Synapses Vol. 7 (2023)

SYNAPSES A Creative Journal of Chicago Medical School VOLUME 7, SPRING 2023



SYNAPSES A Creative Journal of Chicago Medical School EDITORIAL STAFF Jeffrey Bulger, PhD Editor-in-Chief Candice Kosanke Managing Editor EDITORIAL BOARD Karen Black, MD ’88 Alumna Neil Bradbury, PhD Faculty Angela Chen, CMS ’26 Student Barbara Hales, MD ’76 Alumna Julie Phelan, MD ’01 Alumna Liza Pilch, MD Faculty Hector Rasgado-Flores, PhD Faculty REVIEW BOARD Allison Cassidy Staff Noemi Cocone, CMS ’23 Student Vanessa Fan, CMS ’24 Student Anna Gomez, CMS ’24 Student Jordyn Greenbaum, CMS ’26 Student Charles Humes, CMS ’25 Student Julia Kelly, CMS ’25 Student Nareh Megerdichian, CMS ’26 Student Ayesha Mohammad, CMS ’26 Student Allison Monie, CMS ’25 Student James Nardini, CMS ’23 Student Chiemeziem DePaul Ohiri, CMS ’24 Student Max Paulus, CMS ’26 Student Sai Krupa Rajaramsiva, CMS ’25 Student Jessica Shuster, CMS ’25 Student Rebecca Silver, CMS ’26 Student Barbara Vertel, PhD Faculty JOURNAL OVERSIGHT BOARD Archana Chatterjee, MD, PhD Dean, Chicago Medical School; Vice President for Medical Affairs, Rosalind Franklin University Nutan Vaidya, MD Vice Dean for Faculty Affairs and Equity, Chicago Medical School Lisa Baer Associate Vice President of Marketing and Communications, Rosalind Franklin University Shelly Brzycki Associate Vice President for Student Affairs, Rosalind Franklin University Chad Ruback, MSEd, MBA Vice President for Institutional Advancement, Rosalind Franklin University CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 3

SYNAPSES Front cover: “Neural Pla‘stitch’city,” artwork by Monica Myers, CMS ’24 Artist’s Statement: Throughout our lives, synapses can be strengthened, weakened, and reorganized to better suit our environment, our experiences, and our choices. In other words, our synapses are unwoven and stitched back together again, almost as if they were made of yarn. I chose to use this medium to portray our brain’s synapses because of its three-dimensional nature and the metaphor that the structures and shapes that are created through crochet are impermanent. They can easily unravel and are capable of taking on completely new forms that allow individuals to function and flourish in their environment. Textiles crocheted using wool yarn. 4 ROSALIND FRANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES FROM THE EDITORIAL BOARD We are delighted to present our sixth volume of Synapses, the creative journal of the Chicago Medical School at Rosalind Franklin University. The works in this volume reflect the creativity, imagination and passion of our community. Our journal provides an avenue for creative expression through poetry, fine art, photography, fiction and non-fiction. We are releasing our journal in an environment in which the restrictive effects of COVID-19 seem to be abating. As safety restrictions continue to be lifted, we move forward with a tentative sense of optimism. We celebrate the contributions of all authors whose works bring this volume of Synapses to life. Our journal is focused on the human condition and experience in medicine and promotes connections and the sharing of information. Like the synaptic structures of the nervous system, our journal highlights the connections between the humanities and sciences, relationships between patients and their physicians, and the interaction between the readers and published artists of the journal. Submissions within this volume shed light on the unique experiences and perspectives of students, faculty, staff and a resident. The pages of the journal include the fine art of a rural setting by a faculty member, nature photography submitted by a staff member, reflections from a medical student on her touching experience with a patient in an assisted-living facility, a poem from a resident reflecting on the end of life, a non-fiction essay from a medical student on the humanity in medicine and a fiction essay about companionship submitted by a faculty member. This year, our editorial board selected Long-Distance Potentiation by a first-year medical student, Andrew Trandai, as the front cover of the journal. He used digital art to emphasize the strengthening of synapses and the persistence of human connections across physical barriers. We acknowledge the dedication of our review and oversight boards to produce another high-quality peer- reviewed volume of Synapses. We thank all artists for submitting their creative works and applaud the ones whose submissions are published in this volume of Synapses. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 5

SYNAPSES ABOUT SYNAPSES Synapses is a creative journal of Chicago Medical School at Rosalind Franklin University. The journal provides a forum for the expression and dissemination of creative works demonstrating Chicago Medical School’s commitment to develop a community of reflective learners and practitioners. The journal seeks to publish on an annual basis quality works that focus on experiences in medicine and expressions of the human condition. Submissions of creative works of poetry, art, photography, fiction and non-fiction, including narrative and reflections, to Synapses are open to faculty, staff, students, residents, fellows and alumni of Chicago Medical School. Each submission is reviewed blindly at two levels, first by reviewers followed by editors. Authors will be notified of editorial decisions. Submissions will open in mid-October and close in mid-January. The journal is published annually in the spring. To view past volumes and information about the submission process, please visit http://rfu.ms/synapses. © 2023 Rosalind Franklin University of Medicine and Science. The University has obtained permission to use the literary and artistic works that appear in this journal. The authors reserve all other copyrights for their works. All ideas and opinions expressed belong to the authors. Credit for image on back cover: iStock. 6 ROSALIND FRANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES TABLE OF CONTENTS Life and Death of a Soul Ayesha Mohammad, CMS ’26 15 18 POETRY First Light Leo Kelly, MD 24 35 Landmark T i l a k J o s h i , M D 41 50 Treasures in the Sand Sarah Syed, CMS ’26 59 60 Reminiscences of Sister Louise Lebel Mervyn Sahud, MD ’64 65 Spring Came L e o K e l l y , M D 66 69 Quitting Covid, Cautiously W i l l i a m G r e e n f i e l d , M D M1 Treading A l e x Y o o n , C M S ’ 2 6 Haiku Regarding the State of Medicine Barry H. Epstein, MD ’64 in 2023 Wishes D i m a A r b a c h , M D Approaching the Inevitable Gurvardaan Bal, CMS ’26 Neural Pla“stitch”city Monica Myers, CMS ’24 Cover FINE ART Vitiligo N a t a l i e K i e r u z e l , C M S ’ 2 4 11 Constellations in Your Exhalations Brenda Haddad, CMS ’23 14 Ethereal Traveling George Peek, CMS ’26 20 The Structure of Music Clara Gannon, CMS ’26 21 Fleeing on a Train Kuhn Hong, MD 33 A Nice Day for Tubing: Sickle and Sophia Galluccio, CMS ’26 34 Spherocytosis’ Day Out Brain MRI K a i t l y n A l l e m a n , C M S ’ 2 5 39 CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 7

