Death is a part of medicine, a fact that most practitioners know all too well. The hard-earned calluses that grow out of viewing death through both a clinical and academic lens are necessary for those that have to spend so much time with it. Afterall, how else could one continue to perform such a job without some emotional barriers to protect their wellbeing? Even as a medical student, I find myself more and more desensitized to the ideas of death and loss. However, these past few months I was given a reminder of the real human emotions that encompass these topics.
This past April, my cousin lost her oldest son to juvenile myelomonocytic leukemia at the age of 8. Having been diagnosed 5 years prior we were all aware that this day would most likely come, but having all that time served as a double-edged sword. While my cousin and her family were able to spend those extra years with him (a gift I’m sure they don’t regret), they also had a front row seat to his gradual decline. As a new parent myself, it was jarring to see a child both playing superheroes in the backyard and coming to grips with his own mortality on a daily basis. But that was his reality, which he faced with a bravery and grace beyond his years.
When he passed, I found myself experiencing a variety of emotions. Whether through the perspective of a parent, a family member, or a simple observer these emotions were real, deep, and demanded to be felt. In many ways, I feel that these painful emotions ground us in the human experience. I don’t know what my relationship to death and loss will be in the future as I continue my journey in medicine, but for the time being I am content knowing that they still draw such a response from me.
Perhaps these 2 short poems and 10 haikus will remind you of your own brushes with death and loss. They are inspired by my feelings, thoughts, and observations surrounding the end of a young, wonderful life which drew emotions out of me that deserve to be felt.
i remember the boy who ran
who endlessly explored
and made the world his playground
but i also remember the boy who withered
who wasted away
as his world became a prison
and i can no longer separate the two
with the end in sight
how long can you swim upstream
before your strength fails
your coming changed us
it marked before and after
so will your absence
to conceive of death
is too much for a young mind
having not yet lived
while you needed me
what was less clear to me then
is that i need you
i can’t comprehend
looking out at the unknown
ahead of schedule
life was never fair
because some are born on hills
and others in holes
as the end draws close
when is it time to let go
and how will we know
hope is last tested
asking for a miracle
that you know won’t come
and if nothing else
you weren’t alone at the end
grieve for those that are
the pain born in loss
must be our burden to bear
while they are set free
every match burns out eventually
some more quickly than others
but i promise that when your flame goes out
i will remember the warmth that it carried
i will need it then
Brady Anderson is a medical student at the University of Arizona College of Medicine-Phoenix, class of 2025. He loves writing and enjoys the outlet it offers, both intellectually and emotionally. When not studying or trying put his kids to bed, he enjoys chipping away at one of the several books he's reading, exploring Arizona's deserts, and overanalyzing art and culture. He graduated from Brigham Young University in 2020 with a BS in Psychology. Feel free to reach him at bradyanderson@arizona.edu.