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HeartBeatPAMSA

HEALTH & arts

IFMSAwas founded in May 1951 and is run by medical students, for medical students, on a non-profit basis. IFMSA is officially recognised as a non-governmental organisation within the United Nations’ system and has official relations with the World Health Organisation. It is the international forum for medical students, and one of the largest student organisations in the world.

is to offer future physicians a comprehensive introduction to global health issues. Through our programs and opportunities, we develop culturally sensitive students of medicine, intent on influencing the transnational inequalities that shape the health of our planet.

ImprintEditor in ChiefErick Meléndez, El Salvador

ProofreadingFabricio Kury, BrazilJill Stone, CanadaHelena Chapman, Dominican RepuclicGénesis Cañas, El SalvadorSandra Tang, PeruJimy Campana, Peru

Design/LayoutErick Meléndez, El Salvador

PublisherInternational Federation ofMedical Students’ AssociationsGeneral Secretariat:IFMSA c/o WMAB.P. 6301212 Ferney-Voltaire, FrancePhone: +33 450 404 759Fax: +33 450 405 937Email: gs@ifmsa.org

Homepage: www.ifmsa.org

Contactsda.publications.pamsa@gmail.com

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Arts And Medicine

HuMAnizAtion tHrougH Art

citizen

is it cold wHAt i feel?

froM our rc

nArrAo

gAllery

Med students by dAy, Actors by nigHt!

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Contents

introduction5

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PAMSA TEAMGeneviève BoisRegional CoordinatorIFMSA - Québecrcamericas@ifmsa.org

Juan PaBlo leivaVPE RAIFMSA - Chilera.vpe.pamsa@gmail.com

Frédéric MorinDA for NMO DevelopmentIFMSA - Québecda.nmo.pamsa@gmail.com

HeBer MoránDA for ProjectsIFMSA - El Salvadorda.projects.pamsa@gmail.com

laura BertaniSCOPE RAAMSA - USAra.scope.pamsa@gmail.com

alHelí calderónSCOPH DAIFMSA - Méxicora.scoph.pamsa@gmail.com

GaBriela nolesDA for NMO Development

IFMSA - Perúda.nmo.pamsa@gmail.com

aris HadJinicolaouSCORA RAIFMSA - Québecra.scora.pamsa@gmail.com

erick MeléndezDA for Publications and

CommunicationIFMSA - El Salvador

da.publications.pamsa@gmail.com

ian PereiraSCOME RA

CFMS - Canadara.scome.pamsa@gmail.com

Fiorella salvadorSCORE RA

IFMSA - Perúra.score.pamsa@gmail.com

Patricia vázquezSCORA RA

IFMSA - Méxicora.scora.pamsa@gmail.com

Marc-andré lavalléeSCORP RA

IFMSA - Québecra.scorp.pamsa@gmail.com

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This magazine is an IFMSA Publication.© Portions if this magazine may be reproduced for non political, and non profit purposes mentioning the source provided.

Notice: Every case has been taken in the preparation of this document. Nevertheless, errors cannot always be avoided. IFMSA cannot accept any responsability for any liability. The opinions expressed in this magazine are those of the authors and do not necesarily reflect the views of IFMSA.

INTRODUCTIONHey PAMSA family!

Arts and health have always been part of our lives, our culture and our history. Even in the ancient times, humanity has always tried to show their reality through paintings, stories, dances and plays. Just like the arts, health has had relevance since the beggining of time. So much effort has been put in keeping ourselves safe and full of life (and alive too).

But the association between both is not just historical. We know of many novels and movies in which the hero or heroine has to battle with some disease, paintings showing diverse aspects or the medical field, artist affected by different kind of pathologies and, more recently, health workers showing us their abilities in the arts and using them in the healing process of patients.

We want to show that we are not just scientist who hide in our labs, behind procedures and under our white coats. We are more and have more to give to the world. That is the reason behind this issue which is now a reality.

