The Realities of Medicine

Left right, left right.

I inhale the fresh air and enjoy the sun glowing off my skin as I start my jog.

Left right, left right.

The rhythm is like music, and stress eases off.

Left right, left right.


Left right, left right.

My thoughts drift to the facts I’ve learned that day.

Each one is attached to a case, a face.

I’d like to recall them to a boyfriend, if I had one.

Left right, left right.

Why don’t you take a break? They say.

Left right, left right.

I recall the night, pacing in the ER where my dad was a patient. Left. Right. Terrified. Thankful that those doctors studied hard. They did everything right.

Left right.

I study to compete with foreigners who have no student debt.

I study to compete with myself.

98th percentile isnt to brag. It’s to save, to help, to make the right calls when it matters.

It’s to ensure I suggest the same preventative measures to everyone, not just those with my same skin color.

Left right, left right.

Why not a break?

I don’t know what drives me. The hours are the same for artists: Constant.

Why not?

My mascara and my long hair will forever be assumed “nurse”.

Yet I refuse to let ambition replace femininity. Instead, the two join hands, and off we go…

Manicured nails and designer glasses look up at me- “you look so tired!”

Left right, left right.



“Why don’t you take a break?” they say.

Left right.

Don’t you see? I smile.

This is one.