The Muse-Issue 3 (Spring 2016)

ISSUE 3 • SPRING 2016

Cover art by Adhora Mir

ContentsFrom the Editor

One Last Lesson

ACLs and Depressive Spells

Q&A with Philip B. Berger, MD

Objecting the Objective

Emergency First Response Team Interview Series:

Aleksander Andrijevic

Over Dragonfruit

Experiences with Peer Support: SHEC

Labouring

Smiling Over Sickness Interviews

Opportunities with HASSA

Staff

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FROM THE EDITOR

(Photo courtesy of Irina Sverdlichenko)

Dear reader,

Welcome to third issue of The Muse, the last of the 2015-2016 academic year. Over the course of the year, we have been working extensively to reach out to the community and to broaden the scope of the perspec-tives that we share. We’ve been fortunate to receive enthusiastic responses to our outreach, enabling us to put forth this issue to your hands.

Our first opinion piece debuts in this issue. University of Ottawa medical student Kayla Simms, founder of the medical humanities-driven HEAL blog, discuss-es her opinion of the detrimental role of evaluating the person as a competency in an objectives-driven medical curriculum. And in light of the refugee crisis dominating headlines worldwide, we are bringing you a perspective on refugee health issues from Dr. Peter Berger, Medical Director of the Inner City Health Pro-gram at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto.

In this issue, we are also introducing our very first patient spotlight—Bachelor of Heath Sciences stu-dent Eric Mauti chronicles the ACL injury that he sus-tained during a football game and the challenges he faced along his road to recovery.

Turning our attention close to home, we are spotlight-ing the stories of various groups across McMaster Uni-versity’s campus. In this issue, we are featuring the subcommittee coordinators of the McMaster chapter of Smiling over Sickness, Student Health Education Centre volunteers, and members of the Health, Aging, and Society Student Association.

These are but a few of the stories that we’re leaving with you for the next few months as we regroup and plan ahead for the next publishing year. As always, we hope that they resonate with you until we are able to connect with you once more. In the meantime, we are excited to be in the process of developing multifaceted new ways of engaging with the medical humanities.

Part of this will entail collaboration with other like-minded groups. To that effect, I’d like to point out one of the many wonderful initiatives in the medical humanities that have emerged over the course of the year. One such example is the inaugural A Palpable Thrill conference hosted by the Humanities in Medi-cine Interest Group from McMaster University’s Fac-ulty of Medicine. It will be an opportunity to transcend a purely scientific ideology with respect to healthcare by celebrating the role of narrative, the fine arts, and critical theory in healing. Conferences concerning the medical sciences are quite common; events engaging the medical humanities not nearly so. We will be there and hope to see you there, too.

Until then,

Anna GoshuaEditor-In-Chief

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THE MUSE • SPRING 2016

By Dr. Pranay Sinhainternal MeDiCine

“Promise you won’t be an ass.”

Sudesna eyed me suspiciously. I couldn’t really blame her. As a third year medical student, I had learned plenty of the science but ignored most of the art. With television’s disagreeable Dr. House as my patron saint, I was an intellectual bully with a fondness for sarcasm and no patience for “mushy stuff.” I hogged the spotlight in class and called people morons when they didn’t know about Scedosporium apiospermum. Wasn’t it elementary? Over dinner, Sudesna, my classmate, told me about Sarah Walsh, a 23-year-old girl with a history of rare brain tumors who was hospitalized for a weak right hand and difficulty swallowing. Sudesna knew I’d be interested in Sarah’s case, but feared my boorishness.

“Fine...I’ll try.”

When Sudesna and I visited Sarah the following morning, I was struck by her dense brown curly hair that tumbled down her head onto her shoulders and then disappeared under an autumnal patchwork blanket. Her bountiful curls framed a square face with eyeglasses that reminded me of Liz Lemon

from 30 Rock. Behind the glasses, her blue eyes glittered with intelligence. Instead of the typical sterile hush of hospital rooms, there was a jolly ambiance reminiscent ofugly sweater Christmas parties. Sarah’s parents, brother, and three sisters emitted quips and giggles without warning. She squinted at us for a lingering moment and decided that we could join her ugly sweater party.

Sudesna had Sarah’s latest CT scan results which showed a lesion in her brainstem. The possibilities included scary things like cancer and infection. Most people, when faced with such information, ask for their life expectancy. Instead, Sarah sternly told us not to prognosticate because she was determined to “beat” whatever it was, finish college, have three kids, and change the world. She had surmounted brain tumors before and would do so again. All we could say was: “Yes, ma’am.”

I happened to be on my neurosurgery clerkship, and so I became involved in Sarah’s care. A biopsy was planned to demystify the shadow in her brainstem. Most people get understandably nervous about needles in their brains. Instead, Sarah asked about our

“Promise you won’t be an ass.”

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“No.”

“It just seems like a HAIR-brained request...see what I did there?”

“Shut up.”

I was being an ass.

The next day, just before Sarah’s eyes fluttered closed on the surgical table, she charged me with guarding her hair. She needn’t have worried. The surgeon parted her hair with precision using a comb and widened the parting by just a few millimeters. As the biopsy proceeded, I mulled over Sarah’s preoccupation with her hair.

It struck me that disease attacks our identities in addition to our bodies. Appearances are the first to go. Influenza was the only debilitating force that could keep my dad, an army Colonel who usually sustained a spotless face, from shaving daily. Hobbies begin feeling like chores. Cricket was my religion as a boy—my fervor for the sport was only dulled once during

plans for her hair.

The neurosurgeons were confused: “Hair? What do you mean hair?”

With a piercing look, she made parallel lines with her hand. The hand on top was only one inch above from the bottom hand. She wiggled the hand on top: “This is how much I value my brain.” Then she jiggled her lower hand: “and this is how much I care about my hair.” She only consented to the procedure after we promised that minimum hair and blood would be shed.

I later complained to Sudesna: “Sudesna, it’s HAIR...it grows back!”

“Pranay, think about what it means to her.”

“You mean it’s not just vestigial keratinaceous biomaterial?”

a spell of jaundice. In illness, our professional and personal titles— ‘lawyer’, ‘dad’, ‘artist’—are replaced by a nondescript one: ‘patient.’ Hospitals exacerbate matters by giving patients nondescript gowns that capriciously cover their bottoms and referring to them as “brainstem lesion lady “ or “twenty-three-year-old female.” We rob fascinating people of their personhood. I felt proud of Sarah for defying this routine dehumanization.

My reverie broke when I was handed the biopsy of Sarah’s brainstem to rush to the lab where the pathologist made a grim pronouncement: glioma. My heart suddenly became a thousand pounds heavier—Sarah had a life expectancy of 10 months.

The biopsy left herwith a full head of hair, but a slurred voice and a limp right hand. Nevertheless, she was smiling—albeit crookedly. I felt crestfallen. Was this diagnosis, one that we were powerless against, worth it? She still forbade any prognostication so I hid my foreboding with criminally terrible jokes.

