Cimavax Medical Case

I continued to watch and listen, hearing doctors yelling for anodynes to relieve any sort of pain a patient was feeling, and residents running like animals trying to find something to ease the pain, like anesthesia. I began to get tired of all the crazy in the operating room, so I decided to head to the waiting room, where all sorts of people come trying to find answers to relieve their pain. Usually, the people who sit in the waiting room don’t have any sort of life threatening disease, even though they think they do. I sat on an open chair next to a table. On the table was a book titled, “The Book of Pathology”, with the subtitle “All You’ll Ever Need to Know About Disease”. I flipped through, and after about a minute of trying to read, I realized a book on the cause and effects of disease wasn’t the most interesting subject for a 15-year-old. I picked up a gossip magazine and decided that this was the more interesting choice of reading. Reading in awe of the breakup between Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner, I began to hear someone talking. The only person near me was a man with a puppet on his hand that was sleeping. I went back to reading, thinking nothing of it. A minute later I heard someone talking but still, the only person next to me was the man with a

As my sweaty hands lay on top of my stomach, I glanced at what seemed to be the end of the machine. The only section that was lit and in my mind, the only part of me that was safe. I had gone through this twice already, but I hadn’t made it inside the MRI machine and never thought I would.

he AIDS hospice reeked from disease and neglect. On my first day there, after an hour of "training," I met Paul, a tall, emaciated, forty-year-old AIDS victim who was recovering from a stroke that had severely affected his speech. I took him to General Hospital for a long-overdue appointment. It had been weeks since he had been outside. After waiting for two and a half hours, he was called in and then needed to wait another two hours for his prescription. Hungry, I suggested we go and get some lunch. At first Paul resisted; he didn’t want to accept the lunch offer. Estranged from his family and seemingly ignored by his friends, he wasn’t used to anyone being kind to him — even though I was only talking about a Big Mac. When it arrived, Paul took his first bite. Suddenly, his face lit up with the biggest, most radiant smile. He was on top of the world because somebody bought him a hamburger. Amazing. So little bought so much. While elated that I had literally made Paul’s day, the neglect and emotional isolation from which he suffered disgusted me. This was a harsh side of medicine I had not seen before. Right then and there, I wondered, "Do I really want to go into medicine?"

In the next stanza, the poet describes “A figure walking towards cloaked in blue/ Beeping/ Tubes/ Needles.” The poem addresses the routinely and monotonous aspect of being in the hospital for long periods of time. It is a critique of the biomedical model and how the hospital system is created where patients are tended to by multiple doctors, nurses, and allied health professionals. The patients and healthcare professionals are unable to form a relationship that consists of what Kleinman describes as “empathetic witnessing” (Kleinman). Therefore, detachment between patient and health workers is developed and established, to which the patient cannot recognize or know the people assisting them. In addition, Grealy discusses this in her earliest accounts and appointments with doctors. She states that there is a layer of “condescension” and is an “endemic in the medical

After a week working in the hospital, I went on home visits with nurses, doctors, nutritionists, psychologists and a monk. The first patient lives in a shabby wooden house. A great contrast could be seen between the room that the patient lives in and the rest of the house. “The patient is diagnosed with prostate cancer with bone metastasis. The room is specially built for him by the hospital and his family. He won’t live long.” A nurse told me. On another visit, I met a man with esophagus cancer.

There was an eerie silence as she walked down the corridor. Click clack click clack.. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the walls. She glanced out the window, the clouds were rolling in a deep black front. The trees were contorting from the wind, flashes of lightning illuminate her face. Those soft, caring eyes, and gorgeous brown hair. The epitome of perfection. She quickly pulls herself away from the window, she can't be distracted. Not now. Patient 13 had escaped and she was the only staff in. tick.. tick.. tick.. tick.. Time was running out, she had to find the patient before the storm hit. She had checked every floor except for this one; floor #2. Something seemed different about this floor to her. There was something off. There was no humming of equipment like there would normally be. Just silence. Rooms 210-224 were empty and untouched. All the sheets

“Okay sounds good.” I say and wave while I walk with the paramedic. We get in the car, and start driving down the mountain. We get to the hospital 30 minutes later, and we get in and the paramedic explains what happened, and they take me a room right away. The doctor walks in a few minutes later, and he starts asking me basic questions. Like what happened, where did it happen, whom were you with, wtc...We then walk to another room which was the x-ray room. The doctor takes a couple x-rays to see what had happened. He walks out of the little room within the x-ray room with a folder in his hand. He has a somewhat saddened, and disappointed look on his face. He walks over to me and shows me the x-rays… I look at them, and i’m not sure what i’m looking for. But i can tell it’s not

