Olivia Chen. And perhaps this is the art of psychiatry: to imagine not only the past lives but the possible futures of one’s patients. It is like watching a reel of film spool out—the past unfolding with a dread you cannot look away from, knowing exactly where it leads.

Maddie Mulkern. Without hesitating, though, I rushed to the source. There I found one of my patients, sitting tense with anxiety in one of the oversized chairs in the main hallway. When I stopped at her side, she lowered her voice to a fearful hush.

Antonio Yaghy. "You see," Henry said, wincing slightly as he shifted position, "life presents us with what we need, not always what we want."

Courtney Winsie Chan. When I asked him how he was feeling, he smiled weakly, and responded with the exact opposite of what I’d expect of someone who just found out they don’t have cancer: “Not good”. 

Kayal Parthiban. He replied calmly, “You’re here because you’re in withdrawal and it’s really hard to be in withdrawal when you’re on the street.”

Marya Pulaski. As Mr. McCready slowly checked in with his swollen legs and struggled to get his wallet out of his pocket, he made one of his typical jokes: “If George Washington was checking in, do you think he could just show you a quarter?” 

Collin Leibold. She handed me the clothes, and before she left, said “when you finish your training, you come right back to Cape Cod because I want you to be our primary care doctor.”

Charlotte Walmsley. My white coat was crisp, unstained, and simply a front for medical facts written in some textbook lying on the floor next to my desk at home.

Sean Boyden. I remember the scrub tech who followed me out of the hospital on my last day of surgery, after I’d left before he had the opportunity to say goodbye, just so he could shake my hand and wish me all the best.

Meghan Reilly. When I left and asked if I could visit with him again, I was again met with a shrug, but this time, also a glimmer of a half-smile.

Dina Roche. This year many hands have reached out to grab my mine. “Thank you” says one patient. “You’re going to be a great doctor” says a second. “Am I going to be okay?” says a third

Hugh Silk. A virus has great power and its infectiousness is overwhelming us all in ways far beyond fevers, coughs, and shortness of breath. But the infectiousness of our human connection is a potent antidote.

Anonymous medical student. We both were in the corner of a hospital room, unsure of our place and why we were there.

Katherine Bakke. I have read every single article that’s probably ever been published on how to train surgeons on how to talk about end of life decisions, so I thought I should be good at it, but I’m actual terrible.

Elke Schipani. And yet the difference between my position and theirs was: “stay home” vs. “we need you.” I often thought back to the decision to take one year between graduating college and starting medical school. What if I hadn’t done that?

Disha Dalela. Never before, and that is not to say that it doesn’t happen all the time, have I realized how much braver the patients are than us.

Howard Sachs. I was so moved by the genuine and deep abiding gratitude of our patients. Even as they crashed before my eyes, all interactions ended with, ‘thank you doctor…’

Ellen Franciosi, Leanne Ondreicka, Skelly Enabulele, Cameron Thomson, Alan Xie. On March 23 through March 27, we interviewed three nurses who work at different hospitals (two in Boston, one in Worcester) and on different units (Linda: respiratory unit, Kelsey: intensive care unit (ICU), and Amanda: emergency department (ED)).

Benjamin Cook. The desire to act like you know what you’re doing and what you’re talking about is overwhelming. After all, I’m halfway through my second year of medical school, you’d think I should know something!

Pietro Mozzo. As medical practitioners, one of the traditional pillars of our profession is Primum non nocere. Yet, we have the power to do good and the power to do harm.