“How do you make holy water? Take tap water and boil the hell out of it.”

Sarah’s sisters shared their own jokes and her phlegmatic father contributed occasional grunts, but I know they could see my heartache as I could see theirs.

She was discharged the next day. Later, she wrote me an email: “Thank you for the smiles. I have many things to do in this life and many years to do them. Don’t equate me with those kids on St. Jude’s late at night!”

I promised I wouldn’t.

Five months later, she returned for palliative radiation. The ugly sweater party was on again in her room. But this time, Sarah looked shrunken, her facial droop was worse, and she now wore a purple patch on her left eye to ward off double vision. She couldn’t speak anymore, but communicated tenaciously by pointing to letters on a chart. As I surveyed the ravages of her cancer, I noted with quiet satisfaction that it had not touched her prized curls. Somehow, her hair magnified her presence as if camouflaging the gauntness of

“Pranay, think about what it means to her.”

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“You don’t have to wait to change the

world. You’ve already changed me.”

her face. I still couldn’t decide if her tresses reminded me more of Titian’s Venus or Botticelli’s.

Sarah dragged her skeletal left hand over her laminated letter chart: “I know you believe in me. Will I make it?” The Walshes, who were standing by, looked grave. The laughter drifted off and the underlying tension was unveiled. She had asked this question over and over to her family and her doctors as the tumor’s toll became apparent. The only answer she allowed was “Yes.”

I felt the never-comfortable sensation of a dozen eyes fixed on me, urging me to say “the right thing.” But this wasn’t a time for platitudes.

“I don’t know if you’ll make it to college, to motherhood, or even to tomorrow.”

She was still listening.

“And you simply can’t sacrifice the time you do have with your amazing family at the altar of a flickering future!”

Like many young people, the prospect of dying without a legacy scared me. There has to be a point to even the shortest lives, right?

“You don’t have to wait to change the world. You’ve already changed me. From you, I have learned the importance of doing my job with love, humor, and a healthy respect of hairstyles. I will always remember you.” We hugged and my right shoulder felt damp. She managed to grin for a photo with me afterwards.

We hugged. After we pulled away, I could feel that my right shoulder was damp.

One month later, Sarah’s sister emailed me: “Early this morning, just after midnight, as the snow began to fall outside, Sarah stormed heaven with a skip to her step.”

Every so often, I see girls with curls that remind me of her. I always smile with the satisfaction of a fulfilled promise: I’m no longer an ass.

“This wasn’t a time for platitudes.”

Dr. Pranay Sinha is a second year resident physician at Yale-New Haven Hospital. As a phy-sician, he is interested in three things. First, he wants to pursue clinical excellence in general medicine and infectious diseases with a special focus on the physical exam and clinical rea-soning. He finds great fulfillment in sharing the joy of clinical medicine with medical students. Second, he intends to advocate for medically underserved populations, with a particular em-phasis on the unfortunate patients suffering from drug resistant tuberculosis. Third, he hopes to bridge the ever-widening chasm of jargon that separates physicians from lay-persons and use his pen (or rather his keyboard) to educate, advocate, and amuse.

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I am not sure if I was the only one who felt this, but I always felt as if I was simply just a robotic cyborg as a kid. No matter how much I learned about bones and growing, I always thought that there was a possibility that I was made of metal rods and tubes. After seeing my brother break his arm and my relatives undergo surgeries while I remained unscathed as a young boy, I used to believe that I was invincible.

However, as time passed, I grew older and became less delusional. Especially after playing contact sports, I was a little less confident that I was never going to be injured. In the midst of the football season in twelfth grade, I met with the school priest to talk about the upcoming rugby season. He warned me not to get injured before the season

started. However, everything came to a halt the following football weekend. During a game in Ottawa, I collided with a fellow teammate mid-air as we both went for an interception. Luckily for him, he avoided injury by running directly into my knee. Before I hit the ground I could feel a sharp stinging pain that felt like either pincers, or a vice grip, compressing the sides of my knee. I knew it was something worse than a fracture, but I still hobbled off the field with my own strength to try and convince myself that it would be okay.

A week and some softball-sized swelling later, I had an MRI and was told that I would have to undergo surgery to replace my torn ACL - a small piece from my patellar tendon would be screwed into my femur and tibia

as a replacement ACL. It seemed like an interesting procedure, but I wasn’t too excited about where the surgery would be taking place..

Now, anyone who’s familiar with Toronto has probably heard of the new Humber River Regional Hospital that just opened. State of the art, computerized– everything that the system’s old hospitals lacked. I pitied anyone who had to drive by them, let alone enter any of them, and I wasn’t too excited that my surgery was going to take place at their old Church street site. Fears of infection and amputation set in, and I was a bit of a nervous wreck going in. I got into the skimpy hospital gown, and was stabbed twice by a nurse who could not locate my veins. Then the surgeon visited, and signed my knee as if he was creating a

aCls and Depressive Spells by Eric [email protected]

aCls and Depressive Spells 7


masterpiece in reverse. From there, I walked into the OR, made myself comfy, and was immediately put to sleep after administration of the anesthetic.

When I awoke, I found my knee all bandaged up. I stretched my head to look at my O2 saturation: 86. It seemed alright, until a nurse came over and got mad at me for not breathing enough. After experiencing some post-operative nausea from the anesthetic, I was released, unable to feel anything in my leg due to a femoral nerve block. The first night was uneventful, and the next day I went straight to physiotherapy. As the anesthetic began to wear off, the pain began to intensify. To counter it, I was prescribed some percocets, and let me tell you, oxycodone is a wonderful drug.

Frequent physiotherapy visits coupled with daily exercise followed for a couple of months, and my knee started

to feel normal again. But that’s when things started to buckle. Overconfidence set in, and heading into first year of university didn’t help my situation either. Plagued with the first year anxiety of wanting to join clubs, I joined the dragon boating team. Weekly workouts saw me pushing my knee hard, and wanting to impress, I pushed the advice that my surgeon and therapists had given me to the back of my mind. Everything was going well, until one day in late November, I felt a sharp pain in my knee as I was walking upstairs, nearly akin to the original injury. Real fear set in. I had put in work for over a year, and now with one step, I was one step closer to becoming a failed ACL patient.

Self-described as a guy with stable and non-polarizing emotions, I could not fathom the mental pit of confusion that was my mind: a constant rhythm of actions like a programmed

algorithm, checking and searching Pubmed for answers to my pain. Looking at the same statistics over and over again for ACL revision surgeries, trying to interpret them differently each time, vying to find a glimmer of hope in my predicament. It went on for weeks, until I finally met with my surgeon, who found nothing wrong. A subsequent MRI and second opinion yielded the same results. Yet to this day, I still feel that something is not right, and having every resource dismissing my symptoms has broken my confidence.

