an itinerant observer

Ready to traverse a landscape rich with human emotion, ethical quandaries, and the quest for meaning amidst chaos? ‘ Poems from the (ER) Pit’ offers a glimpse into this world, not through clinical case studies, but through the visceral medium of poetry. Each poem illuminates diverse facets of emergency care. Through poetry I navigate the emotional, ethical, and philosophical terrains of emergency medicine. This collection, more than a series of poetic expressions, is a call to reflect, to empathize, and to act. It invites you into the heart of emergency care, challenging you to see beyond the clinical to the deeply human(e) side of healing. ******************************************************** In the dim light of dawn, a child’s battle ends, not with triumph, but with silence. This moment, captured in “C’est La Vie” is a stark reminder of emergency medicine's raw reality. The poem serves as a prelude, inviting us to confront life’s precariousness and the profound impact of...

In the grand tapestry of life, milestones are the threads that weave our unique stories together. As I reflect on a decade since bidding farewell to the hallowed halls of Baylor College of Medicine (BCM) and Texas Children's Hospital (TCH), it's not just the years gone by, but the invaluable lessons learned that make this milestone worth celebrating, six of which I list below (in no particular order). 1. A Foundation Built to Last: My journey began at BCM and TCH, where dreams took root and a passion for medicine, genetics, and pediatrics flourished. The lesson here is that a solid foundation is essential, shaping the course of an extraordinary career. In 2003, earning my PhD set the stage for the path ahead. 2. Navigating Pioneering Trajectories: Completing Pediatrics and Medical Genetics in 2008, I embarked on a journey of discovery. Winning the Thrasher Research Fund Early Career Award, my work in the department showcased the potential of translational genomics in pedi...

I have always been the kind of girl who believes in true love. When I was little, I couldn’t wait for my own “happily ever after.” Dreaming of my own wedding, binge-watching romantic movies - all that jazz. My definition of love now is different than it was when I was fifteen; or even then it was just a month ago. To me, then, love was a perfect force between two people capable of healing all the hatred and violence in the world. To me, now, love is something too great and complicated to put it into words, but I’ll try. Love is interactions. People. Places. Events. Feelings. Colors. Love is the way my Nani (grandmother) reminisces about my Nana (grandfather). Love is my Abboo’s (father’s) embrace as I cry into his shoulder. Love is strangers offering you iftaar during Ramazan . Love is smiling at yourself in the mirror when you feel radiant. Love is a mother seeing her newborn baby for the first time. We are all bound by love; we are all connected in some way. That’s what’s so ...

Prologue : The bathwater, initially clear blue, gradually takes on a pinkish hue. Like rose water … or fresh henna, that’s come off of tattooed hands and feet immersed in a bath tub. The water overflows onto the pristine white tiled floor, making it blush. Mesmerized by the changing colors, my mind unsuccessfully tries not to focus on the source of that color. Blood. That oozes out of deep slits in both forearms of a beautiful young girl. Hannah sobs quietly and sighs deeply – but refrains from screaming despite pain from incised sinew, nerves, arteries and veins. [Random thought: they say arteries and veins don’t have pain receptors … ] Hannah’s muffled groans eventually die down; so does her body as her life takes flight. And thus Hannah Baker dies at age 17. She takes her own life and she does so in an extreme manner. ****************************************************** “What if Hannah’s parents had discovered her in the bathroom a tad bit earlier? What if 911 ha...