BY MELANIE POWER

The following piece was a part of the Writing (Clinical) section of The Auricle’s 2021 Writing and Visual Art Competition and is responding to the prompt “Where the art of medicine is loved, there is also a love of humanity.” Uttered by Hippocrates millennia ago, has this adage stood the test of time?“

the boy
cannot explain
his swelling anxiety

the need he has
to be in that room
holding her
a minute ago
a day ago
years ago
to make up for lost time

his need builds
with every step
towards her
why has it taken him so long?
to hold her
to breathe her in
to look into her blue eyes

---

the doctor
cannot hide
his welling tears

the grief he has
to see his patient
of unfaltering strength
now cachectic
of unwavering selflessness
now taking greedy breaths
into sunken cheeks

yet the beauty of it all
makes his heart ache
the record playing
the flower in her hair
her hand resting
on the head bowed
at her bedside

how he wants
to kneel there too
to clasp her hand and explain
the privilege it has been
to observe her
navigate toward death
with such grace

but it’s not about him
it’s about the boy
who stays at her bedside
day and night
watching with anxious eyes
the person he knows
is fleeting

---

an eternity passes
and the boy arrives
bursting inside he finally sees
her sitting in her chair
by the record player
as she always did
when she was well

wordlessly she opens her arms
and the boy rushes toward them
wrapping himself in them
fleetingly
achingly
breathing her in
finding home in her blue eyes

but then
his own eyes open
and the boy cannot explain
the tears that fall

---

BY MICHELLE XIN

The following piece was part of the Writing (Clinical) section of The Auricle’s 2021 Writing and Visual Art Competition and is responding to the prompt “The pursuit of knowledge is a quintessential part of medicine, but the benefits and risks sometimes balance treacherously“.

We do not know what we do not know.

Does this unsettle you?

To chase the tails of knowledge, relentlessly.

To walk the roads of answers, endlessly.

To mine the gems of truth, tirelessly.

What do we know when we know?

When we know, a door is closed.

“Unfortunately, the tests did not show what we were hoping for.”

When we know, another door is opened.

“Doctor, how long do I have left?”

We do not know.

Our work is scaffolded by ladders and stairwells – up, up and up. We work to learn more, feel more, understand more, give more. To know more; this forms the foundations of our abilities. Each step is cushioned by knowing, trying to know, or at the very least, the illusion of knowing. We are reassured by answers, by the concrete of our schemas, our evidence-based guidelines, our research. We want to know because it makes sense to know.

We know that once we know, we can synthesise and process and generate. Differentials, management plans, approaches, teaching points. We know this is important. We know that the answers to the questions we pose help us and help them. We know it is harder for us and them when they are unable to answer our questions.

For how important knowing is to us and our profession, it is incredible how fickle it all is. How fallible we are when it comes to knowing. We need to know right. We need to know well. We need to know, without being told what or how to know. We need to know, even when no one does.

Chasing knowledge can be a place of comfort, but only when we want to know, and we are willing to face the consequences that come from doing so. When our landings are blanketed by foresight and the privilege of being the one asking the questions, knowing does not seem so difficult, or surprising, or shocking.

For those at the receiving end of our interrogations, our prods, our palpations, our auscultations – they undergo these without knowing, with compliance, with blind trust. Often without knowing the outcome, emerging uncertain and waiting. They trust us to know, and to know what is best for them.

Sometimes, knowing changes everything. We know what to do. They know what to expect. They know what to do. This pushes us to ask, to seek, to test, to scan, to biopsy, to re-scan, to re-test, to find the answers, without end.

The universe knows better than to give mortals this book of answers; and yet we are tantalised by the possibility of omniscience; by the power that comes with knowing. It is bold of us to assume we know, and that we know best.

Because we do not know what is best. Let alone know what is.

We are grounded by dissonance between the biochemical results and the presentations, the holes in research and the management plans being drafted. We are bound by the preconceived, traditional notions of how things should be, and thinking we know because our predecessors seemed to know, and that is enough, right?

When you next chase the tails of knowledge, have a look at the creature whose tails you are chasing. What would you like to know? Its tails? Or itself? Or the reason for your chase?

When you next walk the roads of answers, ponder where the paths lead, and who forged these beaten tracks before yourself? Where are you headed? Why are you walking? Or running? Or running away?

When you next mine the gems of truth, consider the weight of the tools in your hands, the darkness that surrounds you, and the bright shimmers beneath. What are you looking for? What will these gems become when they are unearthed?

Find comfort in not only knowing, but also the process of doing so, and in understanding how we come to know that we want to know. 

And find solace in not knowing, for we are beautifully human when we have the courage to continue, to strive, to believe, despite not knowing.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for your honesty. I can’t expect you to know everything – you’re only human after all!”

BY MATTHEW LIM

The following piece received an honourable mention the Visual Art section of The Auricle’s 2021 Writing and Visual Art Competition and is responding to the prompt “ ‘The value of experience is not in seeing much, but in seeing wisely.‘ William Osler“

My visual piece has been influenced by the dehumanisation of patients in medicine. William Osler has also said: “It is much more important to know what sort of a patient has a disease than what sort of a disease a patient has.” My visual portrays the value of experience as the ability to take a holistic approach to medicine and personalise medical treatment by placing more emphasis upon patients’ own personal desires when deciding treatment options. This message is displayed through the depiction of faint
silhouettes of people visible within the words on the computer screen – in order to see these silhouettes, you need to “[see] wisely” rather than “[see] much” (if you zoom in close enough to read the words, you will not be able to see the silhouettes). The words on the screen relate to ‘the medical interview’, and choosing to see patients solely as this set of information (rather than as people) will result in dehumanisation. The large stack of books is reflective of the ease at which medical students can sometimes reduce a patient into a set of symptoms to be diagnosed, especially when studying the signs
and symptoms for a variety of medical conditions.