A Letter from an Editor: Baffour Kyerematen
There are four core components in the art of conversation: language, tone, silence, and listening. In medical school, we are taught how to play these parts in conversation our future patients. However, in medical practice, it appears that our in-person experience reveals itself as the true teacher. These experiences are comprised a mixture of confidence and vulnerability, medical prowess and scientific unknowns, the benefits health policy and the red tape of politics, each playing a pivotal part in our triumphs and hiccups.
But outside of our medical microcosm, how do we as individuals respond to the things that affect our academics, our future professions, or even our morals? Medical school may not quite give us an avenue to respond to our intermediate place in society, therefore, when do we learn how to fully occupy that space? The art of conversation amongst doctors-in-training can feel lost, forced, or quite frankly, just often ineffective.
As a medical student, having a public venue to share opinions, ideas, or honestly even thinly-veiled complaints, is kind of a new phenomenon. We are familiar with the idea of being a doctor: we’ve read the prose of Abraham Verghese and Atul Gawande, watched the dramatic resident yelling “stat!” in a far too dimly lit and crowded room on television dramas, and at the most universal, we’ve all at least been a patient once. But what’s missing is the meaning, or equally important, the feeling of what it is like to be a medical student in 2019. We don’t have television shows about our experiences, nor Pulitzer prize winning books offering a glimpse into our lives. And with a quick google search, you would think that Student Doctor Network or #medschoolreddit is the only narrative slowly infiltrating the ether (to either the benefit or detriment of many students). The rise of medical students and physicians using social media predicates the influence our words can have. Social media democratizes the art of opinion. It facilitates the spread of good and bad information. And it cements your once fleeting thoughts into permanence (unfortunately the receipts of your middle-school Facebook self will never fade). But what we can stand to gain from engaging in the art of writing and the art of sharing, as it pertains to medicine, is the ability to humanize our experience in medical training. By practicing writing and communication, we practice reflection. And with reflection, we are able to tap into a version of growth that goes beyond scientific and clinical knowledge.
For the launch of this new blog, we’re trying an experiment. I, for one, am interested in what my classmates have to say about our funky, enriching, and tiresome experience in the medical machine. How do we learn the art of dialogue and conversation to make us better communicators? Where do we find moments of congruity amongst growing dissidence? How do we practice finding our voice in a sea of noisy discourse? I certainly do not have the answers to those questions, but I am happy to have the opportunity to explore these ideas through a reader’s lens.
I’m excited to read the things my intelligent classmates have to say. Courageous, funny, and poignant as they may be, let us use this opportunity to practice finding our voice.
Thanks for joining us.
Baffour Kyerematen is a medical student at the University of Oklahoma College of Medicine and a co-founder of the Atlas blog. His interests include film photography, health policy, Beyoncé's extensive discography, and endocrinology (not necessarily in that order).
