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FEATURE

55 WORDS

The 55-word story is a “micro” literary form with a simple mission: tell a story in exactly 55 words—no more, no
less. Not a poem, not an essay, but a story. This tight structure challenges the author to pack the most punch on a
page as tiny as a Post-It note. Crafting these bite-sized stories exercises the creative muscle unlike other formats yet
its brevity makes it approachable to even the most novice of writers.

Purposeful reflection is imperative to mindful clinical practice and physician wellness, yet many of us struggle to find
the time or the tools to do so. The 55-word story is perfectly suited for busy physicians looking for a powerful yet
efficient method for reflection. The format has been adopted as an approach to narrative medicine, and collections of
stories have been published in JAMA and other medical journals.

Since July 2015, medical students at the UT Health Science Center have been participating in Project 6 -55, an
hourlong guided reflective writing workshop where they write 55-word stories about their clinical experience and
share with their peers. Though many students are initially apprehensive, they are impressed by the power of 55 words
to bring a story to life and some have adopted this as a tool for their on-going reflection and professional growth.

The following collection of stories was written by senior medical students at UT Health San Antonio and showcases
their vast and rich experiences throughout their medical education. We are pleased to share our first quarterly 55
Words feature, and encourage you to try your hand at writing a 55-word story.

Why Is It Morning? The Returning Patient
Ceira Kaylynn Ward Amber Clapper
UTHSA School of Medicine, Class of 2017 UTHSA School of Medicine, Class of 2017
He arrived with back pain, my first admission. What brings you in today?
He left with an inevitable fate, my first farewell. I have chest pain. Not cardiac, you can go home.
He loved the Salisbury steak, my first chuckle on wards. I have shortness of breath. Not pneumonia, you can
He asked me, “What if it isn’t cancer?”, my first difficult go home.
discussion. He will not see his grandchild born, my I have dizziness. Not dehydrated, you can go home.
shoulder was cried upon. He was, my lesson. Why do you keep returning to the hospital?
You have no medical problems we can treat.
The Ride Home I have no home.
Lauren Michael
UTHSA School of Medicine, Class of 2017 Prolonged
Full of ambition with a white coat and an Shaoli Chaudhuri
instant promotion. UTHSA School of Medicine, Class of 2017
“Take ownership of your patient.” Differentials explored We say he’s deluded. Whisper it in the workroom.
and labs sifted. He looks up experiments done on dead pigs, orders we
“She passed, you were out.” reproduce them on his wife of 30 years. He tells us to
I leave didactics with more than my book bag and col- save her, threatens to sue us.
lapse Agonal breathing. Cancer-ridden. She clings on,
into my car. I release what’s locked away. but she’s tired.
Am I strong enough? My thoughts overflow. She tells him to let her go. He won’t.
“Same time tomorrow.”

28 San Antonio Medicine • March 2017