«Window Over Medina Alex Kranc, College of Medicine Mi Hermana a Sus Veintiún Años de Edad, Oil on canvas Christian Hicks, College of Medicine ...»
Window Over Medina
Alex Kranc, College of Medicine
Mi Hermana a Sus Veintiún Años de Edad, Oil on canvas
Christian Hicks, College of Medicine
Olivia MaDan, College of Medicine
Alex Clarke, College of Medicine
Ted James, College of Medicine
Julie Teuber, College of Medicine
Andy Toussaint, College of Medicine
Mithu Maheswaranathan, College of Medicine
Joseph Kavolus, College of Graduate Studies
Ashley Nicole Smith, College of Medicine
Zachary Prudowsky, College of Medicine
Designed and Printed by:
Preface Humanitas functions as a means for expression and reflection for the MUSC community. We seek to share, inspire, and delight you with the heartfelt works from the person you study next to, say hello in passing, and consult when in need.
This year, we received many wonderful submissions, all of which were reviewed by the Humanitas board. We have tried to select a representation of all the thought provoking and original submissions from this year, since we could not publish them all. Thank you for your generous submissions- our journal could not be possible without them.
Each year, we try to recognize three outstanding submissions in each medium. Congratulations to the following:
Prose They didn’t know. Diann M. Krywko Photography Dahlia Hope Friar Visual Art Cathartic Moment Shalika Whig Our journal depends on the assistance from our Humanitas Committee, particularly Dr. Steven Kubalak and Dr.
Edward Krug, as well as the support from the MUSC Presidential and Provost office.
“The annual publication of Humanitas is a time-honored tradition at the Medical University of South Carolina.
With each new edition, we are reminded that the students, faculty and staff on our campus are not only talented in health care studies, research and clinical care – they are also gifted writers, artists, and photographers. As we celebrate the creativity of these individuals, we hope to nurture a broader environment at the University in which science and art are both valued and seen as mutually reinforcing. May you find inspiration in the works that follow, and may our work together be ennobled by the spirit and passion of the artists among us.” Dr. Raymond S. Greenberg, President “Humanitas reminds us that much of the essence of MUSC life is interwoven with the arts and humanities. It is a jewel through which students, faculty, and staff present creative expression to enrich our community. I extend deep admiration and appreciation for their contributions.” Dr. Mark S. Sothmann, Vice President for Academic Affairs and Provost Thank you for taking the time to enjoy the work of your colleagues.
Olivia MaDan Editor-in-Chief 2012-2013 Table of Contents
Calm of the Wild Horses- David B. Williams, College of Medicine
Inside of Cover:
Window over Medina- Alex Kranc, College of Medicine Mi Hermana a Sus Veintiún Años de Edad, Oil on canvas- Christian Hicks, College of Medicine....................... 1
Inside of Back Cover:
Manarola- Alex Kranc, College of Medicine Back Cover: Inner ear Deiters’ cells Chandrakala Puligilla, Department of Pathology Vaqueros Allan Sharpe, College of Medicine
For Dana Aimee Strohecker, Department of Nursing Informatics This couldn’t be happening.
Not to us.
Not to my family.
This happens to people on morning talk shows. Or a fluff piece on the local news. Or women’s magazines.
It hit me like the oft-quoted ton of bricks.
The verbiage a bit trite, I know but an accurate description nonetheless.
I have rolled my eyes every October when the whole world turned pink.
I’d grumble to myself that if I saw one more pink ribbon I was going to scream.
But there it was. Those two words.
Over the last several years, it’s made us all no longer embarrassed to say the word “breast.” Fewer allusions to tits or boobs or jugs. Now we were allowed to say the proper term.
All that aside, it still couldn’t be happening o us.
Not to her. Not to my sister.
Not to my best friend since the day I was born.
Not that girl.
And especially not at the age of 38.
With a husband and three small children and a household to run.
Not to this person who had never met a stranger.
Who went to church every Sunday with her brood in tow.
The one who believed so strongly.
But it was us. It was her.
And I’m as lost and afraid as I could ever imagine.
From a little lump on a Wedesday to a double-mastectomy the following Wednesday.
The week, the surgery, and looking after my nieces and nephew afterwards was a blur.
could barely see what was in front of me behind the constant flow of tears.
Next there was chemo.
She had to lose her breasts at 38, and now she would lose her health, her hair and frequently her food.
Hasn’t she been through enough?
When would this horrific train wreck finally come to a halt?
But my greatest fear, the one that was too taboo to even talk about in our family and friend’s flood of positivity.
What if I lose her?
My only sibling, my only sister. This person whose influence helped shape who I am.
The person whose mere presence made the world a better place.
What if I lose her?
It was in the library where I first saw your face.
We met on the beach or was it out on the town?
Which ever it was bring on your “case,” What matters the most is that I know you well now.
Indeed, we learned about each other very quickly.
Spending enough time together that would make most people sickly.
But I certainly didn’t mind the ample quality time Especially when I can get you things just like mine.
On our first date we looked out over the harbor.
I was on my best behavior opening every car door.
We haven’t been back there since that very day, So here is an invitation to ask you out again if I may.
We have been to many events, the number I can’t recall But I know for sure that at each we had a ball.
Another fun event is coming up quite soon Here’s a hint; you wouldn’t go to one of these in June.
We both know how to celebrate our scarce free time.
Particularly after we have been studying, bottom line.
So here is a little something that you need without a doubt, When you want to have a drink but not run out.
My dad has always told me you’ll never understand the female gender, But after dating and studying you I must say I am a contender I understand that getting to know you is only one part;
The other half is finding the key to your heart.
