Burnout

OLIVIA LIU UMKC MEDICAL STUDENT

Collage showing burnout. At center, an angry cartoon flame on top of a September calendar with coffee spilling out. To the right, a melting clock and to the left, a computer screen with, "When is it enough?" Behind each element, is the word "BURN."
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Time, just like fire, waits for no one. It ticks incessantly while we endlessly work to catch up to it. Thus, “Burnout” portrays a wildfire that consumes our physical and emotional well-being. As medical students, the “again” button on Anki seems more like a threat of failure in the race against time, rather than a chance to learn and solidify our knowledge. This piece serves as a reminder that we as medical students all face this fire within, and ignoring it could doom us if we don’t acknowledge it.

Gifted

ANN ABBOT, M.D. UNIVERSITY HEALTH RESIDENT

Motionless, We opened your eyes, and held your head. We poured cold water in your ears. We watched the rise of your chest cease as we unplugged your mechanical life-source. We walked with you on your final journey, To offer up the greatest gift of the season. A liver to someone’s dad. A kidney to someone’s friend. In death, you gave life. In sorrow, we gave hope.

Where I'm From

ANYA KUMAR UMKC MEDICAL STUDENT

I am from walking home from school with popsicles in hand From halva and chai, and Shakespeare’s and Capri Sun I’m from humid air and freshly mown grass From children laughing and the Kona Ice truck jingle From making mud pies in the ditch in the neighbor’s backyard and running through sprinklers I am from putting on musicals in the living room and blasting Taylor Swift music From pointe shoes and costume fittings From early morning practices and adrenaline rushes while taking the stage I am from an inseparable, loving family and birthday parties filled with giggles and nostalgia From ‘meanie-head’ and ‘I love you’ I am from home.

Growing Pains

MAULI PATEL UMKC MEDICAL STUDENT

i used to dream of being someone - being something - and now i find myself settling for being no one and nothing, for a cold mediocrity that sinks into my bones like claws digging into my skin. painful, but dull from experience. i grab onto vestiges of stories that slip from my grasp as quickly as they fall into my lap, i lull myself to sleep with promises of worlds that do not exist. i practice loving the humdrum of domestic life, etching the words “it is enough to be something to someone” into my skin, the letters rough from lack of practice and crossed out in some places, from when childish protests win against my better sensibilities. i slowly rip myself apart at the seams and bury parts in the sand, where the ocean can wash it away forever. “you can still be yourself without the adventure, within what this life can offer you”, except i can’t, and even the most lackluster of stars are resigned to end as sorrowful blackened vortexes, unable to escape the fate that has followed them since a birth full of promises.

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