Black Diamonds 2021 by GeisingerCollege

AN ARTS & LITERARY MAGAZINE GEISINGER COMMONWEALTH SCHOOL OF MEDICINE VOLUME 8 | 2021

Cover Image Dunescape 2 Mario Cornacchione, DO | Associate Professor

Black Diamonds is an arts and literary magazine of Geisinger Commonwealth School of Medicine. All content is the property of each respective author/artist. No part of this magazine may be reproduced without the permission of the author/artist of each submission.

Geisinger Commonwealth School of Medicine is committed to non-discrimination in all employment and educational opportunities.

table of contents still there 06 vermont blacksmith 08 wasted capital 09 earth wind fire Ice10 sunrise over the ocean11 growth 1 12 grit 13 growth 15 rainbow falls 16 morning mist 17 knots and stiTches 18 dunEscape 1 19 dunescape 2, dunEscape 3 21 tree of life 22 black sand 24 black sand 25

26 trending now: ‘beyond heartbreaking’ 27 when graves become gardens 29 entrepreneur 30 cricket 31 looking up 32 partnership 33 alone but not lonely - tree kutztown pa 34 devil’s bridge 35 young buck in velvet 36 grit 38 pretty in pink 39 hummingbird moth 40 life in a jar 41 illegtimi non carborundum 42 fortitude

or thousands of people living in northeastern Pennsylvania (NEPA) during the 19th and 20th centuries, coal was precious. It was the black diamond they mined and the substance that supported their

lives. Formed in ancient times under the massive pressure of the sediment above it, coal became the foundation of an entire economy in NEPA. That economy has all but vanished from this part of the country, but today, NEPA is witnessing the formation of a new and valuable resource. Created under the pressure of a great need for future physicians, Geisinger Commonwealth School of Medicine now exists. New students are coming in to NEPA every year to begin the process of being transformed into physicians through the steady, constant pressures of medical school. And like the rich veins of coal that extended through the region, these future physicians are now stretched across counties in northeastern and central Pennsylvania. For many of these students and their teachers, the arts are an important part of life outside of medicine. Our hope is that this journal can serve as a showcase for their expression and be an inspiration to those who read it.

Zachary Wolfe, MD MD Class of 2015

Still There Karen Ann Ephlin, MD, FAAP Clinical Assistant Professor of Pediatrics 06

Heather M. Davis, MFA Director, Marketing and Communications

despite a journey’s twists and turns. Grit gives much more than it takes. The phrase ‘uncertain times’ is already a cliche.

“Grit (as in small pebbles) works rough surfaces smooth allowing the beauty of the object to be realized in a new way. Grit (as in the ability to persevere) allows us to face difficulty with resilience. I think both definitions define the light that has been a global pandemic for most of us. It captures the discomfort we felt through the experience while highlighting the ability of the human spirit to persevere.” Our layout designer Katie Mullen inspired the theme of this year’s Black Diamonds with her quote above. As with numerous words and qualities, grit takes on a myriad of meanings. Look no further than this issue to see just how many ways grit reveals itself. Thousands of years ago, the stones in Nicholas Mynarski’s “Morning Mist” would not have caught the light like they did the moment he captured that photograph. Shuyi Chen and Yezhong Lu, in sharing their paths to careers in medicine, show the perseverance it requires to continue on

Some things are certain. We are still in the midst of a global pandemic that has strained the most resilient among us. We are still seeking social justice for all races, ethnicities, religious beliefs, abilities, sizes, genders and sexual orientations. And humanity’s grit — only as grit can — has offered solace in the face of these difficult certainties. Grit takes only to give. It all might seem like too big a price to pay. The humanities help human beings make sense of this, of the need for grit. The Latin word humanitas means human nature — it also signifies humaneness, kindness. That’s why a medical school has an arts and literary magazine. The sciences and the humanities don’t oppose each other; they complement and strengthen each other. As you peruse these pages, ask yourself, “What has grit given me?” You’ll be surprised if you take a moment to breathe deep and count its manifestations in your life.

Vermont Blacksmith William Jeffries, PhD Vice Dean for Medical Education

WASTED CAPITAL Iris Johnston Library Specialist “No one wants to work!” he swings

lawnmowers, pave roads,

his axe against the trunk, “So what,

do all that Important Work.

they’re all afraid to sweat?” He swings. His bursae swell like gumballs.

