It was in my eighth week of clinical learning that I witnessed my first death. The inevitable day in my career in medicine arrived early. A moment that I hadn’t thought much about prior to it happening. I assumed that because I was a medical student I would be able to brush it aside.
This Wednesday morning started like any other day on the general medical unit as a final year medical student. I looked through the ward list, and noticed that Mary, a patient who I have been closely monitoring over the past three days, was no longer on the list. I was hit briefly by a moment of disbelief. Fearing the worst, I proceeded to ask my registrar, who was on his usual routine of checking bloods prior to the ward round. He turned around from his office chair and calmly mentioned that Mary had passed away in the early hours of this morning.
‘This land, this red land, is us; and the flood years and the dust years and the drought years are us’– John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
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‘Grace!’ calls a voice from across the crowded living room, filled with the collective laughter of the guests, ‘Grace, come and bring the grapes over here!’ In the corner, a young woman obligingly plucks a bunch from the numerous displays adorning the room. ‘That’s my daughter, Grace, the town beauty to be sure!’ the proud gentleman whispers to the young man beside him. ‘ As smooth and rosy as the grapes we grow here on the block! Here, try some!’.
The Auricle 