And I am impressed. When I thought of the “Health and Arts” topic for this new issue of the HeartBeat, I knew I was going to see and read really good stuff from all of you, but I never imagined the quality of submissions we were going to have, what an amazing standard!

I will finish with one quote from one of my favorite artist who happened to suffer from a mental disease, Vincent Van Gogh: “In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing.”

Lets take our tools and start working in being, not just the good doctors we want to be, but also the good and comprehensive people we need to be in order to achieve succesfully our goals in life.

Have fun reading this issue!

Erick MeléndezDA for Publications and Communication

Front CoverVincent Van Gogh’s “Skull of a Skeleton wih Burning Cigarette” (1885-1886), oil on canvas.Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

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Dear all,

It is really a pleasure to write to you again in this second edition of the Heartbeat for this year. I want to thank Erick Meléndez and his team for the hardwork they put into this.

I also wanted to thank Erick for picking this theme for the edition. Health and the arts? What does that mean? You might be wondering. Interestingly enough, I feel it can mean a lot of things... and it might serve the purpose of letting us contemplate all of them.

There is not just medicine, there is a world out there... Medicine is not just a science, it is an art...Art brings people together, and can carry messages through cultures and times...Art can be a very powerful healing tool, and is often used in therapy....Medical students need to take some time for art, they can be artists, spectators, or both...

.... All of those could be possible reasons to pick such a theme. I will let you pick yours and discover the others by flipping the pages of this publication. I hope you all take a moment to admire art, create some and value it.

I am going to add that, often, artists don’t have the salaries doctors do, make sure you support the arts.

Hugs to you all,Gen

FroM our RC

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Good day, America! I hope that my story will allow you to learn more about me. As a 7th year medical student, I would be considered a doctor already in many countries, but the 7th year of medical studies in my country is the most stressful yet most wonderful year. For this reason, I am taking advantage of these remaining five months as I approach my graduation.

People often consider Arts and Medicine as separate entities, but I believe that they go hand-in-hand. I have been taught that medicine is not an art, but that arts can be medicine. Art is the most simple and deep expression of self-being. On a personal note, I feel that I have been an artist for much longer than I have been involved in medicine.

When I was ten years old, I registered for my first summer painting class, which I continued until I was seventeen years old! Now, oil painting is part of my life. I paint what I dream, and sometimes dream what I paint.

When I was eleven years old, I started acting classes, which I continued for four years. I played any role that they gave me, even if I was selected as a chair or a tree. The only thing that mattered was that I was on stage. However, acting was just a small part of the performance I wanted to do. About six years ago, clown therapy knocked on my “door” (email inbox).

One of my fellow classmates, best friend and IFMSA member asked me, “Have you seen these clowns in Italy?” He was referring to “SMILE X,” an IFMSA project which brings medical students to patients in a real way. “SMILE X” illustrated the value of clown therapy. This was not medical or pharmaceutical therapy. Of course, I immediately thought, “How can I be a clown?” The answer: Just be a clown!

Now, I have discovered my “inner clown,” which is not just funny or colorful, but the REAL ME. The act of being a clown is not only about making jokes or funny gestures, but also sharing your positive energy with another individual.

Remember, love can heal. Being an artist does not require seven years of medical knowledge, four years of medical practice or just the ability to diagnose disease. Not only can art complement your life, but also can provide further inspiration, which may not always be provided in medical school. You can spread art in everything you do! Color your words or dance and listen to music while you walk. Consider your work as a masterpiece, which does not have to be perfect, but should represent your energy and spirit!

Fiorella BarbagelataRC Americas 2008-2010IFMSA Perú President 2007-2009

Arts and Medicine

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Narrao

Era além de uma vez, de primeira e outras tantas que se encontravam margeantes ao espelho d’água, não sabiam se rio formava, mas tinham certeza de que água era. Moravam ali, após todos os oásis de centeios, palha seca, e árvores não pouco amarelas. Trilhavam as tardes à miragem do curso e cheiro fresco de escassa água, ardente em solo tão feio, para brincarem, enquanto os pais no plantio roçavam.