SYNAPSES CT(A) Scan of Ischemic Brain Andrew Trandai, CMS ’25 42 48 Butterfly Pelvis Natalie Kieruzel, CMS ’24 64 68 Macrophage Surrounded by Bacteria Abhinav Birda, CMS ’24 78 81 Creative Spark C h r i s t i a n A r c e l o n a , C M S ’ 2 6 82 84 Sex on the Brain Neil Bradbury, PhD Free at Last K u h n H o n g , M D Weavers for Care Archana Chatterjee, MD, PhD Untitled A b h i n a v A g n a n i , C M S ’ 2 6 Being M e l i s s a C h e n , M D 12 18 PHOTOGRAPHY Glacier National Park H e n r y S a c k i n , P h D 19 23 Blues of the Sky Nicolo Antonio Villasis, CMS ’26 24 The Longest Total Lunar Eclipse Mirek Dundr, PhD 25 in the Last 33 Years 26 28 Possibility M e l i s s a C h e n , M D 36 37 Derealization G a r y W u , M D , R ’ 2 4 38 The Grand Scheme of Things Qais Dihan, CMS ’24 Minnehaha Regional Park Sophia Yang, CMS ’23 Summer Sunset Aisha Ahmed, CMS ’24 Autumn Sun M i r e k D u n d r , P h D Memories H o l l y H u n s b e r g e r , P h D 8 ROSALIND FRANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES Nature’s Beauty M i r e k D u n d r , P h D 49 53 Serenity M e l i s s a C h e n , M D 56 57 Pyramid L a u r a L i , C M S ’ 2 5 58 61 Is a Spider Web a Work of Art? Mirek Dundr, PhD 67 70 Around the World Abdulaziz Ahmed, CMS ’24 72 73 M3s Hanging On Qais Dihan, CMS ’24 77 79 As Below So Above Connor Haszto, CMS ’23 83 85 Don’t Wait for Me Terrance Zhang, CMS ’26 86 We Walked Together Michael Mittelmann, MD ’57 Final Stretch of Light Naosuke Yamaguchi, CMS ’26 Connections S o p h i a Y a n g , C M S ’ 2 3 Merge Mosaic H o l l y H u n s b e r g e r , P h D The Little Library A n s h u l T y a g i , C M S ’ 2 6 Wilderness in Black and White Jing Hsu, CMS ’26 The Winding Road Ahead Qais Dihan, CMS ’24 A Continuation of “Soldier’s Home” Luke Davis, CMS ’25 44 51 FICTION Untitled N a t a l i a C h a l u p c z a k , C M S ’ 2 6 74 The Unlikely Friendship Alexander Ellyin, CMS ’25 CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 9

SYNAPSES A Painful Wake-Up Call Steven Zhou, CMS ’24 16 22 NON-FICTION My Toothbrush Wants to Email Me: Rishabh Arvikar, CMS ’26 Speaking to the Inanity of Today 29 40 Healthcare in War-Torn Yemen Kwan Kew Lai, MD ’79 52 Marvin, the Military, and Medical William Greenfield, MD 54 School 62 Serendipity E r i c H a n d l e r , M D ’ 7 6 , M P H 80 When Uncertain, Do — When Neal Kaufman, MD ’75, MPH Uncertain, Don’t? Untitled N e h a B a s t i , C M S ’ 2 5 Why Do You Do It? Paul J. Kiell, MD ’56 10 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES NATALIE KIERUZEL, CMS ’24 Vitiligo Artist’s Statement: Vitiligo is a chronic autoimmune disorder involving the destruction of melanocytes, causing patches of skin to lose pigment. I wanted to make a portrait of a person with this disorder to practice medical illustration and highlight the beauty in the imperfections of this skin disorder. Wa t e r c o l o r. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 11

SYNAPSES ME L ISSA CH E N, MD, FACULTY Being 12 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES Artist’s Statement: “Paradise is not a place; it is a state of consciousness.” — Sri Chinmoy Corolla, North Carolina. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 13

SYNAPSES BRENDA HADDAD, CMS ’26 Constellations in Your Exhalations Artist’s Statement: It is a common theme for flowers in art to replace tools of violence when it comes to pieces conveying contemporary issues within the Middle East. I chose to have flowers blooming from the mouthpiece of the hookah to represent the need to reflect on the harm caused by the deeply ingrained act of smoking within this cultural community. The smoke coming out of the individual’s mouth appears to be constellations. This choice was to convey the viewpoint that with each hit of smoke, the person loses the endless possibilities of life as they increase their risk for cancer. Many of our youth start smoking early in life, so I wanted to incorporate that idea. My hope is to have people start discussing what influence culture has on risk habits for lung and other forms of cancer. Digital art Using OneNote. 14 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES AY E S H A M O H A M M A D, C M S ’ 2 6 Life and Death of a Soul Did you know? They cut open other people to see what’s on the inside. I did it for the first time last year. They covered her face and her hands and it became easier to put a blade to her skin. This is a herniation, they tell me, hands around intestines. That is the heart—dried blood trapped inside, stilled in death. And where, I ask, is her soul? The room is still when I am alone with her. I look behind the stomach, naming the spaces they taught me. My spaces, I imagine, are filled with words that writhe and stretch and tear until expressed. There is nothing moving inside her. My head touches the prayer mat. There are so many unrecognizable words on the list of terms they gave me to learn. Soul is not on my list. I woke up choking this morning. There was something in my mouth that I could not swallow. Now pulsing in my veins, then whooshing through my lungs— I scribbled it out, in agony, barely conscious. Did you know? The soul speaks in poems using words collected from inside you that no one else can see. Life demands expression—write! ■ CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 15

