tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7018889399171683782024-02-20T13:14:33.450-08:00RevisionsDo I dare disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
- T.S. EliotLorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-86532363243725837442013-02-03T17:20:00.001-08:002013-02-03T17:20:56.113-08:00Neurons (1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know now that neurons are stars, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Forming galaxies held together by arms reaching<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Longing projections, drag themselves<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through mud, mire, and swamp <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until they touch, afraid to be alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still do not know what secrets they share<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In flashes of light, almost language. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will never know how they must feel, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unable to be alone, forever nested,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will never know how it feels,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To never have to be alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-18968559302449422562013-01-26T00:43:00.000-08:002013-01-26T00:45:38.079-08:00Requiem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Isolated notes seep in between
the songs,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Discordant sounds go first un-listened
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Until the tempo slows, volume
rising<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Drowns out uplifting melody,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Beats a lonely dirge into heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Small things brought happiness,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Speckled leaves graced the
ground,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The word was new again, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">New words quickened laughter,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tones resonated more child-like,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Even bitter chocolate was
cheerful sugar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I wait day and week and month,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">No one plays redemption. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-2436680358490587652013-01-26T00:18:00.002-08:002013-01-26T00:18:52.198-08:00Nameless<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
A young man wanders the world;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He loses his name in wonders, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dissolved in warm oceans of bright fish,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dispersed by crystal winds on cold mountaintops,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He scatters the letters undaunted. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All things seem gold and glitter,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Captivating angles of the prism reflect life, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time brews even coffee into lethargy,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Distills even water from stone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The world goes grey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, all sounds became silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trees black and white,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Moon without a face,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A laughing maudlin beyond our sphere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young man walked the world,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cold earth between toes,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slime creeping up the back of his sole,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Untouchable-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still he stayed clean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He speaks to those around him, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loses touch, tries to remember,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Asks for whispers of his name, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None know him,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He is a particle unbound,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A snowflake drifting almost melts,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A tree with dead roots waits to fall into shadow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At last, he comes to an old man,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With a beard as white as his dead eyes, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eyes grayed by too much sight,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And he asks again for his name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The old man stares, sees nothing,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And says, son, your name fell here,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Drenched in memory, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I keep it in my heart beat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tell me, he begs,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The old man keeps staring,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unseeing and unbreathing, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For he too had died.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-70083284234178300092013-01-25T23:50:00.002-08:002013-01-25T23:50:24.860-08:00Killing My Wife<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