It was near the end of a clinic day when I escorted a mother and her four year old daughter to room three, laid out her chart, and put up an x-ray of a the child's knee. Once the doctor had finished with the patient in room two, walked over to the x-ray display, pointed to four small pointed bone protrusions, silently put up the x ray of her shoulder, pointed to another three then sighed. After turning to see what was probably a confused look on my face, he said a single word- tumors. I had seen several other patients with cancer; usually it was caught early, and treatment began very soon after. However, that was not the case here. I stood discreetly by the door as it was explained to the patient's mother, with the help of a translator as the doctor didn’t know Spanish and the mother English, that in order to give her daughter the best possible chance, they would have to take her four hours north of here to a hospital in San Antonio. The mother replied in a small voice that that wouldn’t be possible

When watching the characters prance across the screen, one of the first things that strikes the viewer is how childlike the patients are. Their squabbles, presided over and regulated by the mother-like figure of Nurse Ratched, are quite similar to those that occur between siblings everyday. Their fixation on trivial occurrences and objects betray an infatuation with discovery concerning their environment. In this film universe, each patient is represented the same way, a far cry from their portrayal as slightly strange individuals whose conditions render them unique as seen in the

I awoke with the sound of beeps in the distance. My eyes fluttered, eyelashes blocking my small spot of a view. In the corner, I could see my mom, her head in her hands, shaking slowly from tears. I gradually moved my head to the left. The room was bright, with white floors and bleached walls. There were multiple carts full of medical supplies right next to me. While scanning the room, I could hear my mother gasp and run out of the door. Moments later, a tall lanky guy walked into in the room. He was wearing scrubs with little stars and a light blue stethoscope was dangling from

While Cuba has endured the embargo by the United States, it has not had the access to the rapid development of medical progress. Therefore, Cuba has had to rely on internal development programs to ensure the overall health to its people. Not only could Cuba benefit from access to medical research and trade, the United States could benefit as well. William Keck wrote the following in the New England Journal of Medicine:

I found myself in another room too small for the amount of people in it. The stale smell that clung to the latex of medical equipment offered a resurfacing of bitter inconclusive memories. White coats with clipboards shined lights in my eyes and prodded at my body. They rattled off the questions that had become all too familiar to me and I recited the same lines I have been for the past 13 years...

Roy awoke in the hospital, but felt like he was still sleeping. There was a smooth feeling. He felt as though he was drifting as he glided down the halls gazing into the rooms of suffocating eggshell rooms. He felt the dry and crisp air swim down his lungs. He could see the blinking lights and the running nurses, yet he could hear nothing. He felt so oblivious as Roy made the loop back to his room. He laid into the dry starchy sheets and felt as the dust rose around him. And suddenly he began to shrink. His body rose slightly up from the bed and he felt a fleeting sensation… He looked down to see his nimble hands shrink. He flew his skin get lose and then altogether it tightened, and Roy was standing in front of the pillow. His head barely matched the tip of the pillow. And he measured only four inches tall. He stood on the mattress and made beardy a dent. This was crazy and Roy was scared. Began to how and they felt a strong, warm wind. And soon it became more powerful, until he was pushed against the mattress. He looked up and saw the vent blowing down. He moved away from its range then shimmied down the side of

Examining the deep lines etched into his already sunken face, he leaned against the sink, slowly breathing in and out. The word cancer has been ringing in his ears continuously for the past seven days, tormenting his mind until he couldn’t take it any longer. As his fist hit the mirror, shards of glass flying to the floor, he began to cave. Blood dripped down his arm, but there was no pain as nothing compares to the heaviness that his diagnosis brought. Despite multiple visits with multiple doctors, the young man found it hard to grasp the concept, hard to believe what was being told to him. In response to this, he had not let himself fully accept his diagnosis until that moment in the bathroom, the moment that he found himself

My supervisor, one of the head nurses, hurriedly pulled me to the corner of the bleach white hospital room and directed me to put on gloves, an eye mask, and a face mask. I felt as if I was preparing for war as I put on all of the required gear. The sound of expensive shoes click-clacked down the hallway indicating the arrival of two doctors who rushed into the room and shouted out orders to the staff while pulling the doors to the room shut along with the curtains. Two doctors, eight nurses, an intern, and a dying patient squeezed into the already claustrophobic ten by fifteen-foot room. The machine monitoring the patient’s vital signs continued to beep incessantly as my heart rate accelerated. Throughout my internship, I had never seen a patient in critical condition until that moment. I remembered my teacher’s advice if we were ever in a situation such as this: take a few deep breaths and sit down if you feel like you’re going to pass out. In that