SYNAPSES STEVEN ZHOU, CMS ’24 A Painful Wake-Up Call There was one elderly patient during my surgery rotation who I dreaded rounding on. Slightly disheveled, she had suffered from chronic abdominal pain for a few years that, according to her daughter, was debilitating. From the start of her hospital stay, she had been requesting opioids to alleviate her pain, and while my attending agreed to provide it to her, I wasn’t convinced, especially after all the lectures we had in school on the opioid epidemic. “What if she’s drug-seeking?” I thought to myself. “Is this a good idea?” After some deliberation with her family, it was decided that proceeding with a colostomy would be the best course of action to help ease her pain. Every morning after her operation, I’d brace myself before entering her room to round, praying she’d be in an amiable mood. These prayers were rarely answered. “Why the hell do you guys keep waking me up?” she snapped at me on one particularly bad day. “I’m in so much pain, but all everyone keeps doing is asking me questions!” Inevitably, she demanded more painkillers as she did to me every day, expertly listing off brand names such as Norco and Dilaudid just as she did in our first meeting. “I need to check with my attending for these decisions,” I squeaked as she writhed in agony, cussing me out in the process for my incompetence. After tiptoeing out of her room, I could hear her voice bellowing down the halls as she claimed her next victim: her physical therapist. These frequent hostile encounters with her drained me. She was not a patient who felt “heard” when I asked her to “tell me more about how you feel.” She presumably felt no consolation when I assured her she was in good hands with her medical team. Constantly complaining about her pain and inconsolably angry with everyone, my patient behaved unlike anything I had encountered with standardized patients in school. I would often overhear other medical staff making snide remarks about her outside her door, which only reinforced my anxiety walking into her room. One day as I rounded on her with my attending surgeon, she initially spewed some sharp words at us, typical of her usual persona. Suddenly, she took a deeper look at us, and burst into tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize it was you two talking to me just now.” I was flabbergasted. An apology? From her? “I know I’m being so harsh to everyone, but I’m just in so much pain I can’t even think straight,” she wailed. The following day during our regular rounds, before she opened her mouth, I could sense something different about her aura. Her characteristic grimace was gone, and she was sitting up for once, watching a video on her phone. “Good morning, doctor,” she said, calm as a millpond. She shared how she was feeling better, and that her pain was becoming more tolerable. Stunned, I left her room. She blossomed into a completely different person. What happened to the belligerent, drug-seeking patient I had met from a few weeks ago? Things only continued improving. As her morning greetings got more cheerful, I began looking forward to my morning rounds with her. No longer was she complaining about “the million people” coming in and out of her room asking her questions. On her side table, she had photos of her grandchildren displayed for all to see, and she was more than happy to talk about them to me. Then, one morning, she informed my attending that she doesn’t think she needs her pain meds anymore. “I feel so much better now. I just need to keep getting stronger for myself.” As we walked out of her room that day, I continued to hear her voice spilling into the halls. Only this time, they were echoes of joy and gratitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow, guys! Stay warm, and don’t work too hard!” My patient’s metamorphosis from an irritable, confused patient to a warm, kind-hearted grandmother made me realize the power pain has over us. Pain for this woman was not merely physiological. It polluted her entire personality to the point where her affect was unrecognizable from her original self. More importantly, her transformation was a painful wake-up call for me about how medicine can trivialize our patients’ discomfort. Throughout my initial interactions with her, I was repeatedly second-guessing her pain and 16 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES whether she truly needed as much analgesic control as we were providing her. To the entire floor of medical workers, she was considered a “difficult” patient constantly complaining to everyone who entered her room. I think back now to the lessons I learned with my school’s standardized patients. “Patients want to be heard” was a mantra I had drilled into me through every practice patient encounter and simulation I did. When interacting with her, I had felt like those lessons were useless. But as her pain dwindled and her true, genial self came through, I realized she was speaking to me loud and clear through every flinch of pain and every cry for help. I just wasn’t hearing her. As many professionals and students in the medical field can attest to, interactions with patients are not always easy nor pleasant. Our perceptions of others get jaded, and we start making judgment calls on people’s characters based on brief snapshots of time. Likewise, we forget that we are seeing people in clinics, hospital rooms, and emergency rooms, some of the last places anyone would ever want to be. We forget that they are suffering in pain, without family close-by, and scared, with a flurry of strangers poking and prodding them at odd hours. A few weeks later, I was rotating through the orthopedics clinic. My attending assigned me a “difficult” patient with chronic shoulder pain, insisting it would be a great learning experience for me. After introducing myself to the patient and settling in, I asked her what brought her in today. “My shoulder’s been hurting for months now. I need the doctor to do something for me,” she demanded. What a familiar feeling, I thought. “Tell me more about that.” ■ CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 17

SYNAPSES L E O K E L LY, M D, FAC U LT Y First Light Light comes first over the Bay, Water dark blue and sky slate gray. Then to the birches as to and fro they sway, Leaves and white branches dance and play. Next birds are dark shadows flitting by And the rest of the trees form a latticework Against the sky. As I look down the bluff with shadows receding, Now day has won over night preceding. Finally, I see the road I must take winding down the bluff above the Bay And I am thankful I have again seen the first light of another day. ■ HE NRY SACK IN, Ph D, FACULTY Glacier National Park Artist’s Statement: Sometimes our brain synapses can fool us. This is Lake Sherburne in Glacier National Park, Montana. The lake was so still, it’s hard to tell which is real and which is reflection. 18 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES NICOLO ANTONIO VILLASIS, CMS ’26 Blues of the Sky Artist’s Statement: The clear, blue sky reflecting on the glass of the skyscrapers augments the cityscape of Chicago, a good contrast to the gloomier times of the year. The intensity of the blue, and the different shades of blue reflected off of each building, evoke a feeling of serenity, a rare sensation in the middle of downtown with all its hustle and bustle. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 19

SYNAPSES GEORGE PEEK, CMS ’26 Ethereal Traveling Artist’s Statement: I enjoy removing myself from reality when I paint. Hence, the title name: ethereal traveling. I had no direction when putting this piece together. I just let my emotions flow from me onto the canvas and I traveled to areas beyond this earth. I utilized different techniques in this painting in order to create the various textures and patterns. I wanted to use the primary color s becau se t h ey re pre se n t body, em o ti o n , a n d m i n d . To g e th e r th ey b r i n g a h a r m o ny to t he viewer ’s “journey.” Acrylic paint. 20 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES CLARA GANNON, CMS ’26 The Structure of Music Artist’s Statement: There is structure behind every sound created. Charcoal drawing. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 21

