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ART & MEDICINE

55 Word Stories

Amanda Cruz – MS3
UT Health San Antonio, Long School of Medicine, Class of 2020

“An intimate view into some bowels.”
The scalpel slices her skin open.
I see liver, small intestine. Her heart beats rhythmically against her diaphragm. Her gallbladder is so green.
I am peering inside, into the deepest parts of her body, ones she’ll never even see. And I’ve never met her. I barely know her name.
I feel embarrassed, an intruder.

“I just want to eat good.”
A group of white coats shuffle into his room. “There is nothing more we can do.”
He understands he’ll die soon.
“Ya gotta help me eat, doc,” he tells me. “I can’t taste anything, and the cancer gets rid of my appetite.”
He will die in three weeks, but his wife makes the best tortillas.
“Worry about your weight, not nails.”
In the OR, the patient is asleep, ready to be cut open.
We have difficulty positioning her on the table; she is heavy.
f i n a l l y
“Her nails look so pretty,” I say. They’re acrylic.
But Nurse is frustrated. “She should worry more about her weight than her nails.”
The room laughs. But the patient doesn’t hear.

Poetry

Alyssa Smith – MS3 swear to god and doctors no more chemo.
UT Health San Antonio, and break a few plates no more watching the woman who raised
Long School of Medicine, or something. me
Class of 2020 srhink and shrivel.
“Stages of Grieving” if it were wednesday,
cry in silent solitude saturday or sunday,
until i forget stay on the phone.
today is a monday i have ribs. thursday, talk about life,
and i am existing make the most of it.
on two cups of coffee make a bargain with god. whatever mature adults do.
and a cesspool of anxiety or the devil.
when mom calls. she says,
either would work. but it's a monday
so i close my eyes
"the cancer is back", if it were friday, and pretend to sleep instead.
and i hang up. decide i would say,
if it were tuesday, maybe this is okay. maybe this means
i would be angry,
no more suffering.

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