Regardless of these physical reminders, I hope that my developing and future practices as a student and physician embody all that these bracelets represent.

As I think now about what to do with the cut cords, I resolve myself to not give up the people and values they represent: empathy, resilience, kindness, understanding…

Cutting them off today feels like a transition. A symbol of my changing identity.

My biggest fear coming into medical school was loosing the humanity and empathy I had built as a patient.

I wore them as I learned to talk to and examine sick kids (not unlike I was) and their families. I wore them as I told a family that their loved one was passing for the first time.

Always a symbol of my past. My patient heritage.

Over a decade later they were still on my wrists. They were on my wrists through the classroom learning of preclerkship and through my first months on the wards.

I would come back in future years. Every year at the end of the week we would take paracord strands and burn the end together to make bracelets. At that point, I could roll mine off my hands.

I remember her smile and optimism. The time she took to listen to my story, and, despite her own challenges, empathize with me. She showed me happiness existed despite many challenges.
Her example gave me permission to be happy again. I could have a disease without being ill.

Meeting other kids with kidney disease and on similar treatments showed me that you could thrive despite disease. I met many friends there, some now passed.

One friend, Nicole had every reason to be unhappy - renal transplants and a medical problem list that stretched across most organ systems.

At age 12, I attended a camp for kids with kidney disease. This camp saved and forever changed my life. Learning to live with chronic disease and the side effects of treatment was hard. I wasn’t thriving. The year I was diagnosed with autoimmune vasculitis, my school attendance was under 10%.

I’m a medical student learning in rural Alberta!