Michael Wynn is a neurologist in Corvallis, Oregon. His chapbook “Bodies of Evidence” was published in 2015.
A month into residency I saw how neurologic conditions often come out of nowhere. Parkinson’s, MS, Epilepsy, ALS—the list is long. Observing how good health is fleeting was a new and depressing experience for me. It was also an essential step in my evolution as a physician.
I wish I had the benefit of reading Dr. Jessica Little’s essay “Medical Metamorphosis” (Intima, Fall 2014) during those early months. Becoming a medical provider is indeed a “metamorphosis—a violent stretching.”
Contributing to my metamorphosis was noticing what was intriguing as often as I could. The endless number of shades of flawless skin. More monitors than humans in the angio suite. Histopathology mirroring abstract impressionist art. It was available if I kept my eyes open. This was my “acclimatizing to a new consciousness.” Little’s quote of Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a challenge we must meet: “life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”
Poetry marks the path of my re-birthing. This process takes energy and inspiration. Too often energy wanes during training and certainly during the day-to-day of clinic. Inspiration is overwhelmed (but sometimes triggered) by the immediacy of loss. In these times a poem revitalizes because it reminds me that in the quotidian we can find revelation and beauty. This poem by Adam Zagajewski is an example:
“Auto Mirror”
In the rear-view mirror suddenly
I saw the bulk of the Beauvais cathedral;
great things dwell in small ones
for a moment.
There are many aesthetic treasures in this poem, not least its reminder to capture the moment. The briefest moments present the promise of durable gain because they offer us an accessible, honest perception of the world. They also remind us that we have a choice on what to make of the world. Employing this choice is the engine that drives personal growth.
I have this poem by Walt Whitman on my office wall:
“I Stand and Look”
I stand and look in the dark under a cloud,
But I see in the distance where the sun shines,
I see the thin haze on the tall white steeples
of the city,—
I see the glistening of the waters in the distance.
The world as it is, fully acknowledged, is the surprising beauty poetry leaves us. Beauty that guides our personal growth.
Michael Wynn is a neurologist in Corvallis, Oregon. His chapbook “Bodies of Evidence” was published in 2015. His poems have appeared in The Cortland Review, Haikuniverse, JAMA, Neurology, Hektoen International, Journal of General Internal Medicine, and Untitled Country Review. He was a poetry contributor at the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference in 2019. He has been an invited speaker on Poetry and Neurology at the AAN annual meeting. IG: michaelwynn57