I found a chunk of stump unwanted

“At least I’m free!”

no mushroom’s mantle, raccoon’s roof

The woodsman never wonders if his target houses owls or if the needles, steeped in syrup, might cure a sticky cough. He only cares the wood is there, fat with sap to split like fudge beneath his axe and power

and brought it to my studio. I have a pad of papers swabbed with glue and grades of garnet. With these and some patience, I’ll sit and wait until the wood and I decide what it can be.

Earth Wind Fire Ice Oil Painting Tice Harkins MD Class OF 2024 10

Sunrise Over the Ocean Oil Painting Tice Harkins MD Class OF 2024 11

Growth 1 Janay Parker MBS Class of 2022

GRIT 12

transformed me, but I became more certain that

Shuyi Chen

I could find meaning in my life through studying

MD Class of 2024

and practicing medicine. Thereafter, I became determined to go to medical school. However,

Studying medicine was something only at the

because of the international high school program

back of my mind when my beloved grandfather

in which I was enrolled in China, my only option

passed away from pancreatic cancer. While it

at that time if I wanted to pursue medicine was to

was extremely painful to see his body deteriorate

go to medical school overseas.

in front of my eyes, there was also a growing curiosity in my heart about the human body and cancer biology. Yet it was only just a seed – I did not really see myself becoming a physician at that time, partially because of my mediocre academic performance in middle school, partially because none of my family members are in fields that are even close to healthcare. Years passed, the seed was eventually

Great goals come with great obstacles. I did not know anyone in my or my parents’ circle who came to the United States as a foreign student for college and somehow managed to be accepted into one of the most difficult degree programs in the country. Though I studied at an international high school program, my English foundations in science subjects were rather weak. For example, I could recognize all elements of the periodic

awakened during high school when I shadowed

tables, but I didn’t know how to say sodium

a cardiologist at one of the busiest hospitals in

chloride in English back then. It was the same

Shanghai, China. Even under such high pressure

with a lot of the biology terminologies, which kept

due to the patient volume, I was touched by

me awake at night during my freshman year at

Dr. Shen’s patience and compassion to his

college.

patients, his composure when facing difficult situations and, most importantly, patients’ genuine appreciation of his skills. It was hard for me to describe how exactly these moments

Being 18, with no family presence in the country, no prior schooling history in the U.S., studying with my second language in college and someone who was a pre-med sounded like

a recipe for doom. But I knew deeply that this

dream in my life finally came true after so many

was the field that I wanted to devote myself to

hurdles and uncertainties. My dad cried because

and I would not let the odds turn against me. I

he was well aware of the effort and sacrifices I

remembered promising myself to survive the first

made to achieve this wonderful goal.

year at college and maintain a good GPA – no matter what. I studied like a robot because I knew it was now or never. I went to as many pre-med information sessions and office hours as I could, because I needed to take more initiative to be on the same level with the domestic students who already knew the information. During freshman year, I often had this vision

middle school classroom, maybe I did not have the language and cultural foundations when I first came to the U.S. for college, maybe I was facing more odds against me than for me, but what I did have was grit and perseverance. Day in and day out, I woke up thinking how I could perform better to get into medical school. I prayed to Gods

in my mind that I was in a dark tunnel, but very,

asking for strength every night before I drifted

very far away I could see a fuzzy bright spot

to sleep. I did not have a role model when I first

which was my goal of entering medical school.

came to the U.S. who had a similar background

Throughout my college years, I felt that the bright

and successfully paved a path to medical school.

spot was gradually getting clearer and brighter as

So, I hope to be that role model for other students

I tirelessly worked toward my end goal. Finally, in

who also have the sincerest dream of becoming a

mid May of 2020, I walked out of the dark tunnel

physician but may be struggling in some aspects

with flying flags after the admissions office called

of their lives. I also hope that perhaps one day I

and informed me that I was accepted to the MD

can inspire my patients who face challenges in

Class of 2024 at Geisinger Commonwealth. There

their pursuit of well-being to continue to fight for

was never a day in the past and probably not a

their goals, no matter what they may be.