Sabiam apenas “criançadamente”, que, ao sol vermelho esconder-se na terra poente, era vez de partir para a casa; e, pular e brincar, na próxima aurora, era só começar...

Na vila tudo diferente era: os meninos para os estudos iam, porém a mulheres para além da porta de casa não passavam. E assim se fez, na aurora seguinte não se puderam ver, a escola começara e a menina com a mãe sulcava a terra para a colheita.

Viam-se, então, de vez em vez no mesmo riacho, aos pés de centeios, contudo, já não pulavam ou brincavam como outrora, a idade jovem chegara, e, o menino repassava o que aprendia para a amiga desde a infância estimada.

Assim ele decidiu, depois de ouvir uma conversa dos pais da aldeia: “pois são submissas, que da costela a mulher fora feita, e por isso é renegada”. Enraivecido com tamanha asneira paleozóica, afirmou mudar, revolucionar essa estrutura tão mal ordenada.

Logo, à medida que os calos nas mãos dela formavam, na escola o menino brilhava; e, empenhados, em alguns meses, ambos escreviam e entendiam paulatinamente as várias letras que juntos decifravam.

Todavia, tamanha era sua arte que de escola o menino precisara trocar, já não conseguiria mais enganar os seus pais; assim, emudecida notícia, segredo fez por guardar, e como última vez mestre, Narciso ele decidiu explicar.

A tarde era nublada, a chuva dava o ar de cair, porém o sol iluminava ambas as faces no meio do gigante espelho d’água... Ela compreendia o que ouvia; ele se confundia com o que enxergava - procurava narciso, quando na verdade, o mais belo era nela que encontrava.

A brisa quente do cerrado já esvoaçava seus cabelos, duas gotas logo caíram, uma da chuva, outra de um sentimento não mais novo, no entanto recém descoberto. Assim, no ímpeto do trovejar, o menino a abraçou forte e ternamente, como se o fim dos mundos fosse agora e a morte fosse o momento. Disse o segredo amargamente guardado, e, com os corações encharcados, com um beijo selaram os seus dois sentimentos mais nobres e tão velhos amigos.

Foi assim, então, que na próxima aurora, ela ouvira a porta de um carro bater, e mais rápido que seus pés conseguiam correr, ouviu por seu nome alguém gritar. Já não podia algo fazer, além de junto com o seu coração, seus olhos chorar. Chegou correndo junto a sua cama, com uma rosa, pôs-se uma carta a ler, era enfim, outro ensinamento do menino, e que sua mulher deveria por saber toda uma geração mudar: “Deus não fez a mulher nem da cabeça, para não ser superior, nem dos pés, para não ser inferior ao homem, mas sim a fez da sua costela para que ela fique sempre ao lado do seu coração”.

Icaro Grandeso,IFMSA - Brazil

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Narrao (translation)

Once upon more than a time, the first and many others found along the water mirror, they didn’t know whether a river it formed, but were sure that it was water. They lived there, past all the oases of rye, dry straw, and trees not lightly yellow. They trod the afternoons by the sight and scent of fresh, scarce water burning on such ugly ground, to play while the parents skimmed the plantation.

They only “childly” knew that, by the red sun set in the earth, it was time to head home; and jumping and playing, by next dawn, was a matter of starting...

At the village everything was different: the boys went to studies, but the women beyond the home door wouldn’t pass. And this way it happened, by the next dawn they did not see each other, school had begun and the girl with her mother grooved the land for the harvest.

They saw each other, then, once every while by the same stream, at the feet of the rye, however, they would not play like before anymore, the young age had come, and the boy passed what he had learned to the girl friend since early loved.

He decided after hearing a talk of the fathers of the village: “they are submissive, because from the rib were made, and are renegaded therefore”. Angry by such paleozoic nonsense, he affirmed to make change, revolutionize such badly ordered structure.

So, as the calluses formed on her hand, at school the boy shone; and, commited, in a few months, both would write and understand gradually the many letters they deciphered together.

