The Healer's Art • 2018 • Issue 2

the

artHEALER’S
ISSUE 2
2018

This issue is dedicated to

Dr. Neda Frayha

for being the first to believe in us and for leaving a lasting
legacy of humanism and creativity at our university.
You will always have a home in us, your students.

Copyright © 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, edited, stored, or transmitted
in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher and authors of original works.

Published April 2018 • Printed in Maryland, USA
Any donations to the Creative Hearts team go towards programming and future publications.

On the cover:

Accepting Uncertainty

Chelsea Alvarado, MS2

a foreword
from the Creative HeArts Faculty Advisor
Spring 2018

“At the deepest level, the creative process and the healing process arise from
a single source. When you are an artist, you are a healer; a wordless trust
of the same mystery is the foundation of your work and its integrity.”

Rachel Naomi Remen, MD
Professor, Osher Center of Integrative Medicine
University of California San Francisco

Dr. Sandra Quezada, MD, MS I couldn’t agree more with Dr. Remen. Admittedly, when I engage in
creating art, the one who benefits most from that simultaneous healing
Assistant Dean for Admissions process is me. In a time where the national conversation of physician
Assistant Dean for Academic and burn-out has come to the forefront and its rates are undeniably alarming,
Multicultural Affairs we must value and make time for those things that support our wellness.
Assistant Professor of Medicine, Wellness, meaning not merely the lack of burn-out, but ideally our
Division of Gastroenterology and ability as physicians to fully experience and enjoy the art and science
Hepatology of medicine. By allowing our minds to focus energy and attention
University of Maryland School of in the creative process, we are engaging in a very healthy process as
Medicine well. When creating art, we are present, mindful, purposeful, and in
the moment. We may find clarity, we may get answers to questions we
previously found challenging, better yet we may allow ourselves a space
for restorative and rejuvenating quiet, yielding a mindset that is open
and ready to take on our work with joy.
I am so grateful to our many students on the Creative HeArts Team
who have worked so thoughtfully to create this beautiful collection of
artistic works. Our students already know how important nurturing
their own wellness is, and I believe theirs is a generation of physicians
who will be leaders that inspire in our wonderful profession a culture
of wellness, self-worth, and satisfaction in their work that will translate
into thoughtful patient care, and physician resilience and happiness.

the

artHEALER’S
ISSUE 2
2018

the Creative HeArts team

Zahur Fatima Sallman, MS2 Michael Sikorski, MS2
Co-chair Co-chair

“Despite the all-consuming nature of med- “Listening to a patient’s story is of-
ical school, working with classmates who ten humbling and humanizing. The
value creativity and humanism in medicine same applies to the stories of medical
has been incredible. From the beginning, students and professionals. Creative
Creative HeArts has been my anchor and HeArts has helped me engage the most
has truly kept my imagination alive. I hope personal and emotional aspects of my
that in some small way, we’ve encouraged own journey through medical training
others to embrace their creative spirit and and share all the joys and challenges.”
to never let go of their talents.”
Danielle Day, MS2
Rutvij Pandya, MS2
“It has been amazing watching The Healer’s
“This 2nd year working with Creative HeArts Art grow from the Reflections booklet that
has really been a highlight of medical school Fatima and Michael designed a year and
for me, collaborating with awesome peers to a half ago. I love that it has become a space
incorporate humanities into our medical train- where the entire UMB medical school com-
ing. Looking forward to the next generation of munity- whether faculty, medical students
students to carry on this artistic tradition for our or CURE scholars- can express the all of the
community, patients, faculty and classmates. Go triumphs and obstacles that they have faced
HeArts!” during their journey towards and through
their career in medicine.”
Emily Min, MS2
Abby Goron, MS2
“Art is such a powerful way of sharing emotions
with others, and empathizing with others is such “Creative HeARTs is an opportunity for me
an important part of medicine. I love getting to place value on humanism and art in medi-
to see the artistic, creative side of our talented cine, reflect on my experiences in medicine
classmates and faculty members. Being a part and provide deeper meaning to them, as well
of the Creative HeArts team has given me this as pursue and craft healthy hobbies. It’s been
wonderful up-close access to so many beautiful a pleasure to encourage this same type of ex-
works of art, and I’m truly thankful.” pression in others, and marvel at just how
creative and incredible our colleagues are.”
Gideon Wolf, MS2
Shterna Sofer, MS2
“The ability to come together as a med school
community and form such powerful pieces of “The journal and workshops are wonderful
art is what makes being on Creative Hearts ways to de-stress, maintain old hobbies and
such an honor.” learn new skills. I am honored to work with
my talented colleagues as part of the Cre-
2 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018 ative HeArts team to facilitate these oppor-
tunities for the medical school community.
At the same time, Creative HeArts allows
me a space to process and reflect on my own
journey.”

The Creative HeArts team is a student group that fosters creative expression and reflection in medicine through the
arts and humanities. We publish twice annually -- the School of Medicine White Coat Reflections booklet in November
for first year medical students, and The Healer’s Art in May for all UMSOM students, residents, faculty, staff, and af-
filiates. We host hands-on workshops year-round in various artistic mediums such as painting, photography, drawing,

dancing, and creative writing.

Chelsea Alvarado, MS2 Ankur Vaidya, MS2

“Being a member of Creative HeArts has been “Creativity drives productivity. It’s a vessel
one of the most meaningful experiences of my of expression -- an invitation to innovate
first two years in medical school. I cherish the one’s approach to life’s challenges. Creative
ability to both express myself creatively and en- HeArts provides opportunity to explore
courage others to explore their artistic abilities, oneself and gives a chance to artistically
especially if they are just discovering them!” share one’s passions and ideas. I find that
invaluable, both personally and profes-
Meghna Ramaswamy, MS1 sionally.”