Since then, I have felt less of everything. Less emotion and less care, a mindless being not too different from a machine. Perhaps that is what I have become– a representation of my childhood fears. Now with two screws in my knee, I am not that far off.

“I always felt as if I was simply just a robotic cyborg as a kid.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR - Eric is currently in his second year of the Bachelor of Health Sciences program. Despite not being able to participate currently, he remains an avid fan of sport, from baseball to Formula One. In his spare time, Eric enjoys kayaking, and is contemplating a trip across Lake Ontario this summer. He hopes to one day know the true meaning of inquiry, and works towards his goal by questioning a lot of things, including his sanity.

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What does a typical day consist of in

your medical practice?My medical practice consists largely of people with HIV/AIDS, patients being treat-ed with methadone for ad-diction, many with chronic illnesses, and a dispropor-tionate number of people of low socioeconomic status, including refugees and im-migrants.

What is the role of the healthcare provider with patients that are so-cially troubled?There’s a role to intervene on the patient’s behalf and secure what the patient needs. This can take the form of a CT scan, a special-ist appointment or a prop-erly completed welfare form so as to maximize their in-come. Doctors also provide resources, especially to poor people, so that they can learn about getting increased tax benefits. That encompasses much of what the provider does to try to help a socially troubled patient.

However, a far more critical role for the healthcare pro-vider is to intervene active-ly in the political terrain, in order to change conditions

which affect the lives of many people. This includes fighting for refugee health care rights for example. But it’s especially important to intervene in situations where the individual cannot speak out on their own be-half.

You witnessed the evo-lution of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Toronto in the 1970s. What was that experience like ?Well, this experience ex-tended to not only me but

a small group of doctors in downtown Toronto. We har-kened back to the most tra-ditional and noble features of medicine, which is to be unconditionally available and be kind. That’s all one could do in the early days of the epidemic.

How did you mitigate that sort of emotional impact?I really did not want to think

about it or consider it. The issue was not really my emotional response, but the waves of dying people. And to start wallowing in anguish would have been paralyt-ic. So I would immediately check any tendency to do that. I’m not saying I was unaffected by it.

Going to declare a twen-ty-five year old woman dead, knowing she had been suf-

Q&APhiliP B. Berger, MD

with

Philip B. Berger, MD is Medical Director at Inner City Health Program at St. Michael’s Hos-pital, Toronto and staff physician in the Depart-ment of Family and Community Medicine.

INTERVIEWED BY IRINA SVERDLICHENKO

photo from http://www.stmichaelshospital.com/media/detail.php?source=hospital_news/2014/20141006_hn

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fering for months was hard. But part of being a profes-sional is that you contend with whatever sort of emo-tional response erupts. And I mostly dealt with it by not considering it.

Do you have a particular patient experience that influenced you greatly?I’ve had a fair number ac-tually. One was a refugee claimant, many years back. He had signs of previous tuberculosis, which I fully investigated by having him sent to a lung specialist who cleared him. I submitted his immigration medical exam to become a permanent res-ident, but immigration offi-cials refused to grant perma-nent residency status, saying he needed an investigation of his tuberculosis, which he of course already had.

I was completely exasper-ated, so I sent a letter to Citizenship and Immigra-tion Canada, pointing out that the only diseases they screened for were those af-fecting developing or “non-white” countries, and asked why they weren’t screening for diseases affecting white immigrants. I flat out said that I considered their pro-cess utterly racist.

I got back this angry, nasty, ferocious response from a doctor working at the agency who was outraged at the al-legation. I wrote back: Dear anonymous doctor, if you’re not prepared to take this fur-ther, I will write the Minister of Citizenship and Immigra-tion in order to secure per-manent residency status for my patient.

They granted the papers days later. This patient ex-perience influenced me to confront the government head-on over what I consid-ered a prejudicial screening process that was interfering with a person’s life.

The second experience that deeply influenced me was regarding a patient of mine, several years back. She was a heroin addict, paralyzed from the waist-down, and dying of AIDS. The main care I provided her was pain control. It worked effectively actually. Twenty-four hours before she died I got a phone call from her boyfriend who was caring for her. He was also a heroin addict.

He informed me that her pain had suddenly gone out-of-control. In fact, I could hear her screeching in the background with pain. I phoned the head of pallia-tive care and they went to her place to put her in a Phe-nobarbital-induced coma. I later found out that a tem-porary nurse who had been assigned to her case had mistakenly calibrated the machine to administer only 1% of the necessary pain dose.

Eventually, they recalibrat-ed the medication proper-ly and her pain was con-trolled. I went to declare her dead later that day , and she was lying on her side with her long hair to the side. I’m not normally a mushy guy, but there was this look of re-lief and peace on her face.

I was outraged though and I wrote a letter to the head of

homecare in Toronto. In a hyperbolic fashion, I ended the letter with: She went to her death screaming with a pain that burned her to her soul.

They changed the homecare policy after this case.

You co-founded Canadi-an Doctors for Refugee Care. How do you think the healthcare system will need to adapt in or-der to accommodate the incoming refugees?Firstly, there are different types of refugees, but as far as the Syrian refugees go, these are Government-As-sisted Refugees who are not being affected by the cuts made to the Interim Federal Health program by the Con-servatives in 2012.

They still maintain coverage for hospital services, med-ication, dental, vision care, prostheses, counselling, and physiotherapy. However, the privately-sponsored ref-ugees (PSRs) did lose that coverage and still remain largely without coverage.

They maintain coverage for doctors and hospital ser-vices, but if they’re 19 or older and not pregnant, they don’t have coverage in any of the areas I just described. So one aspect of what the cur-rent government has to do is immediately restore full coverage to all refugees and refugee-claimants, includ-ing PSRs. Otherwise, all the medical costs for PSRs will fall on sponsoring groups.

(Note: Since this interview was conducted the new Lib-

eral Government announced that Syrian PSRs will receive full IFH coverage. Effective April 1, 2016 all refugees and refugee claimants will re-ceive full IFH coverage).

Secondly, the government has to commit to communi-cating the restored coverage in simple, brief, and unam-biguous terms in order to simplify the whole process. Right now, many walk-in-clinics and other doctor’s offices are not taking refu-gees, even those who have coverage, because they don’t understand the complicated system.

Thirdly, there are enough physicians of goodwill across the country who can cope with an influx of refugees when they do start arriving. The capacity certainly exists.

So you’re exposed to a really diverse group of people in your practice. How has your exposure to this unique popula-tion influenced your views on the current healthcare system?It’s profoundly influenced my views. If one gazes be-yond the individual patient in a doctor’s office, it be-comes evident what con-ditions are affecting their health, whether those are economic, political, legal, human rights, or social per-ceptions as with HIV/AIDS. So it’s through the patients that I’ve been taught about much broader issues that affect them and many other people like them.