SYNAPSES RISHABH ARVIKAR, CMS ’26 My Toothbrush Wants to Email Me: Speaking to the Inanity of Today The other day I purchased an Oral-B electronic toothbrush that supposedly could analyze my brushing patterns. In order to do this, I had to download an app and enter my personal information. The software was hot garbage. The brushing feedback was middling. Oral-B was now emailing me promotional materials advertising the very same toothbrush and app I was already using. The unsubscribe button always led to a 404 error. They refused to let me go. This Oral-B toothbrush was an albatross around my neck. Have you tried googling anything lately? Its horrible. Search Engine Optimization has rendered it a minefield of AI- written articles. You have to look to Reddit to find anything remotely informative now. I hate Reddit. The collective unconscious of yesterday yearned for the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. One second into the internet’s existence, the marketplace of ideas transformed into a conversation between your paranoid dealer and his 50 clones while you sit handcuffed on their couch, forced to listen for eternity. William Gibson, a pioneer in the cyberpunk future fictional space, once famously said, “The future is already here — it’s just not very evenly distributed.” I don’t care how evenly distributed the future is, I just want these Oral-B bozos to stop emailing me. ■ 22 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES MIRE K DUNDR, Ph D, FACULTY The Longest Total Lunar Eclipse in the Last 33 Years Artist’s Statement: The longest tot al lu n ar e clipse v isible f ro m n e a r l y a l l o f N o r th A m e r i c a s i n ce Au g u st 1 7, 1 9 89, occurred on November 8, 2022. A total lunar eclipse occurs when the Earth comes between the Sun and the Full Moon in a perfect lineup. The Moon gradually glides into Earth’s shadow until the entire lunar surface turns from silvery gray to an eerie dim orange or red. In contrast, during a partial lunar eclipse, only part of the moon enters Earth’s shadow, which may look like it is taking a “bite” out of the lunar surface. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 23

SYNAPSES T IL A K JOSH I, MD, FACULTY Landmark My father said: Stand tall as the tree, roots long and trunk strong. Winds will sway you. The rain will batter you. And the Sun can dry out your life sap. But stand the ground by good work, and good words. Harbor the nests and release batches of future generations. Spread out the leaves of kindness, love and hope. Create the moments of deepest insight and accurate observations. Enrich the lives you touch. Leap towards the big dreams. Shape the landscape of consciousness. And be the landmark that lasts eternity. Chicago, Millennium Park. ■ ME L ISSA CH E N, MD, FACULTY Possibility Artist’s Statement: “In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” — John Muir Joshua Tree, California. 24 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES GARY WU, MD, RESIDENT Derealization Artist’s Statement: This was the breathtaking moment I hiked all day for. I was there in awe – captivated by the natural beauty around me and wondering how everything just naturally falls into place. Never thought I would be sitting next to a rock observing the world below. Go figure! CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 25

SYNAPSES QAIS DIHAN, CMS ’24 The Grand Scheme of Things 26 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES Artist’s Statement: Sometimes we need to zoom out to realize... it’s probably miniscule in the grand scheme of things. Valley of Fire, Nevada. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 27

SYNAPSES S O P H I A YA N G , C M S ’ 2 3 Minnehaha Regional Park Artist’s Statement: While hiking along a trail, I stumbled upon a frozen waterfall. The stillness and grandeur of the ephemeral sculpture struck me, and I took some time to stop and appreciate nature’s powerful and creative presence. Minnehaha Regional Park, Fall 2022. 28 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES KWAN KEW LAI, MD ’79 Healthcare in War-Torn Yemen: First-Hand Experience Yemen, one of the Arab world’s poorest countries, has been devastated by an eight-year civil war that exacerbates its widespread poverty and accelerates the collapse of public institutions, including the health sector. Less than half of its already fragile health facilities are functioning, and access to healthcare is severely limited with critical shortages of medicines, equipment, and medical staff. It has the world’s largest humanitarian crisis, with 24.1 million people in need, and about 10 million of them on the brink of starvation, especially in the Houthis- controlled northern heartland of Saada province and the neighboring areas. Just before the COVID-19 pandemic, Military escort from Sayoun to Marib. together with a group of doctors from the US, Canada, and Europe, I volunteered with MedGlobal, a non- governmental organization (NGO) based in Chicago, and we visited two government hospitals in Yemen: Sayoun General Hospital, a 75-bed hospital in Sayoun in Hydramaut governorate, and Kara General Hospital, a 100-bed hospital in Marib in Marib governorate. To get to Kara General Hospital from Sayoun, we traveled for five hours through the desert escorted by the military, and stopped at numerous checkpoints. Our trip from Sayoun to Marib was postponed for a couple of days when missiles hit a military base in Marib, which is only 75 miles west of Sana’a, the capital of Yemen, controlled by the Houthis. Most of the healthcare workers fled Sana’a to Marib or Sayoun to work. They have adapted to the resource-limited situations, but the basic infrastructure of the hospitals needs an emergent overhaul. Our mission was to help the staff see patients in the clinics and hospitals, and to teach and transfer clinical skills to the healthcare personnel. Being an infectious disease doctor, I concentrated my efforts on infection control. These were some of the things I observed. 1. The lack of handwashing facilities, soaps, and hand sanitizers: The starkest observation was the distinct lack of sinks for handwashing. Most of the available sinks were non- functional with missing faucets and drain pipes. There were no soaps or scrubbers by the sinks. The six-bed intensive care unit in Sayoun General Hospital had only a sink in a bathroom situated in a far corner of the unit. Similarly, a single sink situated fifty feet away from the furthest patient room served a surgical ward of thirty patients. The doctor only washed his hands after he finished seeing all the patients. To walk the length of fifty to a hundred feet in between patients to perform handwashing would add more time to the ward rounds. If the hospital had access to waterless alcohol hand sanitizers, it would have solved the problem of the lack of sinks; however, such commodities were difficult to come by. After the airport in Sana’a closed to commercial flights in August 2016, deliveries of medical supplies were severely affected. In a few places such as the intensive care units or the emergency rooms, hand sanitizers somehow disappeared from the wall-mount brackets. 2. The lack of sharps containers: Sharps containers — the puncture-proof, leak-proof containers that help limit potential exposure to bloodborne CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 29