“Creative HeArts has given me an avenue to Lucy Wang, MS1
continue dancing in medical school, and has
helped me meet other students pursuing their “At the end of one particularly blah week,
own passions. I have also noticed the enthusi- my impulse to create was overpowering. I
asm with which my classmates contributed to went outside and painted for the first time
the White Coat Reflections Journal, and being in over a year--and found myself again.
part of the team that celebrates the individual- Giving yourself time to express yourself
ity of the people going through the journey of is beyond important--it’s what makes you,
medical school together has been a great aspect you. This is why I aim to carry the goals of
of my first year here at UMB.” Creative Hearts forward.”

Saachi Nangia, MS1 Molly Himmelrich, MS1

“Words have long been my companion. Read- “Creative HeArts has given me the op-
ing them revealed new worlds: children living portunity to explore what art means to
in boxcars or traveling in magic treehouses, me as I progress through medical school.
while penning them gave me an independence I have always appreciated the arts, so hav-
I thrived on. Though it is a love that has re- ing a creative outlet helps me focus on my
mained true, these days it is often shelved. Be- school work and remain optimistic even
ing part of Creative HeARTS has helped me when school gets tough.”
reconnect to these roots and once again appre-
ciate the thrill of words.” Christine Server, MS1

Kathryn Champ, MS1 “Being a part of Creative Hearts reminds
me of the importance of finding time to do
“To me, Creative HeArts is a reminder to al- the things that make me feel like a whole
ways keep my artistic side close. I get so much person. For me that means playing the vio-
joy from drawing when I face challenges during lin and writing, but it’s inspirational to see
my time in medical school. I think creativity all the other ways that our classmates ex-
and medicine go hand-in-hand, and it means press themselves. There is something espe-
the world to me that I can continue pursuing cially grounding about being able to share
my own artistic passions and encouraging my in this creative spirit.”
classmates’ passions as well.”
3The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

contents1 Foreword from Faculty Sponsor
2 Notes from the Creative HeArts Team

Student & Faculty Submissions

6 On Lincoln’s Famous Speech Jay A. Perman, Faculty
Kieran Tebben, MS1
7 Breathing Dreams Like Air Renee Clarke Robinson, MS2

8 First Impressions Becky Lee, MS3

9 Sorry, I’m Just a Medical Student Miriam Robin, MS2

10 Bipolar Personality Disorder, Type II Christina Tise, MS4

11 A Picture Worth 1,454 Words Rishi Kundi, Faculty

12 43°57’0’’N 59°54’57’’W Ankur Vaidya, MS2

13 [Balti]morbidity Allison Rose Durham, MS2

14 Helicopters Overhead Sara Baumer, MS1

15 Too Young to Go J. M. Blake, MS2

16 Eavesdropping Brenna Beck, MS2

17 Untitled

18 Henna on Repurposed Wood Richa Manglorkar, MS3
Cara Felter, Faculty
19 One Last Breath

20 NABS ANATOMY.03: ACCOMMODATION Nabid Ahmed, MS2
Amiya Ahmed, MS2
21 I Once Was Zahur Fatima Sallman, MS2

22 Looking Ahead Kavita Bhatnagar, MS2

23 Autumn Snow Emma Kaplan, MS2

24 Something Rotten B. Tenorio, MS2

Which is heavier, a lb of feathers or pennies? Anonymous, MS1

25 Take a Breath Katarina Vasiljevic, MS3

26 Left vs. Right Abby Goron, MS2

27 Guilt and Gratitude Anonymous, MS2

28 Ode to Second Year

4 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

for more submissions including multimedia & videos,
please visit the Creative HeArts website at

