Untitled

Courtney Brown, MD

I took down the pictures first

Why?

Because I didn’t know who she was any more

Hadn’t for years really

This person with a smile

This person with hope

I would look at her on the wall as I passed to go the bathroom

For the 1millionth time that day

And think you fool

Just wait

Even after surgery when the bathroom changed over to a bag on my stomach

I would see this stranger

But now I felt confusion or yearning? Jealousy?

No, it was loss

Deep persistent loss

She lived in space in my mind, where I wanted to return to

But had long since been bulldozed over

By disease, by chronic pain, by ableism, by misplaced hope

So I took down the pictures first

Because that smile was not mine any more

Just like this apartment

Just like my job

Just like my hope

And with that wall now empty

Just like me

I started again

Courtney Brown, MD works in the Office of Diversity and Inclusion at New York Medical College. Her poem describes her experience with endometriosis, a painful and aggressive syndrome which ultimately made it impossible to continue her anesthesiology residency. In the poem, she describes a portrait of herself smiling at her medical school graduation. The portrait, which used to hang on her wall, initially symbolized hope and strength. She told us: “it was both a fulfillment of a dream I had since I was eleven years old and also a celebration of survival.” However, when her disease recurred with complications, the portrait became hard to relate to. Courtney said: “The poem is untitled because in this time of rebuilding, with new wisdom, I feel untitled.” Then she added: “At least for now.” We are grateful that she shared this story with us.