Q&a with Philip B. Berger, MD. 10


Objecting the Objective 11


artistSama anvari

Objecting the Objectiveby Kayla Simms

aCKNOWLEDGEMENts: mr. martin Graves, B.a. (English), University of Ottawa

In a program overloaded with in-formation and essential skills,

objectives assist medical students in the self-directed triage of im-perative take-home points and ap-plicable clinical knowledge. From weekly small group sessions during pre-clerkship years to daily clinical encounters in clerkship, objectives present a framework for continuous self-assessment as well as the for-mal examination of medical train-ees. In Canada, the most widely-ac-cepted framework of objectives for medical education and competency is presented by the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada (RCPSC) and known simply as Can-MEDS1.

Developed in response to a wide-ly-cited need to provide medical trainees with a relevant frame-work with which to address evolv-ing health concerns2, CanMEDS is said to represent the “big picture” of medical education, assessment, and certification. In 1998, Educat-ing Physicians for a Future Ontar-

io (EPFO) conducted a five-year collaborative project in hopes of standardizing resident evaluation3. Eight physician competencies were identified and subsequently incor-porated into five participating On-tario MD programs. Enduring four phases of development and refine-ment, the nearly 20-year old RCP-SC CanMEDS framework presents Canadian medical institutions to-day with an objective standard for student assessment and physician competency4. Today’s framework is comprised of seven standards of practice: Medical Expert, Com-municator, Collaborator, Leader, Health Advocate, Scholar, and Pro-fessional1. Despite the explicit re-moval of one of the eight original roles from today’s framework, a few Ontario MD Programs have contin-ued to house the abandoned eighth role: Person.

In a one-size-fits-all curriculum comprised of standardized subsets of professional competencies, the Person role belongs not within this

framework for self-directed per-sonal growth, but as part of a larger model of idealized perfection. The issue is not the role itself, but its incompatibility with an objectified curriculum which lacks the socially negotiated and contextual nature of the role’s definition. Objectives certainly help to formu-late a simplistic means by which students may tangibly assess gaps in their knowledge. However, their biggest flaw with respect to mean-ingful education is due to their as-sociation with a Pass/Fail grading system (or as medical students like to say, “P=MD”). A grade devoid of increasing value above a specif-ic threshold empowers students to place collegiality above competi-tion. This also means that within a Pass/Fail system, objectives ulti-mately define the perimeter of fail-ure and non-excellence. The detri-ment to medical students develops within the context of the curricu-lum’s perceived dichotomy of the Person role, where there is now an

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opportunity to not only “Pass” as a Person, but also to “Fail”. Where objectives define minimally ac-ceptable levels of competence, they can provide pertinent guidance to ensure that the integrity and pro-visions of the medical professional are maintained. Ultimately, it is the fine line between a “P” and an “F” that forms the premise of students’ engagement with curriculum ob-jectives; whereby the fear of failure supersedes the drive to excel.

The idea of the Person role, as both a concept and a competency, is not inherently debilitating in the process of fostering a capable physician. When isolated from the medical school curriculum and the supposed measurable standards of competence, the Person role en-courages the exam-driven medical student to take time for personal development and to focus on those individualized activities that make for a well-balanced student. With-in the confines of formal education, however, the Person role presents a counterintuitive outcome for the medical trainee. When combined with competen-cy-based education and objective standards of supposed failure, the Person role – and the opportunity to explore individual growth – be-comes halted in the face of bench-mark assessments. The competent medical trainee becomes defined by statutes of enablement, giv-ing rise to students who forgo the

Person they once were (or could have been) in order to meet the measurable standard and receive a passing grade. To fully succumb to the normalization of educational objectives is to rob future patients of the intangible character traits that could enable medical students to develop into outstanding physi-cians.

Our best weapon against the well-documented loss of self and cynicism which medical train-ees experience as they progress through the curriculum is to cre-ate a culturally safe environment in which students can explore per-sonal growth without the fear of constant assessment and failure. Encouraging medical students to nurture their individual identities through self-reflective practice is important, but requires a system that is void of concrete expecta-tions or gold standards. Reducing the role of the Person to accom-pany the components of training which are comprised of reproduc-ible measurements and checklists does not aid in the development of individuality, but of empty compe-tency dichotomized between a “P” and an “F”. If to “Pass” as a Per-son requires meeting prescribed conventions marked by a constant pressure to perform, then perhaps failing this competency highlights the true objective of personal suc-cess.

1. Frank, JR. The CanMEDS 2005 physician competency framework. Better standards [Inter-net]. Ottawa(ON): The Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada; 2005 Mar [cit-ed 2015 Feb 26]. Available from: http://www.royalcollege.ca/portal/page/por-tal/rc/canmeds/resources/publications

2. Neufeld VR, Maudsley RF, Pickering RJ, et al. Educating future physicians for Ontario. Acad Med. 1998;73(11): 1133-48.

3. Maudsley RF, Wilson DR, Neufeld VR, et al. Educating future physicians for Ontario: phase II. Acad Med. 2000;75(2): 113-26.

4. Wear D, Zarconi J, Garden R. Disorder-ly conduct: Calling out the hidden curricu-lum(s) of professionalism. In: Hafferty FW, O’Donnell JF, eds. The Hidden Curriculum in Health Pro-fessional Education. Lebanon, NH: Dartmouth College Press; 2015. 63-72

References

aBOUt the aUthOr - Kayla Simms is an MD candidate in her third year of studies at the University of Ottawa, with interdisciplinary roots in the University of Guelph’s Arts and Sciences program. She strongly values the healing power of creative exploration, and is the founder of the student-led initiative Humanities Education, Artistic Living (H.E.A.L.); helping to create space in medical education for the health human-ities, as a means of self expression and reflection amongst medical trainees. Kayla is excited to share her passion for Art Therapy with the medical community at McMaster’s “A Palpable Thrill”, and hopes to em-power future clinicians to explore their own vulnerabilities through the process of making art.

emergency First response team interview Series: aleksander andrijevicinterviewed by Samuel Wu and Joon Mun

Sam and Joon: Can you tell us a little bit about how the Emergency First Response Team (EFRT) works in your own words?

Aleksander: EFRT is basically the medical response team on campus. We respond to all medical emergen-cies on campus 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, minus all the breaks in the summer. But basically we’re just a bunch of students that like helping other people. We understand that not every person needs an ambulance - we’re kind of in that middle ground there, where we can help improve emergency medical service response times in the city by going to these calls and determin-ing what kinds of treatments need to be performed and whether or not an ambulance needs to be called. The easiest way to describe it is a little family of people. We all share the same common interests, and a lot of us are driven by a strong passion for healthcare. S&J: You mentioned that many of you are driven by a love of healthcare – what’s one other thing that people don’t really know about EFRT that would be interest-ing for our readers to know? A: Well, to answer a question that we get a lot, we don’t

go hiking. We do carry these massive backpacks that have a bunch of equipment- you basically have to be prepared for any situation that can be thrown at you. But otherwise, the thing that I want future patients to know is that we’re students too. In most cases, we understand what’s going on and they should feel com-fortable giving us information. They should never feel afraid to disclose information or be scared that we’re going to get them into trouble regarding ensitive topics like drugs and alcohol. I’m sure everyone knows that there’s a lot of alcohol consumption on campus. We’re just concerned about their well-being and are simply there to make sure that they’re going to be okay. S&J: What is the most satisfying aspect of your work with EFRT?