A sorrow consumes me, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I seek to rid myself of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like dependents need insulin, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tight wound strands finger forward<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To lock in place and be complete, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slowly, activate, no half-truths, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No remorse. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sit here, look at white tiles,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the hospital kills my wife.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unborn but bred, disdain the words<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And tell of needs, individual, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unheard. The woman gets no substance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ignored, the nightmare starts again, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only after I awake. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-30841944313256406202013-01-25T23:46:00.002-08:002013-01-25T23:46:38.416-08:00Into the Dark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>These tunnels go far.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Around in lightless sea,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
I dreamt of swimming,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Silent waters drifting over me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>We could take them.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
He wanted to see<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
Vast ways of the underdark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; tab-stops: 127.5pt;">
He wanted to be <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
Where stars cease to gleam.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Let’s keep going. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would you dare?<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-82074480935946960082012-06-28T01:05:00.001-07:002012-06-28T01:06:02.325-07:00ListeningI listen to the poetry of Brooklyn and Queens.<br />
Today, I listened every intently to colors,<br />
Yellow, black, brown, red, white, and the un-quantified variations in between—<br />
To language and sayings for telling of the worlds,<br />
Each people a local people, <br />
Every person a version different of his own people.<br />
I am diversity, he/she/you/it is diversity, confluent and collusive,<br />
New York, the city,<br />
Mine and ours, inclusive, definite and conclusive.<br />
<br />
The grass is soft and slowly seeping. <br />
The dampness of a fertile ground, irradiated even as it was,<br />
Into the folds on my jeans, cold chilling,<br />
Like an impotent sperm bank, broken,<br />
Uncomfortable. Awaiting and awakening<br />
I listened, soft words, softer breeze,<br />
Light sprinkling in the spout of a passing boat, <br />
Springing. I keep alert, vigilant, <br />
Poetry beguiles and bewitches the mind,<br />
Numbs the fires and feelings of the outer body, even hunger,<br />
Even anger! Even sleep,<br />
Into the dream of the stories we told and heard in too many words,<br />
Too many marks of punctuation, too much of a pause.<br />
<br />
I forget to forget. <br />
My mind opened, like a broken vessel,<br />
A shattered dam, spilling<br />
The life that wants to be lived.<br />
I remembered every noun and matching verb,<br />
Simple sentences only, two words divided by a line,<br />
For action is poetry, immediate instrument: <br />
Poems do,<br />
poems make, <br />
poems write.<br />Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-43219747556515371592012-06-26T21:37:00.001-07:002012-06-26T21:37:45.515-07:00Final Separation (1)This is my response to her poem, about us- that us which has become I and, unconnected and ever more distant, she.<br />
<br />
I do not and did not and might not ever<br />
Believe in fore-sight, defined:<br />
Prediction of predilection, satisfaction in knowing the future.<br />
You could have been the girl, right here—<br />
Who was I to presume,<br />
Who were you to assume?<br />
Just know the following fact:<br />
I have counted;<br />
Your place was significantly greater than last. <br />
<br />
All I never asked for:<br />
Your patience and patency,<br />
Trust and tranquility,<br />
Confidence and cooperation.<br />
Love might have made it work,<br />
If only you knew, not that I did,<br />
That love should go beyond us, <br />
Self-less, take-less, care-less,<br />
Care-free.<br />
<br />
I can’t say I didn’t miss you, sometimes don’t miss you, but we are destined for distance. <br />Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-32152215969623762162011-11-30T21:25:00.000-08:002011-11-30T21:25:05.077-08:00Leaving Home (Prose Poem?)He hears little except the light chirping of the birds, the dulled protest of cicadas, and the awakening of the grass as the sun rises. But in his head, there are voices and suggestions enough. <br />
<br />
Opening his door with an experienced grasp of hand, he steps from the emptiness of his room to the cluttered space of the home. No one is awake yet. <br />
<br />
He grabs his backpack, not much to take, and walks towards the back door.<br />
<br />
Outside, he squints in the brightness; maybe it will be a hot day here, and his father has surprised him once again. The man is standing there, a straight back and neck. As his father turns around, their eyes align. <br />
<br />
No words are spoken. The man removes a large gold ring with a black stone in the center and hands it to him; as he wears it, he notices that it is heavier than it looks with edges smoothed by the passage of time.<br />