creativeheartsumb.wixsite.com/thehealersart

29 Sevilla Serenity Donna Parker, Facultycontents

30 In the Thick Mire Anonymous
Saad Shamshair, MS2
31 Halfway/White Coat Advocacy/Baltimore Brenna Beck, MS2

32 and what of belonging? Tricia Tyson, MS1

34 Quarter-Life Crisis Anonymous, MS3

35 Waves Sandra Quezada, Faculty

36 Thrive Kristen Langan, MS2

37 My People Sanjay Chainani, MS3

38 Night on L&D Michael Sikorski, MS2

39 A Student Doctor’s Bag Chelsea Alvarado, MS2

40 Accepting Uncertainty Brandon Hassid, MS3

Christine Server, MS1

42 Let this be your Mantra K. Pham, MS3

43 Tucked away in pages of my moleskine Ankur Vaidya, MS2

44 The Life of a Medical Student - Phase 2 Zahur Fatima Sallman, MS2

45 Lion-Hearted Amiya Ahmed, MS2

46 Worlds Apart E. Albert Reece, Faculty

47 A “Peace” Experience

48 Health Care Disparities Scholars of Project Cure 2017-2018

50 By Your Side Shapir Rosenberg, M.D.
Rutvij Pandya, MS2
51 Harmony Ashley La, MS2

52 As Long as I Can

5The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

On Lincoln’s Famous Speech
Jay A. Perman, M.D.
President of UMB

I was fortunate recently to have brunch with a It was in 1863
number of students—many of them from this jour- At Gettysburg PA
nal—at the home of UMB Executive Vice President That Lincoln made a famous speech
and Provost Bruce Jarrell, MD, FACS. While Dr. Unparalleled today.
Jarrell trained as a surgeon, and found enormous The folks they came from everywhere
They came from far and near
success in the operating room, he’s also a highly They came from ‘Jersey and New York
skilled and decorated ironworker (and, I hope, a The President to hear.
They heard from Edward Everett
future contributor to The Healer’s Art). A leader in his field
And then they heard the famous speech
As Dr. Jarrell was showing the students his work, That in our hearts is sealed
I mentioned that I, too, had a bit of an artistic Abe Lincoln rose upon his feet
streak—that I played violin throughout high school The crowd made not a sound
and sang in the choir. Plus, I considered myself He fumbled quickly in his vest
And then the speech he found.
something of a poet. “Four score and seven years ago”
The famous man began
The students challenged me to contribute to The And in a very quiet tone
Healer’s Art, and I hope it won’t be considered a Right through the speech Abe ran.
cop-out that I’m reprinting here a poem of mine Soon afterwards the speech was done
originally published years ago (when I was about The crowd made not a sound!
10 years old) in Chicago’s Garfieldian/Austin news- A failure thought the President
paper. (I’d be concerned with copyright infringe- The truth he later found.
ment, but I’m assuming everyone associated with The tribute was a perfect one
the now-defunct paper is long dead.) Prepare to be Indeed I must profess
Unequalled so it shall remain
wowed by my insight and eloquence. The Gettysburg Address.

There is a serious point to this submission: I really
did love the arts as a young person. But as I in-

creasingly focused on my profession, I lost that part
of me that was given over to creative expression,
and I regret it. This journal is such a lovely way to
keep your creative impulse alive and vibrant. And
I hope you’ll do more with your talents than I did
with mine.

6 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Breathing Dreams Like Air
Kieran Tebben, MS1
7The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

I texted the resident to let me back inside. First Impressions
I was ready to continue shadowing in the TRU. Renee Clarke Robinson, MS2
I was passed by an older woman on a gurney, as white as the
sheet covering her.
“Woman in her 80s, single MVA, found down.”
“She’s tachycardic…”
160
“I’ve found femoral lacerations…”
“How was your weekend?”
150
“…possible internal bleeding…”
“My kid had a soccer game.”
140
“Her pressure is dropping…”
“I really wish the coach would give him more playing time.
He would do better if he had more time in the game.”
100
“Get lines in her.”
“I just played golf. I need to work on my drive.”
“Yeah, I need to get to a course. Where did you go?”
“She’s crashing!”
45
“That’s a good one. I need to head that way”
“Start compressions!”
“What kind of clubs do you use?”
“Take over compressions!”
I wondered if the crowd was normal. It was as if the entire
TRU was on standby, curious about the status of the patient.
I asked the person next to me:
“Is it always like this?”
“I have no idea… It’s my first day.”
“Mine too.”

8 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Sorry, I’m Just a Medical Student
Becky Lee, MS3

“I don’t want a team that has students,” the patient says.
“Listen, I don’t want a million people telling me different things.
Taking turns waking me up in the morning. It’s not worth it.”
A pause.
“It’s just that I’ve been admitted to the hospital 18 times this year.”
He laughs to himself, “The one thing a medical student does well
is listen.”
“Every time they admit me, they end up discharging me and I
come right back. You know, I know everyone’s name who works
with me. My mother and I try to be as nice as we can to everyone
who works with us. She knows. She’s been here 18 times this year,
too. It matters. You never know if someone is in a bad mood. That
affects your care. I know that nurse’s name. My mother crocheted
a hat for his baby.”
“That’s also why I try to learn all these languages.” He says hello
in Korean, then in Amharic for my classmate. He smiles when we
respond back.
“I’m just frustrated. It’s always the same thing over and over. They
just try to get me out. They don’t try to listen, they have a set plan
to send me home and they’re determined to do it.”
“Okay, I still don’t want a team with medical students.”
Another pause.
“But you two can come back.”

9The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Deep in the pockets of my white coat
I feel the persistent vibrations of my phone
making me forget to ask about fever, sore throat
things I should have known
because we practice and rehearse
but nothing prepared me for this Tuesday afternoon
telephone call in the emergency room where nurses
bustle over the sirens of the ambulance bay
and gowned patients groan and curse.
Graveside, strangers whisper; their faces say
they just met a twenty-four year old secret— he had a daughter?
The wind whips my curls around my face. A cold day
for April, the Rabbi says. As is custom, I pour water
on my hands to wash away death before I leave the cemetery.
I must notify still his old friends from Montana, and from his alma mater,
the Vermont military school that made him bury
his ability to ask for help beneath the waist-high stacks of trash
or between the pages in his three thousand book library.
In his bedroom, between handfuls of change and wads of cash
I find six year old me smiling back from a dusty framed photograph
I didn’t know we both owned. That afternoon, his mustache
scratched my cheeks, which made me squeal and laugh
from the mountain that was his shoulders.
So different from the man with the self-written epitaph.
*This poem is written as a Terza rima, a rhyming verse stanza form that consists
of an interlocking three-line rhyme scheme. It was first used by the Italian poet
Dante Alighieri.

