SacredA sea of blue Blue bags Blue scrubs We stand Heads bowed A moment of Silence A wordless prayer That I may be As generous as You And in this moment This windowless Room with its Blue bags and Blue scrubs Becomes a Cathedral
– The Stethoscopist
– The Stethoscopist
Today was epic.
Beneath the opal waves of art on the second floor of the Li Ka Shing Center, I found my place in line before a rack laden with crisp white coats. Around me, my classmates mingled, parted, and mixed again until we divided into four lines, each reflecting our assignment to one of Stanford’s four academic advising deans: Drs. Neil Gesundheit, Susan Knox, Oscar Salvatierra, and Eric Sibley.
Ahead of me, a bright sheet of paper attached to the coat rack bore the name of Dr. Salvatierra. I waited in line, still nearly bouncing with the excitement of finding out that Dr. Salvatierra would be my advising dean for medical school. Last month, he had spoken to me and eight of my classmates in the Leadership in Health Disparities Program, and everything about him had made an impact on me. His words had resonated with his passion and love for medicine and mentoring, and his life story had both challenged and inspired me.
I remember him repeatedly reminding us that life is good, that life is beautiful. He was speaking from years of experience, and his words had given me a spark of light to hold on to. I know that my journey into medicine will at times take me down paths where I cannot easily see the sunlight, and I will need those sparks to help light the way.
Life is beautiful.
One by one, as we stood in the windowed hall, we were handed our white coats to drape over our arms while waiting for the ceremony to begin. I unfolded my coat, watching as the letters forming my name fell into line. They were embroidered in cardinal-colored thread and stood up slightly from the surface of the crisp fabric, as if embossed in wax.
Perhaps, in a way, they are sealing my place in the medical field.
A hush fell over us as we filed into the adjacent room where family and friends waited for the White Coat ceremony to begin. My mom was among them, representing all of my family at home and a lifetime of love and support.
Thank you Dad, Mom, and everyone.
The ceremony went smoothly with just the right amount of formality. The speeches would be saved for the Stethoscope Ceremony later in the evening, so Dean Prober gave a brief but beautiful commentary on the symbolism of the white coats we were receiving.
White is the color of cleanliness, integrity and optimism, representing our role and mindset in medicine, while the full-length cut of the coats represents the equality of all health care team members.
I waited, grinning with excitement, as the classmates ahead of me were called to the front and draped with their white coats. There was something monumental about this moment—it was almost as if the mantle of responsibility was being passed from one generation of physicians to the next. Some of our E4C mentors were present, holding the coats open as we turned and slipped our arms into the white sleeves.
Dr. Salvatierra called my name. I stepped forward and handed my coat to Dr. Pompei, feeling the crispness of the fabric as its folds fell around me. In that moment, the fabric was the tangible symbol of my hopes and fears, along with my determination to realize the former and overcome the latter. It was amazing.
An hour or two later, I sat in front of the Li Ka Shing Center for the Stethoscope Ceremony as the setting sun cast angular shadows across the building walls. With the evening breeze rippling across the wide lawn, Dean Prober spoke to us about the meaning of the stethoscope. Among symbols of the medical profession, the stethoscope is associated with trustworthiness. It reflects the connection between two individuals and is a tool of relationships, requiring one to listen.
Listen with your eyes
A breath can be everything
And silence can speak
The sun was still warm on my face as Dean Prober called my name and I climbed the steps to the stage to receive my first stethoscope. It came in a box wrapped with a band of red ribbon, and after the ceremony ended, my mom was the first to drape the stethoscope around my neck.
I am now a Stethoscopist.
Tomorrow afternoon, I will swear the Hippocratic Oath. As much as I love working with words and feeling their myriad textures and colors within my mind, I find it difficult to explain exactly how I feel when I think of this moment. There is a grave beauty about this oath, this promise to my future patients.
Some words from the modern version of this oath resonate with the lessons and reflections I gathered today, this second day of my Transition to Medical School.
“I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.”
As part of this morning’s orientation activities, I attended a talk on the use of technology in medicine, and we discussed how patients need to know that their provider is listening to them. While test results and other information in the electronic medical record are essential to patient care, it is possible to become too caught up with the “iPatient,” and I must not neglect the human connection that defines medicine.
Like an abstract painting, medicine is where lives collide and individual threads of humanity are woven together. It is where a thousand dreams and hopes and passions flow together, where reality intersects infinity. It is where hearts touch and hands embrace to celebrate, commiserate, comfort. That is why I chose this path in the first place.
“I will not be ashamed to say ‘I know not,’ nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient’s recovery.”
Earlier today, we broke into small groups with our Educators 4 CARE mentors. This is something that I have been looking forward to for a while, and I am excited about the longitudinal relationships I will form within my E4C group. CARE stands for Compassion, Advocacy, Responsibility and Empathy, and the E4C mentors model these characteristics and help cultivate them in their students throughout the course of medical school.
I am fortunate to have Dr. Peter Pompei as my E4C mentor and several great classmates as my E4C family. As each E4C group is represented by a tree, I am now officially a member of the pear tree, our group’s emblem.
Although it may still be hard, I will no longer be ashamed to say “I know not” because it is no longer about me and how comfortable I feel. As was emphasized throughout today’s orientation talks, things are starting to shift. Things are different now.
I am now a medical student.
And tomorrow I will take the oath.
August 21, 2013
Today has been a day of beginnings.
This morning, I woke up to a backpack still stuffed with camping gear from our awesome SWEAT trip. I spent part of the pre-noon hours unpacking and cleaning up, sore but exhilarated from nearly sixteen miles of hiking in King’s Canyon over the weekend. SWEAT, which stands for Stanford Wilderness Experience Active Orientation Trip, was a fantastic opportunity to get to know many of my fellow first-year classmates at Stanford as we camped and hiked in the southern Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have so much to say about this trip, but since time is short and a picture is worth a thousand words, I’ll let these photos speak for now.
This afternoon, with my unpacking finished and my portfolio in hand, I entered a windowed hall and made my way over to a familiar-looking registration table. Glancing up, I recognized the thin, opalescent waves of a sculpture hanging from the ceiling above. I had stood beneath this sculpture only a few months ago while attending Stanford’s second look weekend, but at that time, I was still walking the blurred line that divides the pre-medical and medical chapters of life. As a new admit, I was still trying to decide which medical school to attend and did not yet have one to call my own.
It was different today. Today was the beginning of Stanford’s orientation program, the Transition to Medical School.
Today, along with all of my classmates, I call Stanford School of Medicine my home.