Manar Mohammad is a pediatric resident.
In my third week of residency, I gave out my first sticker.
My medical assistant opened the drawer and revealed the rolls of stickers, asking me to choose for my patient, who waited behind the door I just closed, their smile joining all the other little smiles that filled this room before and would continue to fill after.
The mind took me years back to little feet in pink and white flowery …
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I slip through the slightly cracked door.
“Knock, knock,” I say, but mom is hidden under the blankets, resting while there are so many of us to take over for her for a tiny bit. In the darkness, I make my way to the crib, where a crack of sunlight peers through from the slightly opened blinds and shines onto the little one. She’s breathing, with some difficulty, but breathing. Oxygen …
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I watched the young woman across from me wrap the soft stretch of fabric around her face. She folded a part of it that hung close to her ears and loosened it slightly, put her fingers slowly under the fabric and experimented with how much room there was. Would a stethoscope earpiece fit through each side easily? She unwrapped it again. Repeated the same finger test.
She had chosen a light …
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