A: The most satisfying thing? That’s a hard question!

S&J: Yes, but you can only pick one!

A: Let me think… As cliché as it is, it’s just helping people. To outsiders, it might not seem like a major issue when someone’s done some “minor” harm to themselve.But

eFrt interview Series: aleksander andrijevic

AleksanderAndrijevicMy name is Aleksander Andrijevic. I am a graduate of the Kinesiology pro-gram here at McMaster and am cur-rently finishing my Paramedic Pro-gram at Conestoga College. I’ve been a responder for the EFRT for four years. I was also involved with McMaster Sport Medicine as a Student Therapist for the Men’s Varsity Rugby Team, and with McMaster Intramurals, both as a refer-ee and a game day supervisor.

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to them, it could be the worst pain that they’ve ever ex-perienced; they could be legitimately freaking out, and and it’s rewarding tp be able to just be there for that person in this time of crisis, when they need someone. Maybe even just to talk to, like “things are going to be fine,” talking them through it, making sure they feel comfortable. I like that I am in the role of coming in with a clear head, knowing how I can help this person when they are worried and panicking. S&J: So how many years have you been doing EFRT?

A: This is my fourth year and it’s great. I don’t even go to McMaster anymore! It comes down to the fami-ly environment – it’s just a wonderful experience and it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever done in university. Even though I’m at Conestoga currently, I always like to come back and help out. Actually, I ran into a guy today at the student centre while getting some food. He just stopped by and said, “Thanks for what you do,” because he said no one ever expresses gratitude. And I was like, “Oh, thank you,” and I told him that it’s not hard and it’s not work if you love to do it. S&J: That’s great. It leads into our next question: What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned from being a part of EFRT, especially after four years? A: Oh man! I’ve become more chill, I guess… Not all calls are chaotic but my experiences have definitely taught me how to approach any situation with a clear head and a nice, calm attitude. Being able to think very clearly with all these environmental stressors affecting you… I think that’s crucial. If I think back to myself in first year, compared to now, I’ve grown and become much more relaxed and adaptable. S&J: So I guess that skill has definitely helped you be a better person?

A: Yes. Whenever I encounter a stressful situation, I keep a clear, non-biased head and think about it in as a logical and systematic manner as I can. S&J: Much like how you would approach a patient?

A: Yes.

S&J: You mentioned that you don’t attend McMaster anymore. Where are you now and what are you study-ing?

A: I finished kinesiolog at McMaster, and I’m currently a second year paramedic student at Conestoga College. S&J: And how’s that so far?

A: It’s good! I’ve gone out for some ride-alongs on an ambulance and when I started it I knew that was what I wanted to do, on my first ride out. S&J: Would you say that it’s similar to what you’re doing with EFRT?

A: It’s similar and different. It’s similar in the sense that I understand more of the skills and backgrounds involved. However, the population served is vastly different. In the real world, most patients are elder-ly. So there are conditions you don’t necessarily see in younger patients that prevail in older patients. It’s not that there isn’t necessarily an older population at Mc-Master: we also have a cardiac rehabilitation centre on campus so there’s definitely still a potential for a wide variety of age ranges. However, most of the patients that I’ve helped at McMaster are university studeents under the age of 25. I’m fairly confident that I can han-dle most student cases, at this point! The Conestoga program is teaching me how to approach older patient cases. S&J: So would you say that EFRT has prepared you for your current studies?

A: It definitely has. First of all, it provides very thor-ough training and you are required to obtain various certifications, such as mental health first aid. There’s also a lot of opportunities within the team to expand your horizons. And the team is the reason why I went down this career path. I was in second year kinesiol-ogy wondering what career path I wanted to pursue, confused amongst the many kinesiology students that are set on pursung physiotherapy. I volunteer at the physiotherapy clinic and I have to say that it’s some-thing that I wouldn’t be able to do. Physiotherapists are fantastici and intelligent, but I knew I couldn’t do a nine-to-five job that entails a lot of regularity in terms of the cases you deal with day-to-day. In EFRT, you can come in one shift and not have a call and it could be a bar night, for example, where you’re actually expecting a lot of calls. And then on a Sunday night, or Monday daytime you just get slammed with seven calls. So it’s very hit-or-miss. And the cases are generally different every single time. It keeps you engaged, sort of like a puzzle you have to solve. And that’s what I like about

eFrt interview Series: aleksander andrijevic 15


this type of profession– the lack of predictability. S&J: A new challenge every time?

A: Yes! I need to be challenged. I couldn’t do the same thing over and over again. S&J: Are you driven by that?

A: Definitely. When I don’t know something, I’ll go back and it forces me to look it up, and then broaden my scope of knowledge. S&J: So what’s the best advice you have received? It could be from the team, or a mentor.

A: This is a very difficult question! I guess it would have to be “Do something you really, really like”. Again, it’s very cliché, but like I said to the one guy today, if you like your work it’s not going to be hard to get out of bed ev-ery single day and do this. Same with EFRT shifts. I still live in Hamilton but even though I go to a different school, if an op-portunity were to pop up for me to take a shift, I would take it. It’s not something that I con-sider draining or a bothersome task. I’m surrounded by people that share the same interests, we’re all very friendly, and there is always a very positive atmo-sphere. So it doesn’t even feel like you’re doing anything… it just feels like you’re being a good person and helping others out to the extent that you can. S&J: It seems like a lot of your desire to help others has translated into your work with EFRT.

A: Joining EFRT was undoubtedly one of the best deci-sions I’ve made during my time at McMaster. S&J: Last question: what everyday thing are you bet-ter at than everyone else?

A: Everyday thing? That’s another tough one. I want to say Euchre! We do a lot of that in my break. I guess now that I’m here, I’m a little bit older than the rest of the team, so I feel a little more mature. I feel like I’m good at passing on my experiences and knowledge and wisdom down to the other members and anyone

you may run into. I know there are a lot of people that look up to me, and I like that as well. It’s definitely an honour to have been here for so long and have seen a bunch of different calls and have so many experienc-es under my belt. And again, I love helping others and I love teaching. I teach some first aid here, and some training at EFRT as well. Just sharing knowledge and experiences, I’d say. And since I feel like I’ve re-started my first year now that I’m doing ride-alongs as a para-medeic trainee, when you come here it’s like you’re at the top in terms of knowledge and experience.

S&J: So now you’re a smaller fish in a bigger pond!

A: That’s exactly how I’d put it. S&J: But you’re still a big fish on campus!