Bipolar Personality Disorder, Type 2
Miriam Robin, MS2

10 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

A Picture Worth 1,454 Words

Christina Tise, MD/PhD Candidate

The following is an excerpt from a longer piece by the author written as an undergraduate: 11

“For me it was right around the age of thirteen
when I really started to get interested in pho-
tographs. Like most teenage girls, the walls
of my room were covered with pictures of
family and friends. In many ways my picture-
covered walls acted as a security blanket when
my “typical teenage girl insecurities” decided
to make a visit. As I got a little older, I became
more selective with the pictures I allowed to
hang on my wall. The pictures that now hung
on my wall had meaning, were full of emotion
and had to be worth a minimum of a thou-
sand words. Finding pictures worthy of my
wall was a timely process, requiring hours of
flipping through my mother’s photo albums.
Flipping through the albums over and over
again allowed me to see things I had not seen
the first time through. However, there was
always one photograph that always earned a
second glance; a picture of my grandmother
holding my brother, asleep on her lap. The
beauty of the picture was stunning and made
think, “If only I had a picture of Grandma and
me as magnificent as this one.” There were
even times I envied the fact that my brother
had been the one in my grandmother’s lap
that day. Perhaps if I had sat on her lap that
day, I would have fallen asleep and this beau-
tiful picture would have been of Grandma
and me instead of Grandma and my brother,
who couldn’t care less about old family pho-
tographs. It just never seemed fair, until a few
years ago when I realized the true meaning of
”the photograph, causing all envious thoughts
towards the photograph to disappear.
The essay can be found in full printed in the online publication of this issue at the Healer’s Art website

The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

43°57’0”N 59°54’57”W
Rishi Kundi, M.D.
Faculty

Sable Island, Nova Scotia.

12 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

[Balti]morbidity
Ankur Vaidya, MS2

“In 2016, 694 people died of drug and alcohol overdoses in
Baltimore City, a 56.6% increase from 2015. Of those who died of
overdose in 2016, 454 people died as a result of heroin intoxication.
This is more than the number of people who died of homicide in
Baltimore City in the same year.” ~ 2017 Baltimore City CHA
“2,699 people [are]estimated to be homeless in Baltimore City.
Seventy-two percent are male, 28% female, and 83% are African
American. Forty-four percent have a substance abuse disorder,
22% suffer from mental illness, 4% have HIV/AIDS. The percentage
of people experiencing homelessness has decreased by 5% since
2015, and the number of homeless veterans has decreased by 26%.
However, the unsheltered count has increased by 62%.”
~ 2017 Baltimore City CHA

“[T]here has been a considerable increase in the homicide rate,
with the rate increasing from 3.4 homicides per 10,000 residents in
2014 to 5.2 in 2016. The youth homicide mortality rate is 31.3 per
10,000. As with the rest of the United States, homicides and non-
fatal shootings are the leading cause of morbidity and mortality in
youth aged 15-24 years.” ~ 2017 Baltimore City CHA

13The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

How cruel it is, every day, hearing helicopters overhead
I always wonder, if one had been there, would you still be dead?
Instead, you passed away in the beauty of the desert
I would give every drop of my blood for you to still be present.
The last time I saw you, you squeezed my shoulder and said I love you Rose
The last time I talked to you, you promised you would make it home.
The next time I saw you, in a hospital gown
Eyelashes as long as ever
Your long hair tied up in a bun
Sleeping
Peaceful
and cold.
Your eyes looked like they could open any minute
I willed it as hard as I could
Open
Open
Open! Helicopters Overhead
I need you back! Allison Rose Durham, MS2
I can’t live without you!
But they remained, as have I,
Closed.
I went looking for you in the mountains.
I tried to breathe you in on the wind.
I tried to feel you in the moss beneath my bare feet.
Lost in the darkness, as my heart is ripped out of my chest
Are you there?
Did you just squeeze my shoulder?
Again I try to fill the hole in my heart with medicine
Even though it failed our father, and it couldn’t save you
So I work, I learn, I do the best I can.
How cruel it is, every day, hearing helicopters overhead
I always wonder, if one had been there, would you still be dead?

14 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

5

Too Young to Go
Sarah Baumer, MS1

Sweet, sweet baby Sweet, sweet baby
Why must this be? What can we do?
You are too young You are too young
to lose your smile, to ever need
all your future feel such sad pain
Sweet, sweet baby Sweet, sweet baby
It is not fair Tears fill our lives
You are too young You are too young
to be given to know how might
so little time we say good bye
Sweet, sweet baby Sweet, sweet baby
We have no words So pure and whole
You are too young You are too young
to be told that to go but will
there is no cure grow in our hearts

I wrote this poem based off a video presentation given to our
class by the mom of a child who passed away of Tay Sachs be-
fore his second birthday. Her presentation was set to “Sweet
Sweet Baby” by Michelle Featherstone.

15The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Eavesdropping
J.M.Blake, MS2

16 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

5

you, me, your husband, your mom before your flesh was hulled from the bone
your body a shell you shiver, stare you forced a promise
we pat your hands and place a blanket always fireworks (your favorite)
(you don’t notice) and laughter after we cry
the IV lines are long so you can move
from the couch to your bed funeral over, crumpled body interred
(but you don’t) we gather by the pool
light fireworks tell stories cry
breath ragged fickle summer rains us out,
gasping demands retreat to the porch
body we are live wires
empty shell bottled up.
somehow you are frail I walk into the rain, run, feel each drop
collapse into the wet grass and cry
you thought you were finally pregnant
instead the crab –– tears mingling with the sky
digesting ovaries, uterus we exhaust ourselves
limiting your days (the storm and I)
turning vibrance laughter fondness for fireworks and I can hear fireworks up the hill
into something resembling Auschwitz in the living room.
Untitled
we cry, tell stories
you groan and we realize you hear us,
the stories –– are we making you sad?
Brenna Beck, MS2

