Continuing with yesterday’s email from an English prof, I have found a few poems related to medicine that I vividly remember writing.
I remember writing this when I realized that that I could never be a paediatrician. When I first thought of becoming a doctor, I thought of being a paediatrician because I did like working with young people. Once I had completed a rotation in paediatrics, however, I realized that it would be too difficult for me to care for children who were very sick.
I was disappointed in myself that I did not have the fortitude that this work required. This poem was the result. I never gave this poem a title. I’m not good at titles.
Small child,
this hospital bed is no place
for you –
and you know it!
Weak as you are,
You clutch an old doll
And try to get over the rail.
Traitor, I
would like to help you over
and run away
but instead I’ll rock you
and, later, when you’ve fallen asleep,
I’ll put you back in bed.
Someday, when I have the courage,
We’ll both run away.
(This is Caitlin, when she was a small child. I would have helped her run away. I have so much admiration for paediatricians – and children.)