However, so great was his art of learning in school that the boy had to had changed, he couldn’t fool his parents anymore; so, he muted the news, kept it secret, and one last time a master, Narcissus he decided to explain.

The afternoon was cloudy, rain showed will of falling, but the sun illuminated both faces in the middle of the giant mirror of water... He comprehended what he heard, he was confused with what he saw -- he looked for Narcissus, when, in fact, the most beautiful resided on her.

The warm breeze of the cerrado already fluttered his hair, two drops soon fell, one of rain, one of feeling not anymore new, but newly discovered. This way, at the impetus of the thunder, the boy hug her tightly and tenderly, like the end of the worlds was now and death was at the moment. He revealed the secret bitterly kept, and both, with hearts drenched, with a kiss sealed their two most noble and old friend sentiments.

This way, the next dawn, she heard the door of a car slang, and faster than her feet could run, heard someone yelling her name. She couldn’t do anything no more, beyond, along with her heart, her eyes weep. She ran to her bed, there stood a rose with a letter, it was, lastly, another teaching from the boy, that his wife would know for whole a generation to change: “God didn’t make woman nor from the head, to be not superior, nor from the feet, to be not inferior than man, but rather from his rib, for her to be forever by his heart.”

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Sensibilizarte was born in 2007 when two medical students, Rodrigo Aralios, former president and Marina Papa Penteado, former NPO for IFMSA-

Brazil, inspired by the work of Patch Adams, created a project that aimed to improve the methodology of Clown therapy to include other artistic modes of play such as Storytelling and Music.

More people got interested in working to deploy this new project, but they felt as though something was missing.

Then came the idea: why do we not have crafts? And indeed, this was the piece that was missing to make the project complete. Then, in this unusual way, the Crafts modality appeared in Sensibilizarte.

The project was put into practice in Brazil, and since then has not stopped growing. We make periodic visits to patients in health services in our communities. Every week, at least two modalities visit the hospital, one to visit pediatrics and the other to the adult ward.

Currently, there are over 150 students in three different cities working on this project, with the support of teachers, actors, musicians and experts in medical humanization. We have not only medical, but also nursing, psychology, pharmacy, dentistry and physiotherapy students. Still, there are Colleges interested in implementing Sensibilizarte.

Each modality brings a new collection of positive results and an even greater range of resources, and also allows the volunteer to choose the mode that best fits their personal skills. Thus, the very health professional’s quality of life is improved with this project and occupational drawbacks such as burn-outs are prevented.

Born from the inspiration of two people, Sensibilizarte now counts in with over 200 students. On its 4th anniversary, the project’s volunteers approached more than 10,000 people, allowing us to reap countless benefits and imbuing the participants and patients with a feeling of happiness and kindness. Working with humanization is very rewarding! It’s great to bring moments of joy to patients and it is also a benefit the volunteers; who become more humane and empathetic. Surely, we will be better professionals.

Gabriela Moreira

HuManization THrouGH Art

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Reproduction of the photograph “A San woman enjoys a home-made pipe in Sesfontein, Namibia” by Mitch Reardon. Acrylic on canvas, 8X10.

By: Fanyi Meng, CFMS - Canada

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Gallery

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“Holding life” by Ramón Llorente, FEVESOCEM Venezuela

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“Horses”Photo by

Alejandra RomeroIFMSA - Mexico

“A strong family bond always binds

each other in harmony”Photo by

Jatinder NarangIFMSA - Grenada

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“Ambulance” in Belize. Photo by John Booth, CFMS - Canada

“Chepe” a train that crosses one of the most beautifull mountain rage in Creel Chihuaha, México.Photo by Alejandra Romero, IFMSA - Mexico

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A Tarahumara woman dressed in traditional clothes. Tarahumaras live in the mountains and their tribe is one of the oldest and most representative of Creel Chihuahua, they work by selling

handicrafts to tourists.Photo by Alejandra Romero, IFMSA - Mexico

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“La alegría de estar vivo”.Photo by Gabriela Moreira, IFMSA - Brazil

“Fata ignota”Where in life is she

carrying that burden?Photo by

Jimmy CampanaIFMSA - Perú

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“Of this generation”. Anonymous, CFMS - Canada

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Here I go again. With Cortázar in my hands.Walking with my headphones as one needs a good

soundtrack if one wants to write a good story.