17The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Henna on Repurposed Wood
Richa Manglorkar, MS3

18 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

One Last Breath

Cara Felter, PT, DPT, MPH
Faculty

“So, the good news is that I found someone to watch Toohey for as long as you need Grandma, so you
can stop worrying about that.”
Seahseiesrigohnedth, eanedarws.itBhytohbesneerxvtatbiroena,tiht,ltohoekleadboeraesdiepr afottrerhnerthtoato.had marked the past few days changed to something
Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…nice, even rhythm for a change.
I’d suspected she was worried about her cat and who would look after him when she was gone. That morning one
of her neighbors had agreed to adopt Toohey the cat—if the inevitable happened.
With that matter handled, I moved to my semi-permanent spot next to her on the hospice room recliner chair.
It was time to listen to my online lectures…can’t fall too far behind in class. My left ear was listening out for
grandma, the right ear was fitted with an ear bud and dedicated to Biostats.

Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…Biostats…paired t-test…ANOVA…
A s the hours went by the pattern grew subtly more distant and unpredictable.
Inhale…exhale…inhale…..exhale…..inhale…exhale…Biostats…paired t-test…
ANOVA….inhale…..exhale.….inhale….…exhale…..…inhale………exhale…
I shifted in the awkward recliner, and settled into the lecture once more. Although the words of the lecture were
entering my right ear and bouncing around on my tympanic membrane, it was there that they were getting stuck,
jumbled, lost, and never fully completing their journey to the brain. My left ear was capturing the more important
information in that moment.
Suddenly, the left ear alerted the right to the possible absence of breath. In one fluid movement the laptop was off
my lap and I was standing, my hand on her arm. Had she not been in the last moments I would’ve woken her for
sure. I listened, carefully, expectantly.

—the definite absence of breath—
Partly afraid, and partly relieved for what I suspected was the end of her suffering, I scampered to the door and
summoned her nurse.
“I think it’s over.”
She was swift but calm in crossing the nurses’ station and following me back into the room while moving the
stethoscope to her ears—her turn to listen. I watched as she gracefully moved over my grandma to listen to her
heart.
GASP!
Startled, we both jumped, literally jumped, as my grandma took that one—last—breath.
“Yes, it’s time; you can kiss her goodbye,” the nurse suggested as she exited to leave us in the privacy of
our final farewell.
I leaned over, tentative, wondering if she would startle me again. Instead she was gentle, without surprise.
I did give her that one last kiss and squeezed her hand while it was still warm.

19The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

ANCACBOSMAMNAOTDOAMTIYO.0N3:

Nabid Ahmed, MS2

20 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

I once was articulate, words were not my enemy.
Rather they flowed from my lips.
Like water from a vase.
They would washover whomever cared to listen.
And I. I cared not who did listen, not overly so.
All I sought was to say, what I wanted to say. I Once Was
When I wanted to say it.

I once. Amiya Ahmed, MS2

I once had a voice. A voice that would not falter.
A voice that carried through a room of physicians
As I stood a young, doe-eyed freshman in college
Speaking of matters I reserached with my own two hands.
And I stood tall with a voice that was strong and proud.
Yes, I was proud.

There once was a time, when I was disinhibited
Not too much so, never being hit near the front of the head.
But rather, not to be frozen with fear
By the thought of failure.
By the judgement of others.
By my judgement of myself.
I could speak up in small groups or big gatherings
Accepting that I would get up if I stumbled along the way.

But right now, I am none of those things.
I. I am no longer articulate.
My pride has abandoned me.
And I am often paralyzed by my inhibitions.
I. I am not happy.

But
I hope. No, I believe.
There will be a time, not too far away
When I will happily say: I once was...

21The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Looking Ahead
Zahur Fatima Sallman, MS2

Photograph taken by Saad Shamshair, MS2

22 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Autumn Snow featuring a poem by Robert Frost,
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
Kavita Bhatnagar, MS2

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

23The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Something Rotten
Emma Kaplan, MS2

There was something rotten in you
Something you could no longer sniff out
You rolled your thoughts like a pill in your
fingers
Biting harder for the will to start moving
How you shook
As the thin strips of you meant to be blackened
Withered to insubstantia

Which is Heavier,

a lb of feathers or pennies?

B. Tenorio, MS2

I learned that my opinions weighed
but a feather on a mind compared to their

pennies of thoughts.
When their wind blew mine away,

all I had left was their change.
It seemed a fair exchange considering

this was the only currency that
mattered in this world.

And so I spent their coins
where I could

and put their money where my mouth was.

24 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Take a Breath

Anonymous, MS1

Porphyrins, heme.
Oxygen, R-state hemoglobin.
Learning is fun.
But take a breath,
Every now and then.
Day after day,
Studying.
Life continues,
All around me.
But I’m studying.
Friends’ children.
Sister’s marriage.
Mom’s cancer.
And I’m studying,
Still.
I’m honored to be here;
Happy to embrace this journey.
But curious too,
About immunology.
And life outside the books.
I look ahead.
And see patients in my future.
But I need patience now.
These joys will come.
I hope.
Take a breath.
And know that I’m alive.

