Tag: depression

5 Signs of Vitamin D Deficiency You Should Know

Posted on February 21, 2017 by Phoebe Chi (Puppydoc)

Vitamin D deficiency. Do you know the symptoms? How do you know if you are at risk of having it? What should you do if you are, and how do you prevent it? These are the questions that will be answered in this post…

Category: Health & WellnessTags: chronic pain, depression, fatigue, Health, healthy living, holistic, illness, lifestyle, Medicine, vitamin D, vitamin deficiency, wellness, writing

Melancholia.

Posted on April 6, 2016 by Phoebe Chi (Puppydoc)

35 Comments

Heed the echos of a heartache,
anguished sear of reverie.
Feel its scalp bleed down her face,
scathing tears of memories.
See the eyes that once freely smiled
fading with defeat.
As silent fields in which she lies
drift away with night’s conceit.

Category: Life & Love, PoetryTags: depression, heartache, Life, loss, love, poem, sad

I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Do More.

Posted on January 25, 2016 by Phoebe Chi (Puppydoc)

34 Comments

You took your life.

I’m sorry I was only
fifteen feet away.

The doctors were only fifteen feet away…

Category: Death & Loss, MedicineTags: death, depression, doctor, guilt, hospital, medical school, Medicine, physician, Poetry, premed, sad, suicide

To Rhonda.

Posted on November 18, 2014 by Phoebe Chi (Puppydoc)

18 Comments

Almost a year ago, I wrote something for your daughter.

I never thought at that time that soon I would be writing similar lines for you.

So as I try to find ways to make sense of the pain of finding out that you left us, just as Kaitlyn had left us, I can only come out with these words…

Category: Death & LossTags: death, depression, grieving, kaitlyn elkins, medical school, medical student, mental illness, rhonda elkins, sadness, suicide

To Kaitlyn, a Girl I Will Never Know.

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Phoebe Chi (Puppydoc)

13 Comments

I’ve been wanting to write this to you for a while. I go to work, and though I’ve never met you, I think about you. I talk to a patient, and while I’m standing there, there you are again, tugging at my heart. Maybe it’s because I know of your mom, and I know of her heartbreak. Maybe it’s because I know you will never be able to do what you were meant to do.

This is what I know about you. You were a medical student. You went to school in North Carolina. You cared for people. And you wanted to care for them at the greatest capacity possible. You wanted to help people during their times of sickness, strengthen them in their weakness. But your life was robbed from beneath you. So this will never happen. And the world has lost another great physician.