So, here I go with the wind on my face and ideas overflowing by my ears. Preferring to watch and not to

read.

Wondered by the city, which is a giant entity with which we are in symbiosis.

Feeling this strange gladness while watching the volcano from any place, that reminds me where I am.

Dealing with the political advertising between my eyelashes and, like everybody, the prices stuck in the

palate.

Because we are creatures of the city.

The cars. The piles of garbage. The bypasses. The trees that no one looks at. The blackened leaves of the trees that no one looks at. The sadness that flows like a dense

smoke, gray, of these trees, on the avenues and that we’re all breathing.

Everybody is too busy, walking, walking.

Graffiti on the walls which I copy in my hippocampus, sometimes because I want to, and sometimes because it is

inevitable.

The sound of my footsteps on the sidewalk. My heart beats to the rhythm of the waltz that we all look like

dancing, because we are creatures of the city.

There are no dragonflies, but there are helicopters. There are no stars, but there are lights on the top of the

buildings. Pedestrians versus cars.

The pulse of the city. Life versus life. Garbage in the streets. Garbage in our hands. Garbage in our minds.

Garbage everywhere.

And you can’t stop because then you would be out of place. The light of the traffic lights, which changes the color of my pupils. The smog that sticks in my hair,

impregnating itself as nostalgia.

And cloudy days like today, charming.

Citizen (By luz revolledo, iFMsa - Perú)

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In Montreal University, there is a tradition in which second year medical students create a play to fund for the prom at the end of the preclinical years. This is why I and 21 other med students from my promotion did theatre together last January. We did a French play called ‘’Musée haut, Musée bas’’ (Museum up, Museum down) of Jean-Michel Ribes.

It is an absurd play about all the funny conversation or cogitation that you can have in a museum. It was a great mean of expression, but also a great way to have fun and to do something else other than medicine.

Nobody in my class was an actor and I wasn’t expecting much talent in drama from those med students. We had a huge success, so much that we’ve been sold out for 3 representations out of 4. Our family, friends, teachers and directors were really impressed by all the time and work we put in that project.

For me, it was a great way of doing art but also to share and to learn more about my future colleagues. After 6 months of rehearsals together, we have a lot of memories and funny stories to share. It is an experience that I recommend to everybody!

Anne-Sophie Thommeret-Carrière

Med students By day, Actors By niGHt!

Is it cold what I feel? Is it warmth what I feel? Can you really feel, or is it just the need to feel that makes your mind trick your body and brain?Sometimes I feel like jumping, sometimes I feel like crying, but why is one question I haven’t been able to answer… What are you really feeling, what are you really experimenting? Is it just someone else’s thoughts? Do we really have hopes, dreams, or memories at all; or are we just a building built with crap every person surrounding us gives us or throws to us?Anyway, why do we spend time thinking about this if we’re never finding the answer? I mean, even Artistoteles, Socrates, Kant gave it a shot and stopped wasting time because they realized that the question had no answer whatsoever… is living being awake, being able to walk, eat, having vitals? Are we supposed to believe that we exist only because we’re thinking about it? If that’s true, do we really want to exist? But what is it that keeps us from ending this? I realized that we live because of others, that we’re nothing without the others; and the thing is that sometimes we want to be alone and sometimes no one wants to be with us; maybe I’m kidding myself, maybe I’m not, but if we can’t fool ourselves, then what do we have to do to stay existing?I just remembered something…this phrase has been with me the whole day… “You once said we’d meet again…I need you now the way I needed you then”.

Daniel Tobón García

Is it cold wHat I Feel?

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