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Colette Charles ~

I was a second-year resident, doing a twenty-four-hour shift on maternity care. I'd spent some arduous nights on call with my attending physician, Dr. Campbell; now we sat at the nursing station, joking about what this one might bring.

"You must be a black cloud," she teased, accusing me of being one of those unfortunate residents who seem to attract medical emergencies. I laughingly protested, but in fact these quiet nights worried me. I felt on edge, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Finally the emergency department called to say that a possibly laboring mom was on her way up. We got her name, which was Cecilia, and I feverishly dug out her chart.

When Cecilia was wheeled into the labor room, she was smiling, and the man beside her--her husband, Harvey--also seemed at ease. I studied her face and demeanor, wondering whether she would deliver tonight or be signed out to the incoming resident tomorrow morning.

Patricia Williams ~

If one more person tells me to be sure to take care of myself, I'm going to bury my face in a pillow and scream.

"Go for a walk, take a vacation," they advise. I know they're trying to help, but really? Giving me one more thing to do? Oh well, they're just doing the best they can.

I moved my folks across the country, from Florida to Washington State, and into an apartment near me so that I could care for them in what seemed to be their final months. My brother, who'd been looking after them, was leaving to get married, and we didn't think they were safe on their own.

They'd always been fiercely independent, but at almost eighty, with minimal financial or supportive resources, they were struggling with declining health. My father had suddenly lost most of his eyesight and suffered from serious cardiac conditions; my mother was bedridden due to deteriorating joints and alcohol abuse.

Amulya Iyer ~

The professors,
they teach us
the types of diuretics,
their effects on the tubules--
convoluted or not.
They tell us to check
for pitting edema,
and grade it to see
how bad it has gotten.

But who teaches
the student
to kneel by the woman,
her legs swollen,
her heart failing in her chest--
to slip off old shoes,
roll down damp socks,
and touch her feet
as if asking
to be blessed?