SYNAPSES The sinks in the emergency room in Sayoun Used needles in trash bin in the oncology ward in General Hospital. Marib General Hospital. pathogens by providing a safe place to dispose of used needles and other sharps — were also scarce and contaminated. Sharps were discarded in regular trash bins, exposing workers to potential needlesticks and contraction of bloodborne pathogens such as HIV, hepatitis B, and C. In the laboratory, there were sharps receptacles with no safety tops. They were lined with plastic bags and when these were full, they were thrown away with the regular trash and not treated as hazardous wastes; the sharps containers were then reused. In the oncology wards, uncapped sharps were also thrown into the regular trash. The nurses claimed they had never had any needlestick injuries but A man with open fracture of right tibia, has the they did not know if the trash collectors did. fracture reduced without pain medicines. 3. The lack of medicines: Even in the government hospitals, patients were responsible for payment of their medicines, laboratory, and diagnostic testing. Treatment care plans, including necessary surgeries, often came to an abrupt halt while relatives scrambled for the necessary funds for equipment, parts, and medicines. A young man had his tibial fracture reduced forcefully in the emergency room with no pain medication or anesthesia. The patient held the hands of a relative and his scream could be heard throughout the emergency room. The healthcare person who fixed his fracture did not observe proper hand hygiene or ensure the sterility for the procedure. 4. The lack of medical staff and supplies: One evening, a massive accident brought many casualties to the emergency room of Sayoun General Hospital. In their “organized chaos,” the healthcare workers responded admirably and appropriately to the more critically injured people. Patients were triaged and stabilization of fractures was accomplished outside the emergency room as it was already filled. Somehow X-ray and CAT scans were done. One person died despite gallant attempts to resuscitate with fluids, blood, intubation, and cardiopulmonary resuscitation. 30 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES One of the casualties of the accident was a young man who sat in the ward with a left fractured femur, with no pain medications and only intermittent intravenous fluids when a relative could afford to buy them. He was forgotten for two days by the surgical staff. When he was finally brought to their attention, he could not pay for the intramedullary rod to fix his fracture. A local NGO obtained the funds to pay for the rod. In the end, his surgery was canceled because the only rod in the operating room was missing some components. There were no other rods available after scouring the city. The visiting volunteer surgeon observed that surgical equipment was antiquated and the Yemeni surgeons made do with what was available. In February 2020, the first medical evacuation flew seven critically ill patients and their families from Yemen to Amman, Jordan to receive life-saving medical treatment. According to the United Nations, around 32,000 patients with serious illnesses signed up for the medical evacuations. When the coronavirus pandemic hit Yemen, the lockdown put a stop to humanitarian flights transporting people who needed medical help and also medical supplies and resources. Many healthcare personnel left because of the lack of personal protective equipment, and twenty percent of the country had no doctors. Yemen has 700 intensive care units and 500 ventilators. Make-shift refugee camps cropped up in the cities with tarps, plastic sheets, reeds, and branches, with NGOs offering aid at sporadic intervals. In the morning, droves of scruffy children with a sack hanging over their shoulders appeared, scavenging for food or whatever could be salvaged from the garbage dumps, competing fiercely with the stray dogs which, like the children, are victims of this long-drawn-out and forgotten war. In these days of the coronavirus pandemic, when vaccines, handwashing, social distancing, and mask-wearing are measures to slow its spread, the crowded conditions of the camps, like most of the refugee camps in the world, make controlling the pandemic in Yemen a very difficult task. In September 2020, Yemen’s Houthis suspended all United Nations and humanitarian flights to Sanaa International airport over fuel shortage, making the lack of resources even more acute. Outpatient waiting area of Sayoun General Makeshift camp for internally displaced people Hospital, Hydramaut governorate. in Marib. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 31

SYNAPSES In the days leading to our departure flight from Yemen, there was another missile attack in Marib that hit the military base. All flights out of Sayoun were canceled. For a few days, we were stranded. Eventually, a few flights to Amman, Jordan opened up; it was then a last-minute heart-racing scramble to get a seat to fly out of war-torn Yemen. We, the aid workers, were the lucky ones, able to leave a war-torn nation. But there are thousands and thousands of families in Yemen waking up every day to witness their malnourished children aged under five dying from starvation and other preventable diseases. It is estimated that this amounts to one child every ten minutes. For the Yemenis, peace cannot come quickly enough. ■ All photographs were provided by the author, who retains the copyrights to these images. Author seeing patients at Sayoun outpatient clinic. 32 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES KU HN H O NG , MD, FACULTY Fleeing on a Train Artist’s Statement: Many Ukrainian families ran for safety while Russian soldiers invaded their homeland. Some were fortunate enough to get out by train. I, myself, experienced a similar situation as a young boy in Korea. We left everything behind, running for our lives with no place to go when the North Korean Army tanks crossed the 38 Parallel Line without notice. During the Russian invasion of Ukraine, my heart sank to watch the terrible images from TV and SNS almost every d a y. Oil on canvas, 24 by 30 inches. 2022. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 33

SYNAPSES SOPHIA GALLUCCIO, CMS ’26 A Nice Day for Tubing — Sickle and Spherocytosis’ Day Out Artist’s Statement: This comic was inspired by Dr. Jack E. G aron’s red blood cell tubing metaphor, presented to us during our “Infection, Immunology, and Hematology” class. I found it made learning not only easier, but enjoyable and fun as this image was present in my mind throughout the course. Digital art. 34 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES SARAH SYED CMS ’26 Treasures in the Sand Days and nights, I spend my time Poring over slides, line by line Washing over my mind are waves Knowledge reaching its sand and caves Then water retreats back to its source Seeming to drag it all back by force I wonder about the knowledge I gained How much of it will I retain? But forever changed is the beach of my mind By treasures the water leaves behind Look to my mind and treasures I will find Carefully kept for just the right time ■ CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 35