25The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Left vs. Right
Katarina Vasiljevic, MS3

26 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Guilt and Gratitude

Abby Goron, MS2

Guilty for taking twenty minutes Grateful for the anxiety of only starting to study
to put away laundry that has been piling up. at 6 PM today because
For weeks. There is an exam tomorrow. I spent the afternoon with a patient
But I have no clean underwear. who gave me the privilege to examine and listen.
Guilty for taking an hour Grateful for the toils of memorizing
to cook dinner for myself minute details; hundreds of drugs that
instead of buying food at the hospital. with the stroke of my pen I will one day prescribe
Again. There is an exam tomorrow. to change and save lives.
But I crave a home-cooked meal. Grateful for friends and future physicians who
Guilty whenever the same fleeting thought enters remind each other that
my mind-- every ounce of knowledge helps a patient
if I did not study medicine, and that it’s okay to cry sometimes.
I could enjoy a “normal” weekend. It’s been hard.
Free. There would be no exam tomorrow. But the guilt will be worth it.
Guilty for feeling guilty.
Tired of feeling guilty.
But grateful that I have something worth feeling
guilty about.

27The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Ode to Second Year

Anonymous, MS2

Ode to Second Year
“Sketchy is King,
It’s all that you need.
It has everything
You need to succeed.”
“Don’t forget about Step,
Did you buy your First Aid?
If you’re truly adept,
You’ll have annotations made.”
“I just watched Pathoma
For the 1000th time.
There’s a burning aroma,
For my laptop is fried”
“With a UWorld subscription
Your knowledge will grow.
I’m on my tenth question,
Only 40,000 more to go.”
As I take it all in,
As my brain starts to seethe,
I wonder oh when,
Will there be time to breathe?
The tips, the advice,
The friendly reminders
Stop feeling so nice
As I put on my blinders.
And prepare for the war,
The next battle or test
Though I’m already sore
There’s no time to rest.

28 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Sevilla Serenity

Donna Parker, M.D.
Faculty

29The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

In the Thick Mire
Anonymous

I woke up today and felt okay. An exhilarating, life-affirming okay. The kind of okay that makes me
realize the thoughts last night were the product of my malfunctioning brain driving darkness over
what should be regular, unremarkable thought patterns. Am I remembering this all correctly? I
can’t possibly have thought like that, allowing ideas that ought to be foreign and horrific to anyone
of sound mind. Who am I to be where I am? Do I belong here? Should a potential doctor have a
mind that works the way mine does? Or is this normal? I can’t tell. Can I go through medical school
feeling like this? I’m not sure at times. Some days, I feel like it’s all a formality. Like I’m just biding
my time until it all eventually, inevitably, comes crashing down. Everyone will be shocked and
at a loss. Except for me. They’ll wonder how I, who seemed so together and well-adjusted on the
outside, could end up like this. I won’t think that. If anything, I’ll wonder how I held out so long.
I’ll think, “At least I made it this far before the end, which I was moving inexorably towards, finally
arrived.” I feel that it’s coming. I hope it doesn’t. I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t. But I’m not sure
how much control I have over the eventuality of my circumstances. I’m genuinely unsure. I want to
seek help, but I’m afraid. I can’t quite articulate what I’m fearful of, but I can say for sure that fear is
what I’m feeling. Maybe fear with some angst mixed in. I think about what will happen if I do get
help. Will that be the panacea to all my problems or merely a blip in my descent? I was physically
uneasy when we had a discussion on depression in medical schools in class and the older student
leading it mentioned the statistic that ten percent of medical students have suicidal ideation. I
hate to feel like a statistic. It’s dehumanizing. I want to think my problems are unique to me and
can’t be encapsulated by some stats or case reports. In my case, I don’t really think my condition
has anything to do with my enrollment in medical school, just a simple case of True, True, and
Unrelated.
I don’t know what lies ahead but right now I feel okay. And despite the mediocrity of that word, it’s
immensely positive for me. Okay means I can keep moving forward, understanding what I’m going
through but persisting nonetheless. I hope this okay-ness sticks around for a while. I know it won’t
be here indefinitely but if I can take it all in now, feel the fullness of being okay, maybe it will get me
through the next valley. I have goals I want to accomplish, people and communities I want to serve;
I don’t want to let this hold me back. I don’t think I’ll ever put this completely behind me, but I think
that I can persevere in the service of what I feel is important. I endure to do work worth doing in
spite of feelings that make me want to cast aside what I value. This temporary feeling of adequacy is
allowing me to glimpse a future less drowned by muck and more enveloped in the glow of what is
possible. What awaits me tomorrow? I’m unsure. But right now, I feel okay.

30 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

“Use your white “ Halfway/
coat to make
positive change. White Coat Advocacy/
Baltimore

Saad Shamshair, MS2

31The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

and what of belonging?
Brenna Beck, MS2

and what of belonging?
bare feet, berry stained
planted firmly on dirt road
unlike my eyes
on the always horizon
hazed over with dust, distant car

(I want my own dust cloud,
the rumbling flash
and arc that means pathway to town,
to school and to books,
to a different life)

dust gravitates slowly
the roadway restores
as I swat mosquitoes and watch.

my young body, lean then
grows tracings and stripes
stretchmarks telling stories I hide––
when I grow far too tall far too fast far too thin
for my skin to keep up with its size

one night after dishes
I’m caught sucking marrow
the carcass was meant for the trash
hungry but used to not asking for more
(there never is ‘more’ so don’t ask)
feel the heat in my face, my ashamed loss of
words
spin it–– joke now of gluttony of greed
because better make light of the hunger I feel
than to shame those at home with my need.

proudly say strongly say I want to feed
others, their bodies–– and me
I want to heal, to fix all kinds of pain
fix up want fix up hunger and need
(clear the dust that hangs heavy, keeps clinging
to me)