<br />
He reaches forwards and hugs his father and stops breathing to hear him breathe. <br />
After a few moments, he walks away. But then he stops after a few breaths to turn back and look at the man he might one day become. He hears no breaths.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-89918543691416556952011-08-15T10:42:00.000-07:002011-08-15T10:42:52.007-07:00The Scientist (I)It mocks me,<br />
Eyes colder than liquid nitrogen,<br />
Nothing left kindled in its stare;<br />
I grow tired of standing on the shoulders of men <br />
Who turned out to be dwarfs and not giants,<br />
On tiptoes, buoyed by significant correlations, <br />
I turn a sharp monotone of phrase <br />
But cannot reach, cannot breach at<br />
All, just to see the face of the one <br />
Who brings me no peace,<br />
Just pieces and particles that bear no names,<br />
The type of work that drives on me,<br />
Inspires madness and sadness and laughter,<br />
The sound of spinning and grinding<br />
And cutting and binding<br />
Me. <br />
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-11570012738861101592011-08-15T10:41:00.000-07:002011-08-15T10:41:22.336-07:00Cell CultureAn unspecified suspension<br />
(Pink, sometimes sallow)<br />
Always elicits his attention<br />
(Strident, never shallow)<br />
<br />
A conical kind of life <br />
(Sustained quality, not size)<br />
Passages between his eyes<br />
(Downward bent and filtered)<br />
<br />
We can’t see them, he says, <br />
I believe they are there. <br />
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-7055608023775897262011-08-15T10:39:00.001-07:002011-08-15T10:39:57.436-07:00Dissection (II)Her first cut. Dull. <br />
But penetrating the skin<br />
So soft and so easily sliced<br />
The tiny elastic tendrils, the embrace.<br />
<br />
She wields the blade. Quivering<br />
Cadaver carved into skin and flesh<br />
Never again one tissue, one body, <br />
One person.<br />
<br />
Her knife fails against the yellow sheath,<br />
Webbed by blue and red, vasculature once.<br />
Beautiful work. Intimacy apparent in<br />
Her face, taut with satisfaction.<br />
<br />
She can no longer recognize him or hate him for who he was.<br />
Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-70810660317701037262011-07-28T13:04:00.000-07:002011-07-28T13:04:47.865-07:00His NightmaresHe sat at his desk and watched the setting sun turn the grass from green to orange yellow to evening shadow. Motionless seconds turned to hours to days all lost in his thoughtfulness. He sits at his desk in such darkness that he can longer see or write on the papers in front of him or even keep his eyes open. Only the piles of paper keep his head up. <br />
<br />
In his eyes, fires burn. Blue, the hottest of all flames, flows outward. He is himself the source of the burn, the arsonist, but he cannot douse or fight fire. So, it slowly consumes the house, his wife of smiling white teeth and black skin, his daughters of no significant age, and himself. Before long, nothing is left except a pile of green now worth nothing.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-68074968091008778612011-07-16T11:46:00.000-07:002011-07-16T11:47:45.551-07:00After Taking the MCATI will never hold the surgeon's knife,<br />
Because I did not find the kidneys on the abdominal wall. <br />
I will never prescribe drugs for anyone,<br />
Because I did not hydrolyze amines to carboxylic acids.<br />
I will never be a doctor.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-73526732370203272542011-07-14T17:41:00.001-07:002011-07-14T17:41:48.803-07:00Dissection (I)Her first cut is not sharp though penetrating; skin is soft and so easily sliced away from the tiny tendrils that tighten its embrace. She wields the blade with a quivering touch, carving cadaver into skin and flesh so cleanly as if they never were one tissue, one body, one person. Her knife stops once the pinkish outer layer is removed, and a yellow sheath lined through by blue and red vasculature is left. She looks at him, her handiwork. She can no longer recognize him or hate him for who he was.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-34745620914708903262011-07-13T11:55:00.000-07:002011-07-13T11:55:12.425-07:00Leaving HomeHe hears little except the light chirping of the birds, the dulled protest of cicadas, and the awakening of the grass as the sun rises. Opening the door with an experienced grasp of hand, he steps from the emptiness of his room to the quiet space of the home. No one is awake yet. He grabs his backpack, not much to take, and walks towards the back door.<br />
<br />
Outside, he squints in the brightness; maybe it will be a hot day here, and his father surprises him once again. The man is standing there, a straight back and neck. As his father turns around, their eyes align. No words are spoken. The man removes a large gold ring with a black stone in the center and hands it to him; as he wears it, he notices that it is heavier than it looks with edges smoothed by the touch of time. He reaches forwards and hugs his father and listens to the man's heart.<br />
<br />
After a few moments, he walks away. But then he stops after a few breaths to turn back and look at the man he might one day become. He hears no breaths.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-41582261975702912322011-07-13T11:24:00.000-07:002011-07-13T11:24:52.235-07:00Writing About the SelfI have always hated writing about myself which is different than writing about my experiences. When I write about my experiences, I am trying to capture moments as I saw them, as I hope you will see them. When I write about myself, I am trying to portray myself as I hope you will see me but not necessarily writing about myself as I truly might be. <br />