SYNAPSES AISHA AHMED, CMS ’24 Summer Sunset Artist’s Statement: Sunsets mark the end of the day, yet they are beautiful to look at. There is beauty in endings. Taken on Nikon lite tou ch A F zoom ca m e ra u s i n g 35 m m f i l m . 36 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES MIRE K DUNDR, Ph D, FACULTY Autumn Sun Artist’s Statement: Morning sun shining through trees and colorful foliage in the fall forest on a late October day. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 37

SYNAPSES H O L LY H U N S B E R G E R , P h D, FAC U LT Y Memories Artist’s Statement: Where are memories stored? What is a memory?! The term, memory engram, was introduced by Richard Semon in 1904, but the concept of a physical memory likely originated in ancient Greece. Humans have been fascinated with the brain and memory since Plato. It turns out the Greeks were not that far off. Here, we artistically show a memory engram (shown by arrows) located in the hippocampus and cortex of a mouse brain. The green cells were activated during encoding of an experience, the magenta cells were activated during retrieval of an experience, and the overlap (bright white) represents a memory cell. These cells were necessary for encoding and retrieval. Science, like art, is beautiful. This image was stained using immunohistochemistry (green = GFP, magenta = cfos) and taken using a fluorescent Echo Revolution microscope. 38 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES K A I T LY N A L L E M A N , C M S ’ 2 5 Brain MRI Artist’s Statement: This is my rendition of one of my own scans from October, days before I received a blood patch for a spontaneous CSF leak. After suffering from debilitating symptoms leading up to this procedure and months of physical therapy, I have a newfound gratitude for each day of my life and everyone in it. Charcoal and graphite. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 39

SYNAPSES WIL L IA M G RE E NFIE LD, MD, FACULTY Marvin, the Military, and Medical School “Welcome to your first day of medical school. Now look to your left and then to your right: One of you will not be here in a year.” As low murmurs and looks of panic and consternation flooded the auditorium, the professor continued. “Just kidding! You all wouldn’t be here if you weren’t at the far end of the bell-shaped curve. The University, and society as a whole, will be making a huge investment in you as a precious finite resource, and we sure aren’t looking to waste our investment in time and finances to flunk anyone out willy nilly. Steel yourselves, work hard to achieve technical and intellectual scientific excellence, and you’ll succeed. “Now, I’ve looked at your applications and see that as a class most of you have undergraduate STEM degrees: biology, chemistry and the like. A few have come from careers in other disciplines such as engineering or psychology, or were even history or English majors. Very good for diversity. But I’ll bet none of you can top how I became a doctor.” It was May of 1943. I had just finished my senior year at Brooklyn College and was getting the sheepskin that certified me as a newly minted accountant. However, there was a war on. After each male graduate shook the dean’s hand and descended from the stage, a stern-looking man in khaki shepherded us onto a bus, which then whisked us away to the Induction Center at 39 Whitehall, Manhattan. After we were sworn into the U.S. Army we went through several hours of physical, mental, and psychological evaluations. At the end, I was called up to the front, where a master sergeant was looking at my file. “Private Marvin Schwartz!” “Yes Sir,” I responded, hazarding something like a salute. “Private Schwartz, I’m not an officer. I work for a living. You will address me as ‘Sergeant’.” “Yessir, uh, oh, yes, Sergeant.” “Private Schwartz, I have a problem. You college boys, I guess, would call it a dilemma. I have the results of all your testing. It seems you have the intelligence to be enrolled in fast track medical school for the army, but,” he paused, “you have the perfect body build to become a tail gunner in a USAAF B-17 Flying Fortress. Where should I send you?” Being an accountant, even if for less than a day, I did know something about numbers and statistics. At that time the mortality rate for bomber tail gunners was about eighty percent; it was much lower for combat medics in the European or the Pacific theaters. So, I thought, what would my dear mother back in Brooklyn want to say to the neighbors: ‘My son, the posthumous B-17 tail gunner’, or ‘My son, the Doctor?’ So, rather than giving Mom a fair chance at becoming a Gold Star Mother, I trained to become a healer on the battlefield rather than a killer in an airplane. “The rest is history, and all the rest is commentary. Welcome, Class. I wish you a long life of health and happiness in service to mankind in our honorable profession. Now, good luck, and now go out and study.” ■ 40 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES MERVYN SAHUD, MD ’64 Reminiscences of Sister Louise Lebel My heart opens up to Dear Sister Louise Did I ever thank you? Yes, I was the young physician A bit soft of heart Each time you recognized me In that vulnerable situation You were a magician reading eyes! WHAT FOLLOWED “Let’s take a walk,” you said “Feel through their heart, young man You have so much to give Show that big swath of empathy Grieve with them, for them The LORD will be with you as You give your skilled craft.” “She was lucky,” you said Low grade MDS, long arm of chromosome 5 missing “She will be your patient for many years As you use your skill to guide her.” Making adjustments to her cocktail of meds. Discussing what might be next Thank you, Sister Louise. ■ CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 41

SYNAPSES ANDREW TRANDAI, CMS ’25 CT(A) Scan of Ischemic Brain 42 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES Artist’s Statement: Much like the daily routine of Chicago commuters, journeying in and out of the Loop each workday, sensory information too is funneled through the thalamus to then radiate out via thalamocortical projections to their destinations. In CT(A) Scan of an Ischemic Brain, each stop, then, is a synapse; each line, a neuronal pathway. Parallel transit lines and transfer stations embody the idea that “cells that fire together, wire together.” By superimposing a map of the “L” — Chicago Transit Authority’s (CTA) rapid transit system — on an illustrated computerized tomography (CT) scan of the brain, this visual metaphor likens the city to our most important organ — not only in structure but also in pathology. CT scans are frequently used to determine stroke pathologies. This piece compares ischemia in the occipital lobe to the historically “redlined” South Side. “Redlining” — the practice of denying or limiting services, such as banking or insurance, to certain neighborhoods based on the racial or ethnic makeup of their residents — was prevalent in Chicago’s history. This practice disenfranchised people of color, confining them to certain parts of the city, ultimately contributing to Chicago’s reputation as one of the nation’s most segregated cities. The visual elements further emphasize the effects of “redlining”, specifically through the CTA’s southbound transit lines which include Orange, Green, and (coincidentally) Red lines. The negative space surrounding these lines emphasizes the paucity of transit options that penetrate the South Side. Additionally, the colors of these lines fade to black, likening “redlining” to necrotic or autoimmune demyelinating processes. Who decides these transit lines? What is under-resourced and why? What can physicians and the medical field do to combat structural inequities and other barriers to health? CT(A) Scan of an Ischemic Brain encourages viewers to consider the interplay between the inner workings of the brain and the outer environment. It prompts us to think more deeply about the ways in which health is influenced by environmental factors and social determinants such as access to care, access to food, and access to opportunity and how we can promote health and well-being for all members of our communities. Digital art, Adobe Illustrator and Clip Studio Paint. CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 43

