by Art Nahill. Commitment was written after struggling with the decision to declare a patient incompetent. She was unable to return home and part of me felt that I had failed her in some fundamental way.
by Art Nahill. This was written for a patient of that exact age whose body was failing although her mind remained sharp. The poem tries to reflect the ambivalence she feels and often expressed about going on.
by Jeff Bown. For many years my wife and I have enjoyed walking and jogging the Manawatu Gorge Track, often at the end of a working day. We talk and listen to birdsong ...
LATEST FROM THE PROJECT TEAM
Glenn Colquhoun talks to Kathryn Ryan on Radio New Zealand about 'Late love,' his recent book about the overlap in his life between poetry and medicine as well as his work as a GP working with young people in Horowhenua.
Our mystery man was still on a ventilator, I hoped asleep as a result of the sedation we were giving him rather than unconscious due to a massive head injury. What I did know was that he was far too unstable for us to move him to be scanned in order to find out one way or the other.
Holocaust Memorial Speech (He Korero Maumaharatanga mo te mate Kohuru Kino nui i te wa o te Holocaust) Korero whakataki Speech introduction Tihei mauri ora! E nga...
by Sinéad Donnelly. This is part of a longer essay recording my year of transition from palliative medicine to acute medicine. I write to console myself and to capture the extraordinary in the ordinary.
by Trevor Lloyd. This piece is based on an assignment for a postgraduate paper on The Nature of Medical Practice. It has allowed me some reflection on my experience of medical practice at different stages of my life. It also gives some valuable background about the context for the other stories.
by Glenn Colquhoun. This is an address I gave at the opening of Ko Awatea in 2011. In some ways this is where The Medicine Stories Project started. Having put my thoughts down here I found it hard to shut up and walk away from them...
by Sinéad Donnelly. I wrote this piece on Christmas Eve, the day I met this patient. It is consoling to read again every year, as Christmas can be lonely as an immigrant to New Zealand.