Katrina Bakhl
Asking someone why they decided to become a doctor is one of the most vulnerable questions you can ask a physician. I had acknowledged at the time of applying to medical school that the sudden loss of my grandmother due to medical complexities was what drew me to medicine, while also falsely thinking at the time that understanding this further helped me heal the pain I felt from losing her. However, fast forward two years into medical school, I came to know that the emotional wound that is grief only had a temporary band-aid. It wasn’t until I had a patient who had a similar diagnosis and outcome as my grandmother—that I realized I had yet to process the fact that my grandma passed away—though it has been several years since her death. I had not realized it at the time, but I compartmentalized what happened to be able to move on and “function.” I didn’t attempt to treat the wound or let it heal. I decided to essentially slap a band-aid on as a means of “working on it” but essentially covering it up. Some people prefer this way when grieving, while some attempt other methods of helping the wound heal faster, attempting whatever approach will help make the pain go away faster, or essentially let the wound heal. When we finally do heal, we are left with a scar, whether it is a small spot or a large asymmetrical mark, essentially serving as the memories of the person we lost, and a reminder of the times we shared. This piece was inspired by the emotional turmoil I was experiencing when I realized I had yet to grieve my grandmother. My wound, also known as my grief, was still open, waiting to be treated.
About the Artist
Katrina is a second-year medical student at Penn State College of Medicine. She was born in Uzbekistan and raised in Brooklyn, NY.