The first time I saw a patient die

By Aaron Kovacs

The first time I ever saw a patient die was just over two years ago, only a month or two into my first clinical placement as a third year medical student. She was an older lady, maybe in her mid sixties, with advanced uterine cancer. The resident and I found her lying on top of her bed, eyes wide and fixed in place, her body rigid as concrete.

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Sharing the Burden

By Grace Scolyer & Alannah Murray

How to Speak

When I first noticed that my brain wasn’t working the way it used to, it wasn’t tragically melancholic like I expected. Addressing, admitting, and conveying my depressed thoughts was embarrassing, confusing, strange, and disorientating. More than anything though, it was just plain awkward explaining what was going on — but I knew it was time to let someone else share the burden, because I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t.

Since then, I’ve had plenty of strange, vulnerable, and poorly-segued conversations with my friends, family, and doctors, trying to explain the messy parts of my brain. Here’s what I have learnt.

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The (Great) Unknown

By Rose Brazilek

Watching the trepidatious first year medical students enter the hallowed halls of building 15 for the first time, it is hard not to get swept up by their wide-eyed enthusiasm and innocent optimism. Phrases such as “I’m definitely going to attend all the meetings of the Disney club” and “I don’t need to pre-read any lectures,” are often heard, phrases they may regret uttering so freely six months from now. However, it was not so long ago that many of us also opened a medical textbook, encountered a cadaver or calculated the exact time until an assignment could be re-submitted on Turnitin for the first time either.

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