A: Yes! S&J: Those are all the ques-tions we have. It has been very nice getting to know you. Do you have anything else you’d like to say or let us know?

A: There are a lot of myths about the team in general and our interactions with the spe-cial constables. What happens is that the special constables at McMaster go to every one of our calls, whether it be a cut, or someone that’s intoxicated, someone has rolled their ankle, or what not… They basically go there to ensure our safety, be-cause I’m sure you’ve seen in-

toxicated people. They’re not always the nicest people, let’s just say. The special constables want to make sure that everyone is safe, both the EFRT responders and the patients. They’re not there to get anyone in trouble. If your roommate gets a ticket for being intoxicated, they’re not going to call EFRT when they’re intoxicat-ed again and that may turn out very poorly. So that’s a common myth. Patients shouldn’t be scared to give us information because ultimately everyone wants to make sure that the person that needs our help ends up getting the help that they need and that they’re safe. That is definitely what I would like for everyone to know.

eFrt interview Series: aleksander andrijevic

“..it’s generally different every single time. It keeps you en-gaged, sort of like a puzzle you have to solve.”

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I had not seen nor spoken to my grandfather in twenty years. I had occasionally written letters correspond-

ing with him during my childhood, but we gradually lost touch during my teenage years. While the rest of my extended family in Vietnam had prescribed to the Western advances in communications technology, connecting via various smartphone apps and instant messaging, my grandfather still stuck to his trusty house phone, calling cards, and snail mail. He lived alone with his dog, walked to the market every day, maintaining his balance with a long bamboo cane, and asked the family to call at the house for dinner instead of having shouting matches through the phone. The only change in the last twenty years was that the riv-er and the canoe we had taken to reach my grandfa-ther’s house was now replaced by a paved road and a four-wheeler – the canoe had sunk in one of the back rivers ten years ago.

After the usual pleasantries and small talk in the front hall of his house that twenty years of absence warrants, my grandfather and I sat down next to each other at the dinner table. My attention was fixated on the insis-tent buzzing of the flies around the buckets of cooked chicken on the table. My grandfather abruptly broke the silence.

“So, grandchild, tell me, do people in Canada buy their burial plots in advance? Are they expensive?”

I was taken aback. Had I heard him correctly? Surely he meant buying a plot of land for building a house. I had not heard these words being used since my grand-mother’s death – nobody I knew spoke about burial plots, tombstones, or coffins in casual conversation. I looked around the table at my uncles, aunts, and cous-ins for clarification.

My cousin cleared her throat and repeated, “He was asking you if people in Canada buy their burial plots in advance.” I told her I understood his question but was making sure I had not misheard him.

“Grandfather, I don’t know. I imagine that they aren’t too expensive though,” I answered. He gave me a pen-sive look and pressed further, “Yes, but I thought that only people who can afford to be buried will buy land to be buried in, while those who can’t afford it probably get cremated, right?” I mumbled a half response and he nodded in agreement, picking up a piece of dragon fruit.

In Vietnam, tombs and graves are situated near the home where those who had died are buried, often in the front garden or in the rice paddies. Altars in the house are filled with black and white portraits of de-ceased loved ones, their half smiles almost coming alive in the flickering light of burning incense, hiding behind porcelain bowls of fresh fruit and rice placed in front of them every memorial day. Chairs at the table are left empty for them to fill at their leisure, if they choose to join the feast during holidays such as the Lu-nar New Year.

After dinner, my grandfather directed the entire family outside to take a family photo among the dragon fruit trees. He showed us the work that was being done on the front of the house. Then he proudly pointed to-wards a large bandstand-like structure in front of the house. Again, as if we were two friends meeting over coffee to discuss politics and the weather, he turned to me and explained that it is the tomb that he and our grandmother are going to be buried in when they die.

Over Dragon Fruit

The conversaTion surrounding deaTh and dying has become more perTinenT wiTh The increase in aging pop-ulaTion. and yeT, in our socieTy, The Topic of deaTh and preparing for deaTh is sTill uncomforTable and difficulT To sTarT. we hear sTories of medicine saving lives and increasing The average life expecTancy, buT rarely do we hear sTories of The acTual dying- despiTe iT being a naTural and ineviTable process. Karen ngo, a firsT year medical sTudenT aT mcmasTer universiTy, offers a unique culTural perspecTive on The Topic ThaT illusTraTes how differenT The conversaTion of deaTh can be in anoTher counTry.

by Karen Ngo

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I joined SHEC because I wanted to learn and I wanted to help. I love to talk and I love to listen. Having im-pacted my academic, social, and personal experience at university, joining SHEC was likely one of the most formative experiences I have engaged in during the last three years. My training in peer support has given me the oppor-tunity to compassionately listen to and support my colleagues. I value peer support as a medium as I of-ten seek support from my friends and peer support-ers of SHEC, and know how therapeutic it can be to talk through what is bothering me. The simple act of expressing it aloud often clarifies the problem for me, gives me new perspectives, and even ideas for solu-tions. Peer support is a space and medium for me to seek relief and resolution that is often very effective. I seek peer support because I find it empowering. Though an incredibly rewarding experience, peer sup-port at SHEC can also be challenging from the per-

spective of the peer supporter. The issues students face are complex and multifaceted with impacts across various domains of life. I engage so deeply and fully in peer support that the stories I hear follow me home. I reflect on my words and my actions, as well as the reactions of my peer. I wonder and question if what I said was correct. I think about my peer supports of-ten and would love to check in, follow up, and help, even after the peer support has finished. The inability to do so is one of the most challenging aspects of being a peer supporter. Moreover, debriefs are challenging because of the very strict confidentiality protocols at SHEC. Nonetheless, being able to listen to and support other students in their challenges is the way that I hope I have made an impact in my school community. This experience has certainly affected me as I know that the skills that I have gained at SHEC have helped me be-come a better student, colleague, leader, and friend.

I had just opened up the SHEC office when a flustered girl walked in, asking for help. She was looking for someone to talk to. We were mutually nervous; neither of us had experienced a peer support session before. I ran though the protocol in my head; invited her to the back and closed the door. I cleared all other thoughts from my head and we sat down in the back room across from each other – two strangers. Despite our lack of familiarity with each other – or perhaps, because of it – she started sharing her personal and painful story with me. Even though I had no credentials, no diplo-ma, and no experience, she placed her trust in me, al-lowing me the privilege of listening to her story. After she left, still a stranger, I realized that my lack of credentials and diploma might very well be a reason why students come in to seek peer support. They feel like they can connect with me as a peer, as a fellow stu-dent traversing through life. My job is to be empathic and listen to what they have to say. If necessary, I can refer them to all of the professional resources on cam-pus and in the city. Peer support is the process of listening to another per-son’s narrative. It demands that I remain non-judge-mental, open-minded, and caring. Peer support is not about giving advice – I am not a counsellor, a psychol-ogist, a doctor, or a therapist – I am merely a peer will-ing to listen to your story. And sometimes that’s what you might just need.