day in the future that will be as meaningful or as special as that day. Both my dad and I cried like children. I cried because the most important

Maybe I was not the smartest kid sitting in my

Growth Janay Parker MBS Class of 2022

Rainbow Falls Tyler Schubert MD Class of 2025 16

Morning Mist Nicholas Mynarski MD Class of 2023 17

KNOTS AND STITCHES Monica Joglekar MD Class of 2022

Y.C. laid in the bed, his dark wispy hair splayed

I squeezed his hand. “You are too young to be

onto the pillow. The other half of his head was

this sick, Y.C. You have your whole life to look

shaved, with a scar curling down his scalp from

forward to.” He smiled and reached for his phone.

a craniotomy for a temporal aneurysm and an

His skeletal fingers trembled as he pulled up

abscess. His dark lids were heavy with burdens

pictures of his baby son with rosy cheeks.

no young man should have to carry. He was diagnosed with infective endocarditis from IV drug use and had been flown to the local hospital. However, he was discharged against medical advice. He now presented again with fatigue and weight loss. The infection in his aortic and mitral valve had spread. I gently asked him what he understood about his condition. He gazed up at me. “The doctors keep finding something wrong. First, it was my brain. Then, my heart. Now, my spleen. When is it going to be fixed? If there is no good solution, then I might as well leave again and accept what God has planned.”

“He’s waiting for me. I do want to be there for him. I am going to stick with rehab this time. I want to be there for my boy.” After speaking with my patient, I went to find my preceptor to relay Y.C.’s concerns. Dr. Farrell was not a difficult man to find during patient rounds. With dark coiffed hair streaked with a single shock of grey, his cerulean eyes twinkled above his mask whenever he spoke. His voice had a way of making everyone feel as though they were chatting in a warm kitchen with an old friend rather than a chilly operating room. He knew the town the same way he knew exactly how to find Calot’s node hidden in a maze of viscid tissue, and he approached patients the same

way he approached surgery. He took a patient’s history and sutured together glimpses of their life with the same tenderness and attention that he used to put in knots and stitches. He made sure all his students understood that patients would remember every detail of the day they felt most vulnerable. After I reported my findings, he looked surprised. Y.C. was sullen when the team previously talked to him. “If he spoke to you about his son, he may be coming around. It seems like he opened up to you.” He walked into the patient’s room and gave a soft smile. He understood how Y.C. felt that his body was being ravaged by an endless series of surgeries. However, it was necessary to remove his spleen to minimize subsequent infection of the prosthetic heart valve he would be receiving. “So, if I do this, will this infection come back?” Y.C. asked. Dr. Farrell looked at him with concern. “You have to meet us halfway,” Dr. Farrell replied. “If you continue using heroin, the infection can come back.” Understanding the gravity of his situation, Y.C. gave consent. On a crisp Saturday morning, I made my way

Dunescape 1 Mario Cornacchione, DO Associate Professor

to the OR to observe the robotic splenectomy.

The procedure was a rare one. Y.C.’s frail body somehow looked smaller under the robotic arms

hospital became overwhelmed and healthcare

in the operating room. Dr. Farrell and his senior

teams worked with limited supplies, the scientific

resident looked intently through the surgeon’s

community did just that. They used what was in

console. As their nimble fingers danced in the

front of them. They adapted. That summer, I had

air, I watched a waltz between technology and

seen faces with lips unprepared to carry frigid

humanity. My eyes drifted from the battlefield

whispers of bad news warmed only by tender

on the screen to Y.C.’s sleeping figure. I thought

goodbyes. However, on this winter morning, I

about his mother who was sitting in the waiting

saw those faces now weathered by the storm

room counting the minutes. Waiting had

of unknown pathology and lips made stiff by

become so routine for a world that busied itself

the weight of bereavement. Their eyes, like

anticipating what further struggles a pandemic

raconteurs, collected stories of anger, denial,

may put forth. COVID-19 had morphed the

regret, loss and love.

landscape of medicine and the meaning of the word. Waiting meant safety and hope. Yellow curtains of tissue parted to uncover a

As the spleen was evacuated, I thought about what Y.C. represented to my surgical team. An illness had put this young man’s life on hold.

scene of brutality. The spleen was slumped and

However, as his battered spleen was removed, a

prodigious from the insidious assault of bacterial

battle against an unseen enemy had been won.

infection. I watched Dr. Farrell uncover the ruins

The comforting ticks of the clock on the wall

of the unrelenting campaign of disease against

were a reminder that, like time, this too would

mortality.

pass. As sutures closed the edges of Y.C.’s skin,

“See these adhesions on the spleen? We can use them for traction,” Dr. Farrell said to us. “Sometimes, the best thing we can do is use what’s in front of us to our advantage.”