And perhaps, the former task of a limited personal statement is far easier than that of a true personal statement, but for once, I am publishing a personal essay, my MD/PhD application essay. Not because I am truly proud of it, but because I really have nothing to hide from anyone.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-88084875234009041012011-07-13T11:21:00.000-07:002011-07-13T11:21:30.157-07:00MD/PhD Personal StatementSome things I will never forget. I will always see the wires and pipes hooked up to my aunt as she lay there, heart open, and hear the hideous pumping of the heart-lung machine, as if driving air and blood through her heart might have brought life to her as well. I have tried to forget the look of her face that last morning, when the machines stopped and she did not wake up, but shiny anger has kept the darkness well away from those memories. On that day, men and women in white coats and blue gowns had tried to console me and my family, tried to convince us that all that could be done had been done, and tried to help me through my pain and frustration. I cried quietly to myself, each tear a promise to fight death myself, to stop anyone from ever having to experience that feeling of helplessness ever again. I promised myself that I would become a physician one day.<br />
<br />
I was just a boy then with no idea of the set of reactions and physics called physiology and no concept of medical science. Wanting to learn more about medicine as I grew up, I volunteered at the Mary Immaculate Hospital Emergency Room in Jamaica, New York, and was struck by the complexity of the medical system and medicine, encompassing not just patients, physicians, pharmaceuticals, and surgeons but also nurses, technicians, clinical aides, translators, social workers, and even business managers. Moreover, as I saw the different sides of medicine, I was humbled by the fragility of human life. Once, I witnessed a little boy of barely three being rushed in with severe trauma and bleeding. Hour after hour, the entire healthcare team fought a desperate war to save him. They ultimately failed. I will never forget how gently the attending physician cleaned the blood from the boy’s blue face with a piece of sterile gauze. Everyone had tried their absolute best, but saving a life is difficult even with knowledge, technology, and experience. In the face of such complexity, my childishness dissipated into a directed curiosity. <br />
<br />
Despite the limitations of medicine, the disciplined application of integrated scientific knowledge in medicine captivated me. As I became immersed in physics and engineering, I wondered how they applied to biology; every time I learned new biology, I considered the physical principles behind it. My research in instrumentation design and then in intervertebral disc biomechanics stimulated me with the challenge of considering both biological principles and physical constraints. I wanted to discover and invent for medicine. As I continued with interdisciplinary work in experimental electrical neuroethology, I vacillated between the possibility of a career in medicine and in science. I think engineering and physics are deeply entwined with the future of medicine. <br />
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However, I recognize that medicine is more than a science, that it is also an art. At a palliative care ward in Bethesda Hospital in Western Australia, I helped care for people with incurable conditions. Medicine could do little to heal them, and I was humbled by their appreciation of comforting words, a cup of tea, and a listener to their stories. The physician responsible for these patients seemed to derive satisfaction from spending time with them helping them feel better physically and emotionally. The patient-physician bond, a relationship of trust and empathy, was more beautiful and poetic than anything I had ever witnessed. Indeed, the power of medicine to change people’s lives and to empower them even in the face of death demonstrated to me that medicine cannot afford to have only one narrative, that of science. It is equally a human endeavor; it is compassion and kindness. <br />
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One day, I returned to the palliative care ward to see Mr. E, a patient who had spent months in a place where many came to pass peacefully and painlessly into whatever lies beyond. I had spoken to him in Spanish when I remembered the words, written letters for him to the government, and read newspapers and books to him. I had imagined that his kindness and concern might be like that of the grandfathers I had never known. On that day, he was gone, never to return; I will never the forget the emptiness of his room, vacant of his black and white photographs of Spain and his welcoming smile full of brown and broken teeth. Feelings of anger and helplessness did not accompany sadness. Instead, I also felt assured that all that could have been done had been done and felt hope that maybe one day more could be done to help people like Mr. E, like the boy in the ER, like my aunt. And, for more to be done to help them, dedicated investigators would have to first discover basic scientific principles and then translate these into medical treatments.<br />
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Having realized this, it makes perfect sense that I am fascinated with both science and medicine. I want to be a doctor who can personally care for patients and a scientist inspired by patients to seek new treatments, a true physician-scientist. I do not have to choose science or medicine but can use each other to sharpen the other. Both scientific research and medicine are indivisible aspects of one quest, the journey to health others. I seek to spend my life as an interdisciplinary clinician, a driven investigator, and a compassionate human being.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-84581328606739130822011-07-09T19:56:00.000-07:002011-07-09T19:56:18.563-07:00Coming HomeHe opens the door and he sees his father lying on the bed, eyes shut.<br />