Mt. San Jacinto Raena Hariharan, College of Medicine A chromatic desert transformed into mountain snow, as we climbed up towards the sky.
The tram swung out and our insides rolled.
The air was iced and bitingly dry.
Snow clung to the conifer bough and frost crunched beneath our feet.
The forest was quiet with scarcely a sound, at the San Jacinto peak.
Sun glared atop the snowy boulders, while we walked along the mountain crest.
Our hot breath swirled out as the air became colder A goldenrod desert lay far below as the sun took rest.
The yellow pines were wrapped in darkness and chill stubbornly stuck to my bones.
We toed near the fire pit and ashes, relying on the technology of flint stones.
Numbness overcame, and we entered the tram.
Steal trusses kept us high over the deep ravine.
Many feet away from more common land, we descended the mountain and took in the scene.
Some see a mountain And detour around, missing a victorious summit Runner Learns Peace (for the addicted athletes and athletic addicts among us) Leah Fryml, College of Medicine ‘You must learn to bend your trials to your soul, not your soul to your trials.’ Step, stride, churn, chide.
Breathe in--out slow, again, until Heart steadies.
You adjust your pulse to your breath, not breath to pulse.
This is Stability.
Choose any word; become it.
The mind creates what you need of life-giving Space.
You drive a bridge under your body, not body over bridge This is Tranquility.
Power hard into the steep, When every fiber screams for the promised Climax.
Strength from struggle has freed you to touch one who has earned your trust.
This is Physicality.
Strong back, firm core, agile hips.
Sustainable motion is powered by a practiced Center.
Learn to mold your habits to your purpose, not purpose to habits.
This is Flexibility.
‘This is Peace.’
Radiologist Arielle VanSyckel, College of Medicine This is minimally invasive – as they say And I say it too with a trustworthy expression, and intervene with a slit and some tubing.
It’s not true though, and I know we are lying.
I see everything.
Neuronal fibers connecting inner ear sensory hair cells Chandrakala Puligilla, Department of Pathology Post-test Sunrise Sudeep Das, College of Medicine
After others ripped me open Aimee Strohecker, Departmental of Nursing Informatics After others ripped me open Or even tried to coax me open, you came.
You came, by yourself And you mattered.
And for the first time There was no ripping or pulling, or even coaxing.
Just your beautiful face and kind heart.
You told me I didn’t have to tell you anything I didn’t want to.
And you finally opened me.
Sometimes without even knowing it.
All that spilled out, like a dam bursting.
But even when I pulled away from you in fear, You never let go.
Please don’t give up on me.
Keep hold of my hand.
I am no one but yours.
They didn’t know.
Diann M. Krywko, Department of Emergency Medicine They didn’t know.
They didn’t know that they would lose their 33 year old mother that day.
They didn’t know that they would lose their 33 year old daughter that day.
They didn’t know the terms sepsis, shock, intubation, and hypoxia.
They didn’t know that the right place to die wasn’t in the emergency department.
They didn’t know the noise and chaos weren’t taking away from her care.
They didn’t know the politics in getting a bed for a vented withdrawal of care patient.
They didn’t know that I struggled with my emotions and cried outside of the curtain.
They didn’t know.
But I did.
Thoughts of a first year medical student after seeing a man die in the hospital Danny Weinberg, College of Medicine How can you or I age 22 or 25 know what it is to lie without the fire inside?
To say goodbye?
It seems so easy to use a scalpel, greasy, through skin that sheds no blood.
he lungs don’t inflate even if you wait.
Without the mess how do you address the unpleasant sight of death?
There’s no formal introduction, just instruction.
But think if you can on the sight of a man with shirt on his back and hair on his head.
Is he really not moving?
Or, are you just assuming?
Brother? Son? Father?
Now you feel you must bother to find out who he is.
What would you say to his family on the way?
There is nothing stranger than realizing the danger in every second you breathe.
Things are no longer just fine after you see death the first time.
Guiding Light, Watercolor Emily Garriott, Pharmacy Doctorate Longing for the ice, Acrylic on canvas Joseph Romagnuolo, Department of Medicine
Somewhere in a dusty stack of VHS tapes is a clip of me at three years old, leaning over my brother’s baby carrier and giddily vowing I would never, ever be mean to him. I think of this often, and then immediately remember socking him in the face in our church gym some years later. Don’t worry, the basketball court floor had a cushy surface for him to fall on, and besides, I’m sure he deserved it.
For much of my childhood and adolescence, I believed my brother had two goals in life: 1) to get me in trouble with Mom and Dad and 2) to make me late for school. At the time, I feared parental and teacher disappointment more than anything else. Now I at least have the sense to bump those horrors down on the list, not as bad as losing a loved one, but still worse than getting hit by a car and landing in the trauma bay where my classmates strip my clothes. My brother seemed to know exactly how to exploit both of my childhood fears. I’m sure his efforts were intentional.
One morning he achieved the double whammy. He was late getting ready for school as usual, and then in his unfailing incompetence, he couldn’t get the minivan door closed. In a heroic effort for punctuality, I leaped across the aisle and yanked the door closed, smashing the key lime pie he had baked for his class with my bottom. I didn’t see what the big deal was; he didn’t even like key lime pie, and I doubted his ten year old efforts would be worth tasting. But I endured a lecture from my mother that still makes me nauseous to remember.
He had other faults too, like chasing my friends and me around with Star Wars guns that shot felt discs and receiving the CD I had clearly asked for myself for Christmas.
But he also had some good little brother qualities. He went along with my plan to layer my neon bathing suits over our pajamas and don star-shaped sunglasses for a photo shoot. Day after day, he submitted to the role of pupil for hours of playing school. I still credit myself this is the reason he began kindergarten already able to read.