I thought about Dr. Farrell’s words. As the

it felt as though we had closed a chapter in both this young man’s life and our own. In the frosty white lights of the operating room, a surgeon mended together the jagged edges of a newfound normal… slowly, with knots and stitches.

Dunescape 2 Mario Cornacchione, DO Associate Professor

Dunescape 3 Mario Cornacchione, DO Associate Professor 21

Tree of Life Nicholas Mynarski MD Class of 2023 23

Black Sand Darin Chhing MBS Class of 2021

BLACK SAND Darin Chhing MBS Class of 2021 “Black sand like diamonds. Weathered by adversity, Grit becomes beauty.”

TRENDING NOW: ‘BEYOND HEARTBREAKING’ Mira Patel MD Class of 2024

I stared at my toes peeping through black rubber sandals. A few feet in front of me, a tall

surgical techs and nurses, wore a traditional

authoritative man stood over the right breast

kurta, a long collarless shirt with leggings. All this

tissue of his female patient, diligently working

was less and less shocking to me as I had been

to remove the cancerous parts. Although the

shadowing with this group in India for almost two

room was filled with almost twenty people, it was

weeks.

mostly silent. The surgeon periodically named an instrument and a few women shuffled through metal containers to hand them to him. I had observed a few procedures today, all with the same general flow. The general surgeon, a few residents and I would navigate through the crowded halls of this local Baroda hospital to a procedure area. We would change into scrubs and put on sandals. The doctors would scrub into cleaned, reused gloves. I would walk into the OR with the residents, always followed by curious eyes as I realized that I was the only female in

scrubs. The other females in the room, mostly

This surgery unfolded the same as the others, as I stood back straining to get a glimpse of what lay underneath the surgeon’s scalpel. But then the room went dark. The electricity cut out, as did the hum of the machines in the background. My heart was pounding in my chest as my mind raced to the patient’s young grandson whom I had met just earlier that day. All I could think was that she’d never get to hold him again. Looking around, I noticed I was the only one that seemed to be panicking. Everyone else kept

working as though nothing had changed. The bright midday sun shone through a tiny window high on the back wall, its rays splaying across the room. And then in a few minutes, the machines roared again, the florescent lights flickered back on, and everyone in the room continued unfazed. The work went on. I have recounted this story on multiple occasions since returning to the U.S. and starting medical school, knowing that I would be met with disbelief and amusement from my listeners. Here in the United States, we often think of places like India as being on a different planet. Yet having spent so much time there, I begin to forget how different it really is, having grown used to so many of their practices inside and outside of the operating room. Fast forward a few years to April 2021, now over a year into the global COVID-19 pandemic. These days, most of my time is spent in a windowless

When Graves Become Gardens Marissa McHale MBS Class of 2021 27

study room, eyes learning different ascending

Indeed, most are unaware that some of their

and descending pathways of the central nervous

classmates, professors and other members of

system. My mind, however, is completely

the Indian community are receiving WhatsApp

elsewhere.

messages all day and night that yet another

I reach for my phone and see the headline ‘Beyond Heartbreaking’ trending on Twitter, as

How can we as medical students seek more

the description by one reporter of the COVID-19

understanding of the current events taking place

crisis in India. For a few weeks now, hospitals

globally, especially during a global pandemic?

all over India have run out of oxygen supplies as

I have gained so much from my experience

the number of COVID cases and COVID deaths

and culture in India, and yet feel so helpless in

reaches a new global record every day. Running

India’s time of need. I continue to urge my fellow

out of crematorium spaces, many cities have

classmates to ask more questions and try to

started to light mounds of wood one next to the

learn more outside of the walls of medical school.

other to cremate bodies as quickly as possible.

