream mean? The melting, limping clocks tell me that time is in no hurry.
The tells me to take time slowly. That time is irrelevant in the scheme of things. That it is melting like
my “Dali Brain”.

White Coat Reflections ◆ 2019

12 hands

i am trying to be phoenix underwood, MS1
more than the sum of
my parts
this claret fluid weeps over my outstretched hands
burying me, six feet beneath the moon,
beneath where you stand
or lie? I’m not sure
what words to use

here
i often stare at my hands-- in windows, mirrors,
lying in my bed
i don’t know quite what to make of them
these vile,
spattered hands gripping this bitter steel
as it pierces into you
i almost feel as if my hands
should be ashamed of these brutal acts,
but you knew this would happen
i look at these hands, at the same time, as if
they belonged to her, to other dreams
or, to me, but they do not
my hands could just as easily be in the grasp of a lover,
caressing these hands, absolving them of their sins, yet
they are here, questioning these atrocities on exhibition
i look at them wrapped around a beer,
knowing they could be the hands
that stand between an urn and a loved one’s hand
i look in the mirror knowing that these hands,
like yours, will tense
as the void beckons me home
i don’t know
what to do with this information,
yet here i am
i am still trying to exceed this inventory,
but i do not know these parts,
just what i have told them to become.

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Beauty in the End
Aaron D'Amore, MS1

During times in lab that often felt surreal, one aspect
reminded me more than anything else of the life that our

patient lived. I will never forget those pink nails.

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Ship of Theseus
John Clifton, MS1

Shocked by the coiled intestines So what if there is no “me”
Their density and malleability That can be seen?
Need we feel anything
She said aghast, “I can’t believe this is all inside of me!” But gratitude
But where is this “me” For the bewildering opportunity
That cannot be seen? To ponder the oddity of this notion:
That ambitious aggregates of epithelial cells
Of course, it’s not in the body. Feel driven to explore their cells
No, that’s just a spleen To better understand their cells
Just a teres In search of some vaporous truth
Just a knee. About the nature of our selves?
But perhaps these pursuits are mere distractions;
Meaty extensions discarded Something tunneling our vision
I would still feel like “me”. Gorging our attention
Then where is this “me” Restricting us from being still
That cannot be seen? Breathing deeply
Closing our eyes.
Well, surely, the brain stores “me”. Only then could we see
We even feel like we reside How we might be
Just like those brave acini
Somewhere vaguely behind the eyes. Whose sacrifice upon which we rely.
But what if Dr. Puche We too hopelessly blossoming
Was to strip away Time-bound actors in a cosmic drama
Each neuron Knowing not what we contribute to.
One by one.
Which scalpel stroke
Would mark the point
Where John becomes

Just a bunch of neurons?
So where is this "me"
That cannot be seen?

With the cloth removed
And the face further penetrated

The only thing in view
Is that our identities are fenestrated.

Emerging each moment anew,
Their fates no different

Than those of sebaceous acini
Whose cells in holocrine secretion

Exist in a familiar situation
Of living to die.

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portraits of the zygomaticus major m. (flexed by the class of 2023)
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White Coat Reflections ◆ 2019

Cardiac Notes 19

Pranaya Terse, MS1

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What's In a Name
Dr. David Gens, Faculty
The Inferior Mesenteric Artery is the Superior Rectal Artery.
The Brachiocephalic Artery is the Subclavian is the Axillary is the Brachial.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

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Ab Imo Pectore

(From the Bottom of My Heart)
Irina Kolesnik, MS1

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First Ten Weeks
Christine Yuan, MS1

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Lost and Found
Anonymous, MS1

A little lost before. But now,
I found my people.
Black, brown, white and every shade in between
I found my people.
They nerd out about the human body just like I do!
I found my people.
They stood silently, respectfully, as we met our first patient in anatomy lab
I found my people.
Motivators, supporters, cheerleaders to keep me going
I found my people.
We work hard, we play (and eat!) harder.
I found my people.
Can’t wait to see where they we go the next few years!
After only a few weeks,
I found my people.