Student healtheducation Centre (SheC)

alexandra Kilian

experiences with Peer Support

Michal Coret

artist: Cathy lu

experiences with Peer Support: SheC18


I was impressed when I started my rotation on Labour and Delivery.

Each of the large private rooms was located on the periphery of the floor with wall-to-wall windows to allow natural light. They also had a jet tub large enough for an expectant mother and a partner among oth-er labour aids. It was a welcoming facility and in the case of an opera-tive delivery, operating rooms were located on the same floor. It was a specialized floor and was spoken highly of to patients by staff during pre-natal visits.

As part of my Obstetrical training, I spent sixteen hours at time on the Labour and Delivery floor night float. These long shifts were felt to give clerks a better impression of residency in the specialty; we would do a week during the block. We would aid in triage assessment and admission of patients, monitoring of labour, and assisting in natu-ral and operative births during the rotation. Due to my gender, I was unfortunately kicked out of a num-ber of rooms. Some I wasn’t even allowed to enter– ‘NO MEN’ clearly written on the dry erase board.

As my rotation came to an end, I re-alized that in those hundred hours, I had never seen a single person use the jet tub or the exercise ball or any other labour aids, despite active in-volvement in many births from ad-

mission to delivery. Most admitted were at a stage that they could no longer use such aids, in many cas-es requiring continuous monitoring or having an epidural placed short-ly after their time in triage. I felt discouraged reflecting on this. For all the potential comforts afforded during labour and delivery, they sat unused. The impressive facilities on this specialized floor proved to be a disappointment.

Later in clerkship, I ran into a res-ident during my night float shifts. Over the course of our conversation, I brought up my concerns about the floor and the unused aids. I was surprised that instead of jumping to the defense of his program, he acknowledged the shortcomings. There was a lack of staffing and as a high acuity center with high vol-umes, often pregnant women were told to walk and wait in triage until they were ready to deliver, forfeit-ing the use of the aids. It unnerved him as well. They were unable to move people beyond triage due to systemic issues. With the messages being delivered to expectant moth-ers in clinic, this seemed a false bill of sale, since they were unlikely to see the delivery room until it was too late to use any of its comforts. Instead, they would walk the ster-ile halls of the hospitals or labour in the cramped triage room, leaving the tubs and other items unused.

This experience and my disappoint-ment reinforced my thoughts on how critical coordination of care is for patients. From ensuring that there is sufficient staffing to allow the use of a hospital’s facilities, to having processes in place that op-timize turnover of rooms and un-derstanding factors contributing to positive patient experiences. This was not the first time I experi-enced frustration with the systems in place to care for patients. During my time in the Paediatrics Emer-gency Department, we were bed blocked for 12 hours, not because of a lack of beds, but due to a de-lay in cleaning them and allowing admissions. I worry in the case of the Labour and Delivery floor that such deviations from the expected care have the potential to sour re-lationships and erode trust in the healthcare system. Frustration and disappointment during such a key life event isn’t easily forgotten or forgiven.

In order to address such issues, we must first acknowledge them and work toward coming up with a solution. Involvement of engaged patients is a key in identifying influ-encing factors that might not be ap-parent to healthcare providers, and working toward an effective solu-tion for superior care coordination.

labouringby Kevin [email protected]

labouring

ABOUT THE AUTHOR - Kevin Dueck is a 4th year medical student at Western soon to start his Family Medicine residency at McMaster’s Brampton site. His interest in the medical humanities includes research in the histo-ry of medicine, articles addressing medical culture, and writing narratives of illness and patient care. Kevin is the author of the blog Aboot Medicine (abootmedicine.wordpress.com) and co-founder of the student well-ness project Western Vitals (westernvitals.ca).

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y Fit 4 U Volunteer Coordinator - Megan Pocalyuko

What motivated you to get in-volved with SOS? I loved the variety of options avail-able with respect to working with kids, and so I applied to every pos-sible subcommittee. Not to mention the fact that many of my friends were applying too. I spent my first year as part of Smiles Squad, which is a junior executive position that gave me the opportunity to assist and gain valuable experience in event planning. Currently, this is my third year of involvement. I am Communications Coordinator, in addition to being the coordinator of the Y Fit 4 U subcommittee.

What is the role of the Y Fit 4 U subcommittee? Y Fit 4 U was only established this year. We send volunteers to the YMCA in order to assist clients of

the McMaster Children’s Devel-opmental Rehabilitation Program under the supervision of physio-therapists. On Tuesdays and Thurs-days, our volunteers work with volunteers from the YMCA to help these kids carry out their exercises properly, ensure that they execute the recommended number of repe-titions, and the like.

What qualities did you look for in your volunteers? Definitely individuals who are team players and have asserted an earnest interest in working with children. Prior experience in this regard was an asset, but not man-datory. Mainly, we were aiming to select individuals that came across as mature and willing to learn, as well as excited to collaborate with their peers and work with the cli-ents. There were many great candi-dates and since we were only look-ing to accept about 10 volunteers,

the decisions were difficult.

What has the community re-sponse to this initiative been like? The kids love it. A lot of clients end up coming back once they finish the program, which is everything that we were hoping for. Having the youth excited to exercise and push the boundaries of their physical ca-pabilities is incredibly rewarding.

What has been your most memorable experience with SOS? The Pumpkin Hike in October when I was a part of Smiles Squad. It’s fun because everyone gets dressed up in Halloween costumes and there are a variety of activities. The kids come out and play games. There is a hike through a pumpkin patch— even though it’s really cold, there’s plen-ty of free candy and the kids are just hilarious.

Smiling Over Sicknessinterviewed by anna Goshua and Darwin Chan

From left to right: Megan Pocalyuko - Y Fit 4 U Volunteer Coordinator, Amber Murphy - Ronald McDon-ald House Volunteer Coordinator, June Chen - McMaster Children’s Hospital Volunteer Coordinator

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ronald McDonald house Volun-teer Coordinator - amber Murphy

What motivated you to get in-volved with SOS? I’ve been involved since my first year. I’m from Newfoundland, so I didn’t know anyone when I came here. I wanted to be involved in a club where I would have the oppor-tunity to do meaningful work and meet new people. Working with kids is also something I enjoy.

How does volunteering with Ronald McDonald house fit in with the SOS mission state-ment? Our mission statement is to help sick children smile. Firstly, Ron-ald McDonald house volunteers go to the house and clean toys, as well as help organize canned goods and clean family rooms. That compo-nent is focused on enhancing fam-ily comfort. We also host special events and activities in the family room at the hospital, wherein we interact directly with the children. We do board games, spa days (even the boys come!), and special events like science fairs, which the chil-dren really enjoy.