With these experiences, perhaps one day as

While I was once eager to recount my experiences in India to classmates, their responses to my stories make me realize that most of them probably do not know the severity and horror of what is taking place right now.

person they know has been affected by this crisis.

physicians we will be able to lend our help to the global community in need.

Entrepreneur William Jeffries, PhD Vice Dean for Medical Education 29

Cricket Amy Kennalley MBS Class of 2021 30

LOOKING UP Chloé Mballa MBS Class of 2021 I held courage by the hand And carried the storm on my head The birds followed me Singing The sun marched with me Shining I was finally free.

Partnership Jaclyn Podd MD Class of 2024 32

Alone but not Lonely - Tree Kutztown, PA Janis Williams Administrative Assistant for Student Affairs

Devil’s Bridge Tyler Schubert MD Class of 2025

Young Buck in Velvet Janis Williams Administrative Assistant for Student Affairs

GRIT Yezhong Lu MD Class of 2024

It is another sleepless night. Immersed in the darkness, time seemed to be slowed down and

felt like dark cloud blocking my vision and slowly

stretched indefinitely. Crickets outside are happily

clotting my veins. I used to think, “If I can see

performing their symphony. I listened quietly as I

through it and find the source of it, I will be able

waited for the morning to arrive.

to defeat it.” But the problem was I couldn’t, or

I started to experience insomnia since the first week of college. I believed it would cease as I get more adjusted to the college environment. But it didn’t. The exhaustion and mental stress from insomnia were wearing me down. Soon I realized that having just a tenacious spirit is not enough. I started to isolate myself from others. I had mixed feelings – I didn’t want others to find out my problems but also wanted to be understood. I was diagnosed with depression, something that I never imagined myself to be associated with. I begin to use my nights to think about life

and started to analyze my “enemy.” Depression

I did and didn’t want to admit it, because what I saw was myself in a mirror. I couldn’t figure out the puzzle, it felt like witnessing the sinking of the Titanic – it is sinking so fast and I don’t know what happened to it, all I could do was watch. Without any solution, I was waiting for an epiphany, while the toxins collected inside of my body. I was further from where I want to be. There needs to be a change. I forced myself to participate actively in various cultural clubs and took on multiple leadership roles to find a sense of belonging. I found great joy in helping

other college students acclimate to the college

a complicated healthcare system. Working in

environment. By building a network and a space

construction was paradoxical: I worked to build a

for students to voice their concerns and struggles

strong and resilient house, yet the work itself was

within the cultural clubs, I found a support system

destructive by leading to numerous orthopedic

for myself and others. I regained my confidence

problems for my co-workers. Seeing the struggles

and started to strive academically.

of my colleagues made me more determined

After college, I decided to take some time off and continue to explore opportunities outside of my comfort zone. I sought out a job in residential

to become a physician to take care of their bodies and guide them through decisions in their healthcare.

construction. Almost a month into working at the

The roadblocks I have encountered made me

construction site, I found myself sanding plaster

the person I am today. I am not scared of failure

and installing wooden floor tiles during scorching

as I used to be, in exchange, the roadblocks give

summer days. Every day I would repeat some

me chance to discover everything I could be. I am

form of this work for 9 hours a day. I learned

confident that continuing my study in medicine

about the downsides of hard, physical labor

will make me a proficient physician, but my

and connected with my co-workers who often

resiliency and empathy will distinguish me as a

spoke of the ill effects their environment had on

doctor.

their health and their difficulties in navigating

Pretty in Pink Sophia Costan MD Class of 2024

Hummingbird Moth Janis Williams Administrative Assistant for Student Affairs

Life in a Jar Anton Androsov MD Class of 2022

Still Life With Symbols of ReSISTANCE AND QUOTE FROM THE HANDMAID’S TALE Iris Johnston Library Specialist

Fortitude My Nguyen MD Class of 2025 42

COMMITTEE

Heather M. Davis, MFA Editor in chief Jaclyn Podd Managing Editor Katherine Mullen Layout Designer

Iris Johnston Staff Editorial Assistant Janice Richardson Staff Editorial Assistant Karen Ephlin, MD Faculty Editorial Assistant 85500-2/22-HDAV/KM