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The Storm
Natalia Sampaio Moura, MS1
Starting medical school feels like walking into a storm. Each heavy raindrop that
falls uncomfortably upon the skin is a new term, concept, or histology image that
needs to be added to an Anki card, reviewed, and learned. The cold wind and the
cloudy night embody your insecurities and self-doubt. But after a while, you look
down and realize you’ve been holding a warm, waterproof jacket on your hands all
along. As you feel the fabric of your jacket, you’re reminded of the reason why you
walked outside in the first place. The jacket is made up of a thick foundation pro-
vided to you by the people you hold most dear and who work in the background
to give you the luxury to focus on your education. The jacket’s waterproof coating
is made up of Dr. Puche’s seamless lectures, your first patient’s Netter-like anatomy,
and the support of your lab mates. You realize you walked outside to learn how to
be the best person out there who can care for others in need. You put on the jacket.
And you realize the time to become that person is now. You have all you need to
brave the storm. You’re ready.

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Never Ending
Kimia Abtahi, MS1

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Journal Entry:

Expectations vs. Reality

Anonymous, MS1

Journal Entry 10/21
Expectations:
Med school has been a goal for almost a decade of my life, an endpoint of once I’m there, I’ll finally be able to do
what I’m meant to do. So much of the past few years has been aimed at getting in, that it almost seemed like the
hard part was done. Sure, I knew in theory that med school would be hard, but to know in practice is so much
different. I thought I would feel constantly inspired, ready to change lives…
Reality:
Emotions do their own thing. Regardless of the path we choose, there will always be moments where we have to
get through the tedious, difficult matter in order to reach our bigger goals.
Yes, ideally I would be grateful at all times, always aware of how blessed I am. But that would be inhuman, and
the human part of us is what makes us good caregivers. To understand that feelings like stress, frustration, im-
patience exist, but also that they are not defining. Rather, we can use these constant changes and challenges to
strengthen ourselves, and in turn learn how to better help others navigate through their own challenges.

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From the perspective of an introvert
Ayushi Aggarwal, MS1

White lights. Outgassing. The sound of Dr. Puche’s melodic voice.
Time has stopped.
The pressure begins to build. The pressure of having to learn copious amounts of material in lecture. The
pressure of having to begin day 1 with a scalpel, cadaver, and a never-ending list of structures. The pressure
of not knowing what I’ll be having for dinner this week.
I glance around at the 160 characters in the room. Some appear anxious, frantically searching for the twelfth
cranial nerve in the anterior neck. Others look more at ease, with their beaming smiles, confidence perso-
nas, and playful personalities.
I can see myself as every one of those characters. On the inside, my emotions race constantly – shifting
gears in the blink of an eye. On the outside, I get that prickly, ear-pinching feeling that comes from being
an introvert.
I glance at the 160 characters in the room –some of them leaning in to hear Dr. Gens’ stories; others who
just can’t seem to get enough of Dr. LaPasha’s optimism and zest for life. On one side, Dr. Merchenthaler,
with his beautiful Hungarian accent, has managed to attract an entire crowd; the idea of Archimedes run-
ning through the streets of Syracuse exclaiming “Eureka!” has never felt so exciting. On the other, Dr.
Pumplin celebrates the old Greek tradition of likening the shape of the tragus to a goat.
Time begins to move.
I pick up my scalpel and remember the day I dreamt of holding one.
And admire the slender, sleek shape of an instrument that has the capacity to do so much.
Then slowly, I begin to shift my attention back to the three characters at my table.
And the pressure on my shoulders begins to fade.
Just as I realize how lucky I am to be here.