SYNAPSES LUK E DAVIS, CMS ’25 A Continuation of “Soldier’s Home” The following short story is a continuation of Ernest Hemingway’s original vignette “Soldier’s Home” (http://www. somanybooks.org/eng208/SoldiersHome.pdf). A reading of Hemingway’s vignette is recommended, but not necessary, to fully appreciate this sequel. My purpose in writing this extension to Hemingway’s “Soldier’s Home” (my favorite short story) has been to highlight the ramifications of war on military veterans upon their return to civilian life. These implications included moral injury and undiagnosed/untreated psychiatric illness (particularly PTSD, which was not an understood medical condition during the post-WWI era). In keeping with the original vignette, the tone, wording, imagery, and symbolism throughout my story was chosen to reflect that of the original. ***** Krebs did not much like sports, not since the Great War. He now thought of sports as too trivial for his liking, but he would go to the baseball game for Helen. She was his favorite sister after all. As dark clouds congregated above, he would rather risk it against mother nature rather than ask his father for the car. A walk to the game would do just fine. Krebs returned to the house to snatch his raincoat from the closet and The Kansas City Star from the dining room table. A quick peak into the kitchen revealed his mother sniffling as she scrubbed the dishes. Her spotless white apron was stained by tears as she wiped them away. She would have to clean the apron again soon. Krebs thought that he should perhaps wash it for her. He did not know how to launder, however, nor did he care to learn. This entire ordeal would resolve itself over time. He knew that. Walking to the indoor baseball field, Krebs took in his surroundings. The walkway was lined with trees, all lifeless copies of one another. Flashing images from the war surged through his mind. He shook his head to forget that time at Argonne. Krebs enjoyed strolling around the neighborhood, but it allowed his mind to wander far too often. Nearing the town’s only Greek ice cream parlor, Krebs whipped open his newspaper to finish the article he had started earlier that morning. Through the window-front, Krebs caught a glimpse of a couple flappers flirting with a group of college boys. He liked their short skirts. When he went away to the war, only flappers wore clothes like that. Life was less complicated overseas than in Missouri. But Europe was all in the past now. The overcast clouds now dominated the sky, more so than when he left the house. He could feel the light drizzle turn into a steady shower as he flipped the pages of the newspaper, settling on the article entitled “Fire Drives Women and Crew to Boats as Five-Masted Schooner Burns at Bay.” The droplets started smudging the ink, making it hard for Krebs to gather details as he read further. All the women had survived the tragedy, but Krebs found it difficult to make out how many crewmen burned to death in the fire. Either three or eight men had died. Krebs looked up from his reading to see the venerable local church on his right. His childhood days at the United Methodist Church of the Resurrection came to memory. Every Sunday, he had attended church here. He would socialize with his buddies and consider God on occasion. The front cover of his Bible at home still held the signatures from his best church friends. The names lay in rows one over another. Before the war, he cherished that book because of those scribblings. As time passed, however, he found himself considering those signatures less and less. A vague recollection came to mind telling him that that Bible was now under his bed at home. He would look for it later. Outside the church steps, a young Methodist boy frantically began collecting his religious literature to go inside. He had apparently been passing out brochures to people walking by, until the drizzling began. He reacted to the droplets hitting the Methodist literature as if they were poisonous darts sent directly from the Devil. Krebs 44 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES mistakenly locked eyes with the boy. Out of duty, the youngster shuffled over to Krebs to hurriedly deliver the Good News. “Excuse me, sir. Here is some literature for you to read. It tells of the saving grace of Jesus Christ and the life- changing difference he can make for you.” Krebs apathetically grabbed the brochure and smirked, “Thanks kid.” The boy returned to his pile of brochures, picked up the literature, and began skipping up the stairs two-at-a-time to reach safety. Krebs glanced over the brochure. The message was the same he had heard sitting in the squeaky pews of the sanctuary for years. He could have easily reproduced the quaint message himself by now. He knew God could not help him anymore though. God was not with his brothers in France, nor was God with him in Missouri. Krebs felt embarrassed and resentful as always, but he did not want to feel this way. He did not like these complicated emotions. Maybe God could help someone else. He placed the literature on a bench for another passerby who could possibly believe. Krebs reopened The Star, trying again to decipher the text amidst the smudges. His attempts were soon lost to the building intensity of rain. Discarding his father’s newspaper into a crosswalk trashcan, Krebs noticed a stray grey cat sheltering itself under a storm drain. Rainwater would gather at the drain’s edge, fuse to form a single drop, and then fall onto the cat’s tail. Its tail would instinctively recoil and then, as if safe, uncurl until the next drop hit the animal’s tail again. This process repeated itself with frequency like the sound of a scratched vinyl on a record player. A part of Krebs wanted to help the stray animal, but he was running late for Helen’s game. It would be too much responsibility to care for the animal now anyway. Krebs quickened his pace to reach Helen’s game. Standing at the entrance of the school hallway, Krebs noticed how the lockers spanned like soldiers in formation against the walls. He shook his head in vain to stop the memories of France. He could see his corporal friend, the same corporal who would chew out his privates to instill grit in them. It was the only thing that would save them on the frontlines, he said. Krebs shook his head again to forget the hundred days at Argonne and ignore the next image that went through his mind. His corporal was now grabbing at forearm bone, splintered through his skin. Blood seemed to be shooting out of his wound as quickly and forcefully as the bullet had passed through. The corporal’s mouth belted a note of anguish that Krebs could not shake from memory. Krebs turned around, deciding to take the long way to the baseball field. He would have to be late for his sister’s game. Upon arrival, his sister was already on the mound. An inning had passed. Krebs selected a seat behind the left-field dugout, six rows back. Directly behind the dugout sat several sailors. They came in groups, as always, and never left home without their bell bottoms. Several seats to his left sat a middle-aged couple. The man was a swell, wearing a midnight-blue worsted coat trimmed with satin, a white bow tie, white gloves, and patented leather Oxfords. The woman proudly flaunted the man’s wealth as well. Her wrists donned extravagance as her fingers, lightly wrapped around her mink coat, occasionally pointed to the second baseman. Behind Krebs sat a young mother with her adolescent son and infant daughter. She would occasionally switch duties with her son in holding the infant. When off-duty, she began screaming in support of her child’s team. Even during idol play, she would jeer the other team as if to compensate for her quiet periods when she held her daughter. Krebs just wished the woman would stop yelling. During one of her irritating screams, Krebs instinctively turned half-way around to tell her to “shut up for god’s sake,” but he did not. He could feel his heart pounding and the blood surging throughout his body as his rage built, but he would contain his emotions this time. The army had taught him that. He would leave the third-base side and sit in the outfield bleachers instead. The steel bleachers were desolate, and that was fine with Krebs. Several minutes later, as he sat there, he could crisply hear the sound of his sister’s pitches smacking the catcher’s mitt. The right-fielder would occasionally break CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 45