32 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

instead I learn place, so doctors seek answers befitting the form
well, my place–– woman’s role but how to explain:
but how to submit to be quiet you eat what you grow––
when want, drive, capacity or not when you don’t grow enough?
see cirrus see chrysalis? an expat I am
when whirling leaves must have names? from one class to another
(who knew? pinnate truncate obcordate–– stoically glib in bold tongues
there’s more I speak science and culture, the privilege of
whorled alternate, how they’re arranged) ‘have’
so I slip out instead to the quiet gold gloam while ‘have not’ hides discreet left unknown
my peculiar dear friend–– forest, at day’s end until questions–– I’m outed by wonder
and I sit, watch the sun fall, (not bone density vitamins teeth)
ponder the trees I revel in ask–– amazed by each answer
plotting my exits, each moment, my dreams by etymology etiology, naming each path
for practical reasons, please tell me exactly each particular wound with a cure to attach
when will I be full-grown and free? fix the pain, fix the wound,
(I want my own room and stroke the scars that we form––
a dust cloud to town.) tender strong bridging of collagen’s arm
for some time all (us) five now status post oath, a new place a new world
shared one room–– labyrinthine beds more than job than new arc than grey dust in
backtoback sister warmth, the sky––
and mischief (oh brothers!) capacity to wield in corporeal lands
an armlength away the power of feeding of healing,
cacophonous sleep sounds, a glorious mess each hand
this peace in our home, transforming one world to the next
this is rest. and so goes the molting (pupa to imago)
long after I finally was grown new form yet same genes on one path
my PCP assumed I’d been vegan when I bridge my divide we bridge ours
(your parents were hippies?) plant my feet and belong––
because poverty can’t look like me in both worlds
I first felt confused but then saw it–– you see
me belonging, here
(as if no denizen of this world comes from
struggle?)
but it’s true that my heels are not dusty
no gravel haze dullens my arc
and though I can still feel it still breathe it––
you can’t

33The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Quarter-Life Crisis

Tricia Tyson, MS1

“I want to live forever,” I once said.
We can do that now, you know.
Strapped to machines to breathe
And circulate
And eat
You too can live forever.
How does that feel?
The beauty of living is in the timeline.
In the whimsical falling of sand through that hourglass.
The inevitability of death
Makes the meaninglessness of life unbearable.
So we search
For god
For answers
For beauty
We search and we search and we search
Until we die
Because if we learn enough
Or love enough
Or feel enough
Maybe we can slow down our clock.
Or, at least, numb the ticking in our heads.
Breathe.
Let the air enter
Your nose.
Pass
Into your lungs,
Filling
Your veins.
Knowing you can do this
Is enough.

34 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Waves

Anonymous, MS3

Waves
As fast as it comes, it goes
Without mercy. Without warning.

Bleeding
It drains as it grows, and weakens
Trying to hold on. Trying to keep

soothing.
Pain

It tears and it rips, it burns
Can’t stop screaming. Can’t stop

piercing.
Numb
The time has come, shields up
Stop feeling. Stop crying.
Empty
Digging for something, but no
Wanting more. Wanting feeling.
Repeat
Peace
It’s rare and fleeting, it’s calm
No more fear. No more aching.

35The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Thrive

Sandra Quezada, M.D., M.S.
Faculty

36 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

My People

Kristen Langan, MS2

I hear something - the pure, angelic sound of a chorus of voices, united in song.
Arms raised high, eyes closed, an ethereal translucent haze masking faces of what can only
be thousands of people.
Picking up the dialect of Yoruba from West Africa, I catch glimmers of gold bands, the sun
rebounding off the lustrous metal.
Watching these people whose faces I cannot see, something feels different...curious...
remarkable...
Thoughts interrupted by a quartet in Punjabi, from my Indian brothers and sisters, smeared
in colored powders of every hue - almost flamboyant if not so divine.
Mind wandering back to this nation of my faceless friends, and I know what struck me
before.
Unvexed.
Their voices give them away - they are unruffled by the troubles of this Earth. I can hear
it in the clear high C from the alto and the deep unwavering bass trio in the background.
They are knowing but stand and sing anyway. They are aware but unmoved anyway.
This is my Earth. These are my people, my community, my fellow humans - the people who
seek to find love despite. The people who seek to find joy despite. The people who seek to
find justice despite.
The celestial haze clears, and faces materialize. First the small porcelain nose of a child,
then the knowing, smoke-colored eyes of an elder.
I recognize no one.
They are my people.