Do the kids have any prefer-ences out of the activities that your volunteers organize? The kids really love spa days. There are enormous line-ups. Halloween pumpkin painting is also extremely popular. We usually get about 10 to 20 children that come out to partic-ipate. We ended up using all of the 25 pumpkins that we brought this year!

Any personal interaction that stands out and defines your experience with this subcom-mittee? When I was a volunteer, I had an experience with a special needs child that really struck me. We were doing crafts with her and she was

extremely happy about it. She was nonverbal, so that wasn’t some-thing that she could tell us. Howev-er, her mom was really happy, and told us repeatedly that her daughter was smiling so much and wanted to give all of us hugs. Being able to make this kind of difference in the life of a child and their family is why I’ve stuck with SOS all these years.

Is there a particular quality that defines the SOS volun-teer? Without a doubt, dedication.

McMaster Children’s hospital Vol-unteer Coordinator - June Chen

What motivated you to get in-volved with SOS? I love working with children— this is one of the reasons that SOS stood out to me when I was looking for clubs to join in first year. The op-portunity to work with vulnerable populations also intrigued me, es-pecially given my aspirations to pursue a career in healthcare . I also enjoy arts and crafts, so I thought it was an excellent way to merge all of my interests.

What is the role of the McMas-ter Children’s Hospital volun-teering subcommittee? Every Sunday and every oth-er Thursday, we go to the family lounge on the third floor of Mc-Master Children’s Hospital. Our volunteers prepare craft supplies and craft ideas to make with the children. For 2 hours, we provide a space for the children and their parents to relax and take time away from their treatment schedule. Our volunteers do an amazing job in this program — the parents con-sistently provide positive feedback and ask us when we’re coming back. It’s extremely rewarding to see the children smiling and having fun de-spite their illness. How has the volunteering pro-

gram improved over the years that you’ve been part of it? In my first year, the program only allowed us to volunteer for one se-mester. It became a full year pro-gram in my second year. This made a significant difference in letting volunteers have more opportunities to get to know the patient popula-tion and to feel as though we were making more of an impact. Then, last year, we incorporated a biweek-ly subcommittee meeting schedule to prepare for shifts together. This has helped us to integrate the hospi-tal volunteering subcommittee and make our volunteers feel as though they’re part of SOS family, rather than a distinct entity. We’ve also improved crafts that we offer by in-corporating feedback from children and the Child Life Specialists with whom we work at the hospital. This year, our target is to engage the teen population in the hospital. As most crafts have traditionally been made for children between ages 6 -12, we’ve been working hard to create teen-friendly craft ideas.

What skills do subcommittee members gain from this expe-rience? Communication skills. This is due to the fact that volunteers have to deal with a number of potentially challenging situations, such as a child that doesn’t want to partici-pate in the activities or is unable to. Additionally, we work with children that may have attention or mobility issues. In these cases, it is import-ant to be able to think of creative ways to communicate craft instruc-tions and to engage them.

What is a unique quality of SOS? We’re not just a club, we’re a big family. We have a strong commit-ment to a cause and spend hours in meetings in pursuit of it. We believe in teamwork and working collabo-ratively to accomplish our goals.

Smiling Over Sickness 21


In the last issue of The Muse, I had the opportunity to re-

flect on my involvement with the Health, Aging, and Society Student Association (HASSA) and its influence on my time at McMaster. Last year, we heard from students who were looking for more opportunities to be-come involved in the communi-ty, so HASSA’s Vice-President, Andrea Wurster, and I creat-

ed the Volunteer and Outreach Coordinator (VOC) position. We have received great feed-back from students as well as the community about our deci-sion to implement this position. Jenna Gaskin, the current VOC, has built on the relationships that HASSA had already devel-oped with organizations in the community and has taken on the responsibilities of connect-

ing students with volunteer and job opportunities in Hamilton. These extra-curricular activities have allowed students in the De-partment of Health, Aging and Society to apply theories and concepts learned in courses to practical, real-world experienc-es.

Opportunities with HASSA By: Audrey Tan, featuring HASSA Executives

[FROM LEFT TO RIGHT: Jessica Jennison, andrea wursTer, audrey Tan, and Jenna gasKin]


The profiles outlined below offer a snapshot of the volunteer work that HASSA Executives and members are involved in.

Andrea WursterHealth Studies and Gerontology | Level IV

Coming to McMaster, I was quite reluctant to get too in-

volved. I wanted to focus on my studies and relax, as my sched-ule in high school was always packed. However, I eventually became more and more involved in academics and extra-cur-riculars, and by fourth year, I was happily the Vice-President of HASSA. Being part of HAS-SA has provided me with much more than just volunteer op-portunities. It has sparked my passion. I have also been giv-en the opportunity to work as a Therapeutic Recreationist in a long-term care home for the past three summers. Getting re-al-work experience has allowed my graduate school applications to really stand out. It is so im-portant to gain experience. I al-ways encourage my peers to get involved and find passion. Pas-sion fuels education, and knowl-edge is power!

Jenna GaskinHealth Studies and Gerontology | Level III

As the Volunteer and Out-reach Coordinator of HAS-

SA, I am responsible for provid-ing volunteer opportunities for students. The main organization my committee has been connect-ed with is the Victorian Order of Nurses (VON). The VON has a variety of volunteer programs, but most students have chosen to participate in the volunteer vis-iting program. I recently began volunteering at the VON Adult Day Centre, where older adults with dementia go to receive care and participate in physical and cognitive activities. I have real-ly enjoyed my time here. I have helped lead group activities and I have also gotten the chance to work one-on-one with clients. This has been an amazing and rewarding experience for me be-cause it has given me the chance to volunteer and develop import-ant skills in my field of interest.

Jessica JennisonHealth Studies and Gerontology | Level IV

My name is Jessica Jenni-son and I am the Academ-

ic Coordinator of HASSA this year. During my third year in the Health Studies & Gerontology program, I had the opportunity to volunteer at Mission Services, which is a homeless shelter in Hamilton. I really enjoyed being able to speak to and get to know the men and some of their strug-gles. I learned a lot about the health status of these individu-als, especially as many struggle with mental health issues. Fur-thermore, this volunteer experi-ence really helped to me to ad-dress the stigma I held towards the issue of homelessness. I would strongly recommend oth-ers to volunteer here as well!

Volunteer and Job Opportunities, featuring haSSa 23


StaFFeditor-in-chiefAnna Goshua

Managing editorIrina Sverdlichenko

Creative DirectorMichael Sun

Financial CoordinatorLucy Luo

editorial teamDarwin ChanMichal CoretAlex FlorescuRyann Kwan Joon MunIsabella FanyBhagyashree SharmaCarolyn TanMarina WangIshan Aditya

Graphics and layout teamAmy AjaySama AnvariAdhora MirJessica BlackwoodKelly Dong Lauren LiuAlice LuCathy LuNikesh PandeyShira WeissSamuel Wu

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Documents

The Muse-Issue 3 (Spring 2016)