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Jocelyn Wu, MS1

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My Worst Enemy
Jocelyn Wu, MS1
White Coat Reflections ◆ 2019

32 Isha Darbari, MS1 Chaoyang Wang, MS1
Journal Entry Sept 7, 2019
Standing in front of the UM Medical Center right One evening during a study break, my friend Isha
now, noticing a patient’s balloons, a little stuffed pointed out how she noticed some toys, balloons,
animal a pile of stuffed animals and dollhouses, flowers, and other decorations inside one of the
some bags of snacks all across in different in-patient hospital rooms across the street in the Medical
Center. Up to that moment, I had felt drained
windows. trying to get through the day's lectures and
It’s so interesting to think that in each of those reviewing seemingly endless Anki decks. But that
windows, each person is likely going through a very one observation allowed me to reflect on how
momentous part of their life, some big event that’s these objects belonged to a patient, likely
shaping them and their families. It’s easy to forget facing some of their most difficult and
that sometimes, especially in the midst of all this vulnerable times of their lives. It reminded me
studying, hearing all the stories of the crazy hours in of why I chose this path to begin with: one day,
residency. But moments like these remind me why I will be a physician with the privilege of
helping a patient through one of their hardest
I’m doing this. times in life. It also made me appreciate how
The fact that the patient and their family are trust- fortunate I am to have the mind, body, and
ability to be a medical student, learning and
ing the healthcare team in such a difficult, high seeing things that some can only dream of.
stress time is SO meaningful. Of course then I would
I wanted to capture this moment of realization
*want* to study as deeply as possible, be as ready to when my perspective shifted.
help them as I can. Yes sometimes I wish we could
The three main points I want to highlight are the
just learn the psych/soc stuff or how to talk with square canvas and geometric composition of the
families or improving patient experience. But how Medical Center, the red, heart-shaped balloon in
could I provide the best services then? The actual the bottom left corner, and the sunset in the
science/medical knowledge is important too (:P) . background. I wanted the squareness of the canvas
I WANT to study so that I can ratify their trust, not and geometric shapes of the Medical Center to
for the feeling of validation, but rather to minimize represent how much the process of applying to
medical school, and even medical school itself,
their worrying about the issue at hand. can make us feel "boxed" into certain archetypes
Also <smiley MS1> just walked by and smiled super of students, checking off boxes (grades, test
scores, extracurriculars, etc...) to reach some
largely, and omg I love how warm and friendly the end goal. I wanted the heart-shaped balloon to
students are here. The student population is so em- serve as a reminder throughout these challenging
pathetic and equally excited to help people. Such a years of academically-focused medical school,
residency, and beyond, to not lose sight of the
warm and inspiring environment to be a part of! compassion and empathy that makes the
Tldr feeling very grateful and ready to do patient-physician relationship so special and far
what I need to do! from "box-y." Finally, the sunset in the
background not only captures the sunset of that
particular night, but also reminds us to
appreciate the persistent beauty of nature and
life that surrounds us in different forms: from
the changing leaves that we step over as we rush
to class, to these vibrant sunsets that paint the
sky.

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Perspective
Chaoyang Wang, MS1

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Reflections of Dr. Puche's Heart
Dr. Adam C. Puche, Faculty

Dr. Puche, sending the Class of 2023
onwards with reflections of his heart...

White Coat Reflections ◆ 2019

These pages are a collection of reflections on the first ten weeks of medical school
contributed by first year medical students in the Class of 2023 and a few of their

professors at the University of Maryland School of Medicine.

This booklet represents our continued effort to create an inclusive outlet of expres-
sion tying together the intimate experiences of our students, faculty, and families.

Everyone in the Class of 2023 was invited to submit a piece.

We hope you enjoy them.

Congratulations on this milestone!

The Creative HeArts team
University of Maryland School of Medicine

Michael Sikorski, GS2
Zahur Fatima Sallman, MS4

Chelsea Alvarado, MS4
Dahlia Kronfli, MS2

Lavanya Garnepudi, MS2
Amrita Sarkar, MS2
Elizabeth Olson, MS1
Chaoyang Wang, MS1
Isha Darbari, MS1

Alyssa Schledwitz, MS1
Jing Ting Yuan, MS1
Alexis Green, MS1

A special thank you to Dr. Sandra Quezada and Dr. John Allen for your inspiration and
support and Mark Brodsky for your hours spent helping put together this booklet.

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