37The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Night on L&D II

Sanjay Chainani, MS3 I sat in the team room
I (One hundred feet from where he had lain
With his husband, and the bag filled with the
I sat in the team room, one hundred feet from where he lay diapers and the toys)
In a hospital bed and a hospital gown, Questions running through my head:
His husband beside him, ---
A new bag filled with baby diapers and toys in the corner of What is the right thing to do?
the room, Is it to speak up?
Laboring: Even if there are ten people in the room who
--- know more than you?
“He’s gonna come here and ask for his cervix to be ---
checked?” How can we say we are serving others?
“I heard she left her last Ob-Gyn practice because they When we walk into a room with a smile after
wouldn’t call her him.” disparaging someone just out of earshot?
“I talked to her on the phone and her voice was higher than Why must we be so little as to belittle others?
mine. If you wanted to be a man, at least pretend like your ---
voice is lower.” Why not turn contempt into amazement?
“I’m just saying, I’m not going to take care of him. You all That so many of our patients overcome so
got this one.” much?
--- Why not turn contempt into admiration?
There were so many reasons not to speak up: At the insight to know who one is and the
“They wouldn’t listen anyway.” courage to live that truth?
“They’d put it in my evaluation.” ---
“I’d get a reputation.” And lastly,
“People would like me less.” What is joy?
“Maybe I shouldn’t drag him into all this, not when he’s try- It is when a screaming baby comes out, de-
ing to deliver a baby.” spite it all,
“He’ll have finished giving birth soon anyway.” New to this world
--- With two loving fathers looking down on
But there was one reason to say something – It was the right him.
thing to do. --
---
When night became morning, I decided that the next night
I’d bring it up to someone
If he was still here, laboring on this floor.
I packed my bags, went home and slept.
---
At 6 PM, I came back to the hospital. I picked up a copy of
the patient list.
He wasn’t on it.
He had delivered and left.

38 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

A Student

Doctor’s Bag

Michael Sikorski, MS2

Inside of a student doctor’s
bag:

endless coffee

snacks for your day

pets at home
waiting…

music listened
or played

birds outside of the
windows

study spots near
the Bay

all helping keep us together

as we show up day after day.

Dedicated to Aunt Joy (cartoons based on her book, “How to Draw a Clam”)
and Grandma Josephine Sikorski. Thank you for teaching me how to see all of
the joy in the world around me.

39The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Mountains Are Climbed

One Step at a Time

Brandon Hassid, MS3

40 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Accepting Uncertainty
Chelsea Alvarado, MS2

This is a depiction of my mom's surgical specimen from her surgery last March, during
which she had a full hysterectomy and kidney removed due to endometrial cancer. To
say this time was trying would be an incredible understatement, and I wanted to use
this piece to reflect on where my mom and I are now, physically and emotionally, a year
following her surgery. At times where I have difficulty accepting the uncertainty of life,
I am comforted by remaining in the present and appreciating the time that I have with
my mom.

41The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Let This be Your Mantra
Christine Server, MS1

The question of whether people truly change
is the only one you feel qualified to answer anymore.
The answer is
obviously
but also
hard to know
because you’ve held the hands of a man embalmed
and peeled your gloves off straight after,
sat petrified speechless before a mother’s mourning
and felt relief when the hospital curtain closed on that scene.
Are you changing in seismic shifts or is
the bedrock of your being molded by forces so
stealthy you don’t notice if
there’s something more or something
missing or if it has morphed
into something
entirely new.
On the days when your edges are battered brittle to
break, remember this:
The patient is not just a heart and lungs.
And nor are you
And nor are you.

42 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

5

Tucked Away in

the Pages of
my Moleskine

K. Pham, MS3

43The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

“The Creation of a Medical
Student - future goals giving
life to a dying present”

The Life of a Medical Student -

Phase 2

Ankur Vaidya, MS2

This series is an introspective
and artistic documentation of my
experiences along my journey into
medicine. During my first year, I
created four pieces. So far along in
my second year, I have produced
these three pieces. The full series can
be viewed in its entirety at http://

ankurvaidyaphoto.wixsite.com/
shutterfinger/medical-school
"The Preoccupation of a
Medical Student - in pursuit of
learning to heal, we may forget
those we love"

"The Match of a Medical Student
- the match that matters most is
probably not on a dating app"

44 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

5

Lion-Hearted Green: renewal, energy nature,
Every time I struggled to keep moving
Zahur Fatima Sallman, MS2 forward
I felt more hope that I wouldn’t lose
I started this painting August 2nd. something I loved.
Even now it doesn’t feel Growth.
Complete. This journey is not for the faint of heart
I struggled to make the time to work on it. It’s for the lion-hearted.
“Make,” not “find.”
Because there’s always a choice. 45The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018
Isn’t there?
Study, study, study...or...paint?

Worlds Apart

Amiya Ahmed, MS2

Visiting Bangladesh as a child was my very first exposure to
significant poverty and rampant health disparities. While
there is much more to the beautiful country as pictured above,
it is where my desire to pursue medicine first blossomed.
(Top, Bottom) Photos taken in Dhaka, Bangladesh.
(Middle) Photo taken in Sirajganj, Bangladesh.

46 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Looking and meditating on the painting of a violin
on the multi-color canvas, while listening to the
background music, I could envision a beautiful classical
piece being played slowly. This induced a sense of
serenity and peace. I could also envision many eyes
focused on this violinist as she played this beautiful
piece. The accompanying music nicely complimented
the painting.

I was transported by the music to a period of time
when my daughters were growing up, and I was just
immersed in classical music every day for hours, the
A “Peace” Experience many recitals and multi-instrument music and others.
Likewise, this current painting and music engendered
the same feeling of peace, beauty and transition to some
Dean E. Albert Reece, M.D., Ph.D., M.B.A. distant place. The combination of the violin painting
Faculty and the accompanying music gave me a beautiful
respite, and enriched my day.

Thank you for this therapeutic and mental balm!

47The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018

Perspectives on

Healthcare
Disparities

by scholars of Project CURE
2017-2018
Scholars of Project CURE share their perspectives
on various aspects of healthcare:

Red - Affordability of health care
Orange - Fear of doctors and medical care
Yellow - Racial and ethnic dispairites concerning

access to health care
Green - The role of cultural practices
Blue - Geographical disparities in access to healthcare
Purple - Impact of heatlhcare education

48 The Healer’s Art ◆ 2018