The golden thread

Maria Hancock, Second year medical student

Published in JHH17.1 – Stories in Medicine

I’m a second year medical student who is rooted towards the artistic end of scale, driven by a love of narrative, creativity and a sense of ‘the bigger picture’. My Russian heritage has shaped my love of language and culture. When I’m not experimenting with unusual flavour combinations in the kitchen, I enjoy swing dancing, calligraphy, singing and writing poetry. I also run the Bristol medical student magazine, the Black Bag and have been involved in writing and directing the annual medics’ satirical comedy show (Medics’ Review).

I lead University Engagement for the Bristol branch of Nutritank, a nationwide organisation of medical students who promote more nutritional and lifestyle education within the curriculum. We have recently worked with the National Centre of Integrative Medicine to run a Food for Mood course for students. We believe that educating ourselves and our patients about preventing illness before it happens is one of the most powerful changes we could make, as the power of food as medicine tackles the root cause of numerous chronic illnesses. For my student choice placement in my second year of medical school, I was fortunate enough to spend three weeks at Penny Brohn in Bristol. This place empowers people with cancer and their supporters using integrative medicine. During my time there, I was struck by the profound impact of cancer on all aspects of a person’s life, and how a doctor must look beyond medicine alone to support them. These realisations came through a collection of specific words, phrases and images. Reflecting on each day, I would write these down, and they formed a makeshift diary of my time at Penny Brohn. For our final presentation, I wanted to infuse the most memorable words from the clients I had the privilege to speak to, so I compiled my fervid scribbles into a more structured poem. I hope it can tell the story of the people I met; the final verse then offers my response as a student. I would like to thank Dr Catherine Zollman and Dr Derek Chase for their support, insight and wisdom.

The golden thread

The gavel takes a final fall, the jury turns and flees. A poison, hushed and silent is injected into me. The sand timer turns over, spilling faster than deserved Yet Nature brings no justice with her iron, final word.

We are mere servants to Nature’s command, Her ruthless, destructive and whimsical hand. Yet the very same Nature that inflicts this ordeal Has the power to transform, to restore and to heal. We are caught up in cycles, inescapable tides.

Each spirit unique, yet inextricably tied. To glance in a circle of candlelit eyes Is an ancient reminder to the art of our tribes Who delighted, like us, in the light through the leaves And that blissful moment to pause and just breathe.

But we power on, like cyborgs; barely human, we suppress For denial is protective from grief writhing in our chest. But there comes a time when the human soul can only bear so much weight. To be human, and not perfect, is our one unchanging fate.

Because sometimes, there’s nothing. Nothing to say Only the weight of unquenchable pain. If you realise the horror of the cards you’ve been dealt, It seems wiser for feelings to never be felt. But there’s a time and a place to uproot the false smile, And acknowledge despair and the strife for a while. The destruction of my whole identity. The treatment eviscerates me to my core, A treatment that brings me more pain than before.

To cut, burn, or poison; a generous choice I dissolve to a number, a body, no voice. I do not need your pity Or a lump of half-felt words. Just make me feel like I’m human, Give me hope that you have heard.

Because I need more than medicine to heal mind, body and soul. Show me how my story unfolds into a greater whole. Cancer is not all that I am; it is just a part of me. For if I see it as a war, how can I make my peace?

Thank you, cancer, for strengthening me. For I dare to feel flickers of ecstasy At the tiniest joys which I wouldn’t have known I take solace in darkness, bringing light of my own.

We must shake hands with Death to know Life as a gift. To stand at the edge of that mighty abyss, And to sit at Death’s doorstep can bring you to learn A gratitude no other plight can unearth.

I met you once, but you took root in me. You brought me to utmost humility To cling on to whatever life we have left And weave tapestries with a Golden Thread. To make a constellation from a scattering of stars I’ll delight in the truth that Medicine is most of all an art. Our souls at peace, immortalised, our stories I shall tell,Of how we came to be here and how we started living well.