SYNAPSES this audible pattern by muttering to herself about how her team was going to lose anyway. To Krebs, however, this was it: the simple life. He felt the disconnect he had been searching for. His sister winged each pitch and the catcher’s mitt followed with a resounding pop every time. The monotony was numbing, and the feeling of numbness was good. Again and again, the pattern continued. The simplicity was much like the loading of his Colt 45. Krebs shook his head again to repress those memories. The opposing dugout soon exploded with cheers as several baserunners crossed home plate where a poof of dust collected in the air. The right-fielder began talking to herself even louder now. Her prediction of the game seemed to be coming true as she shook her head in embarrassment. Other than Krebs, who she had not seemed to notice, her only audience was a pigeon that was hopping around the outfield. The bird maneuvered around the girl with jolting motions due to its missing leg. Krebs wondered if the injured creature would ever find its escape from the indoor facility. Krebs had not known the score since he arrived, nor did he care. He was here for his best sister. A slight headache was coming upon him though, and the metal bleachers seemed to be chilling up. Helen would not mind if he left early. She had seen her brother watching from the third-base seats earlier. She knew he was there for her. He was sure of it. Krebs left the indoor facility. Moisture clung to the outside air, and his lungs felt it immediately. Beams of sunlight cut through slits in the clouds, making him squint. The ambiance gave Krebs hope for a better evening. He would skip his habitual visit to the pool room and, instead, head home for the day. The drain, where the grey cat had found protection, was now empty; and the brochure he had left on the bench was gone. Krebs figured that the rain had carried it off, but he had a small hope that someone had taken it. Nearing home, he noticed the neighbors’ front yards. Their grass was drenched by the rain from earlier, yet their sprinklers kept shooting. Krebs did not give it much thought. His family’s motor car was not out front. Stepping up the front porch of his home, Krebs could see his mother through the open blinds of the front window. She was napping on the couch. Krebs stepped cautiously and opened the front door slowly as not to wake her. He snatched the home-made blanket from the entryway closet and approached his mother. Her eyes were partially open, and her mouth quivered sporadically. Her friends thought of her sleeping eyes as frightening, but for Krebs, it was normal. Her tear-stained apron rested in her unclenched right hand, hanging over the couch’s edge. Her left hand was stuck between the couch’s backrest and her body. Krebs thought her left arm would probably be numb when she woke up. Hoping for some small redemption from the pain he had caused her earlier, Krebs bent down, kissed his mother, unfolded the blanket, flung it high above her, and let it drift onto her like a parachute. The blanket covered his mother’s face almost entirely. Krebs let it be. He passed his other sister on the way up the stairs. She stopped once she noticed him. He could tell that she was fidgety, but at her age, he did not think it peculiar. She clearly wanted to talk about something. “Hey Hare, did you just get back from Sis’ game?” “Yup,” Krebs responded apathetically. He hoped that she would not ask any more about the game. He would not know what to say. “Have you seen Ma today? I came down earlier and she was crying at the kitchen sink.” Krebs could easily decipher his little sister’s intentions. She was asking more out of intrigue for a juicy story than out of concern for their mother. Krebs wanted to kill the conversation. “She’s sleeping on the couch now.” 46 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES “Do you know what happened though?” Krebs was her hero. He did not want to lie to yet another person, but the truth was more than he cared to say. He could feel the nausea building. It was the preliminary consequence to yet another lie. She would keep pestering him if he did not give her a satisfactory response. He hated this whole process. “She cut herself again on the cutting board. She is fine now,” Krebs spouted. The fidgetiness of his sister immediately left her. His answer was apparently not as exhilarating as she hoped it would be. With that, she gave some excuse to exit their conversation, and then descended the stairs. Krebs opened the door to his room. Before taking a nap, he would practice on his clarinet and then look for the old Bible under his bed. He wanted to see those signatures again. Tomorrow, he would look for work. Life was just starting to go rather smoothly, and he wanted it to stay that way.­ ■ CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 47

SYNAPSES NATALIE KIERUZEL, CMS ’24 Butterfly Pelvis Artist’s Statement: This anatomical drawing of the bony pelvis was inspired by its resemblance to butterfly wings. I wanted the pelvis to float in space as if it were one of the butterflies surrounding the flowers in the image. This image also plays with the idea of the human figure being reborn into another life. Graphite on paper. 48 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY

SYNAPSES MIRE K DUNDR, Ph D, FACULTY Nature’s Beauty Artist’s Statement: If we truly love nature, we will find beauty everywhere CHICAGO MEDICAL SCHOOL 49

SYNAPSES L E O K E L LY, M D, FAC U LT Y Spring Came Just in time For the columbine And forsythia to bloom. Just in time To bring bright sunshine And fresh air into my room. Just in time For a songbird in the pine To sing a joyous tune. Just in time For soft showers so fine To wash away the winter gloom. Spring came And left nothing The same. ■ 50 ROSALIND FR ANKLIN UNIVERSITY