As he picks his way across the room, he is careful not to wake his father, a man that he could never before surprise, only be surprised by.<br />
Yet, steps on the thick carpet are dull, mere whispers in silence. It is quiet and he wants nothing else but to be near his father when he awakens. How many years has he dreamed he would be home again?<br />
He stops abruptly near the edge of the bed. He hears no breaths.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-85842844877636178852011-07-09T19:51:00.000-07:002011-07-09T19:51:07.582-07:00You Ask Me - Rumi (II)You ask me,<br />
Who we are and what,<br />
How much I am in love,<br />
You ask me,<br />
How much do I love you,<br />
When and where we'll go,<br />
Above and beyond,<br />
You ask me.<br />
<br />
How do I know?<br />
How can I reconcile heart and brain,<br />
When I am just learning about the hypothalamus-pituitary axis,<br />
And cannot share this with you.<br />
<br />
You ask me.<br />
How do I know?<br />
My mouth was full of answers,<br />
Before I was seduced by love.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-88457078370941318072011-07-09T19:44:00.000-07:002011-07-09T19:44:00.059-07:00Girl Looking DownYou read music in the subway,<br />
Bars and dots that bewilder from afar;<br />
You touch the pages with such care, <br />
Remind me of the language of the blind.<br />
I wonder, if the metal clanking and crackling<br />
Add to the symphony in your head?Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-74860784715005414472011-07-09T19:40:00.000-07:002011-07-09T19:40:30.662-07:00Why Why?I'm not writing to change the world,<br />
not even to change your mind or my mind;<br />
I'm writing because the world changes me,<br />
And maybe you are changing me, my mind. <br />
<br />
I'm writing to be a drop of pigment<br />
That you name a color and apply<br />
Or not, to be a keyhole you look through,<br />
I look through, or maybe even forget.<br />
<br />
I'm not writing for you or for me,<br />
I'm writing to you, sometimes to me.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-59896644187184640582011-06-29T23:23:00.000-07:002011-06-29T23:29:28.179-07:00Response to RumiI ask you to identify me,<br />To stabilize my existence in this shaky world,<br />The wave that carries me as I lose myself in the ocean.<br />You must know.<br /><br />You are here.<br />What are you seeking?<br />We should look for that beyond what we once were,<br />Faceless, a pure light,<br />Like a free bird.<br />We fly now straight to nowhere.<br /><br />The body imprisons us, a cage.<br />Come now,<br />Before you are seduced by love.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-66362731124420175532011-06-29T23:10:00.000-07:002011-06-29T23:22:56.144-07:00Med School Application (I)Shall I say that I have climbed Mt. Everest and found a drug to end all drugs?<br /><br />No, but lies are not a physician's trade. I want to master that which is known unwavering, the anatomy, the physiology, blood, bile.<br /><br />Then, shall I say I am a leader of leaders, shaping houses with my bare hands, wiping tears away with my smile and tests with my concentration?<br /><br />No, but the truth should not be twisted. I want to ask the perfect question, contemplate the right dose, the saline line, diamond-tipped needle.<br /><br />I must say I am but a boy in a world of beasts, just a pair of eyes with a gleam, perhaps fingers that are nimble; I cannot say I am scared of the future. <br /><br />I am scared of the future.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-35310522733944322272011-04-23T17:43:00.002-07:002011-04-23T17:46:05.593-07:00Totem SongWill you leave me, you, the one?<br />You who tore down my faces and found<br />The totem, deep inside- The many-headed snake? <br />In India, he bound the heaven and earth,<br />And built the fire upon the sea, <br />For his master, his love, <br />Like your love that brought my high brow down <br />To your sweet woody earth, and I drank<br />The sweet waters of those rivers.<br />You the one, who I turned to when I feared,<br />When I love, when I saw the crimson fire lash out <br />To lay me down, out of my past to haunt me deep into the waters<br />We had bridges; but together, we swam like two dolphins under the ocean,<br />Fearing no sharks, all laid bare to our senses,<br />Each other to our sensitivities. <br />And I breathed into you as you breathed into me,<br />All the breath we shared was all the breath,<br />Finite in molecules. Us.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701888939917168378.post-7942591755634772202011-04-23T17:43:00.001-07:002011-04-23T17:43:32.992-07:00For HerYour hand enfolds mine, <br />Heat transfers quickly between us,<br />Melts away my fears and our boundaries,<br />Back and forth. <br />We are one, no different.<br />We are the confluence of heaven and earth,<br />Red twilight setting over an endless ocean. <br /><br />I press your face to my chest,<br />My heart beats after yours desperately,<br />Longingly. Inevitable like starlight<br />Twinkling that night we stood outside,<br />And nature was ours.<br />Dew collected on blades of grass,<br />Your eyes shone like the moon.<br /><br />You kiss my lips slowly and surely,<br />Time speeds up, slows down, and stops. <br />I have no breath and no words.<br />You smell like the freedom of open sky,<br />Remind me of innocence spent climbing trees,<br />Reaching for the ripest fruit, the best of all.<br />I’ve found you.Lorenzo Sewananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03941533656582393119noreply@blogger.com0