Guest Blog: Truer Words Were Never Written: Highlights From Student Writers

Today's guest blog comes from Marcia Faye, the Manager of Editorial Projects at our Downers Grove Campus. Marcia is an excellent writer, and also a very perceptive reader. Here is her entry:

As the principal writer for the Office of Communications on the Downers Grove Campus of Midwestern University, I can tell you with some degree of confidence that folks here probably get tired of reading "my voice" in the many articles I pen for our award-winning campus newspaper, the Vital Signs. Unlike a lot of academic institutions, MWU does not produce a student-generated newspaper; the fact is, students are just too busy compounding pills or memorizing anatomical minutia to fit in time for publications production and reportage. I, along with our regular Vital Signs readers, do get a welcome word break each issue, however, thanks to students who contribute guest articles. Some student writers hanker after a creative outlet, some are interested in broadcasting news on the MWU chapter of their professional group, still others wish to share stories of their community service projects. Whatever the reason, editorial staffers are always happy to feature students' works on the pages of the Vital Signs. With this being the week of my seven-year anniversary (January 2) as an MWU writer, I thought it a good opportunity to share excerpts from four of my favorite medical student contributions. Their messages stayed with me long after each issue of the newspaper had gone to press.

(Summer 2000) Mark Foley, a second-year student at the Arizona College of Osteopathic Medicine, wrote "Falling Snow," which received an Honorable Mention in the 2000 Arnold P. Gold Foundation Humanism in Medicine essay contest. Mark wrote the essay based on a true story about a miscarriage, and from the perspective of a female patient:

"The doctor and the technician left the room, and I dressed myself. My husband held me and we cried a little more. When we finally composed ourselves enough to face the world, we opened the door and walked out into the hallway. It was empty. All of the patients were gone. We rounded the corner and there stood the doctor. It was obvious that he'd waited to talk to us before we left. He answered my questions and gave me encouragement and wished us the best. It meant a lot to see him waiting for us. We shook hands and said goodbye, and we headed toward the waiting room. We walked past the empty chairs and thought of the trials ahead of us. Neither one of us spoke, but we both knew of the pain the other felt. How would we ever recover? As we opened the door, about to walk out into the lightly falling snow, I looked back. The doctor was gathering his things and he looked up at me, and I saw the tears in his eyes."

(March 2001) Rubin Lin, a second-year student at the Chicago College of Osteopathic Medicine (CCOM), philosophized about his experiences working at a clinic for the underserved in Ensenada, Mexico:

"How then can we establish this rapport and a sense of trust with our patients? We need to first love our patients as ourselves. We need to remember that we were once patients ourselves and had wished our doctors were some better people. We need to be that better person now for our patients. A humanist is a person who has a strong concern for human welfare, values, and dignity. To be a humanistic physician, one needs to hold people, strangers, even enemies, in high esteem. People are precious regardless of their lifestyle or past history. Our role as physicians is to indiscriminately treat each patient with dignity and respect. We accomplish this feat by sensing worth in people."

(November/December 2001) Fourth-year CCOM student Steve E. Sampson, shared his memories--and feelings of helplessness--as a medical volunteer at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001:

"We stood with gloves and gown ready to help--only no patients ever came in. We never knew what would come through the tunnel leading inside, flooded with flashing lights and sirens returning from the World Trade Center. Outside, hundreds of volunteers were passing medical supplies and food in an assembly line fashion while others stood behind the police barrier to root them on. A second team of health professionals was waiting outside to relieve us. After eight hours, our hope began to deteriorate. It was so tragic that we had all of these people and resources to help but there were so few survivors. Yet we did see a number of fire fighters, EMS, and police officers with asthma exacerbation and ocular pain. At 11:00 p.m., it was apparent that the triage center would be converted into a morgue."

(May 2006) First-year CCOM student Todd James was one member of Project UNITY, a nationwide effort of the Student Osteopathic Medical Association (SOMA) to assist survivors of Hurricane Katrina. In his article "Katrina Relief: A SOMA Story of Hope," Todd tells readers that the greatest help his group could give was not what they might think:

"When I first arrived in Pass Christian and saw the level of destruction that had taken place, I was convinced that only a bulldozer, backhoe, or dump truck would be able to do any real work there. But after working for a week with the rest of my colleagues armed with only shovels, rakes, and wheelbarrows, I realized that those heavy machines are limited in their work. What the people needed was the work of the human touch. We listened to their stories of the storm. We shook their hands and asked them how they were doing, how their families were doing, and how this whole thing affected them. We saw the desperation in their eyes and heard the cracking of their voices when they talked about their loss. Oftentimes, we were merely a catalyst for the people to start helping themselves."