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"Where Medicine Begins" - By Geneviève Belanger

Hands wearing yellow gloves washing the plug in a kitchen sink

An entry to the 2025 Irish Epilepsy League writing competition was from medical student Geneviève Belanger. Speaking about her poem Geneviève said: 

I am an incoming third-year medical student at Trinity College Dublin with extensive family history of various neurological disorders, including epilepsy, Parkinson's disease and dementia. I wrote Where Medicine Begins to highlight the emotional dichotomy of being a caregiver and medical trainee. 

This poem reflects the difficulty of witnessing a loved one’s seizure while grappling limitation of early clinical training. I hope to convey greater need for compassion in medicine and remembered that patients are not just cases but people. Thank you for your time in reading my submission, I hope you enjoy it. 

You can read Geneviève's entry in full below...

Where Medicine Begins

I was cleaning the kitchen when I saw it ­ 
your neck twisted back,  
eyes locked somewhere past me, 
arms flailing like you were thrashing in the ocean 

I ran.
Not as a medical student.
As someone who loves you 

“Call 911!” I shout 
but my training served me little here   

The terminology spun in my head 
tonic-clonic, focal with impaired awareness, lamotrigine

I’d listened attentively in class,
discussed patient cases like they were puzzles,
treatment, follow-up, discharge summaries 

But nothing  
no lecture,
no workshop, 
no exam, 
prepares you for 
the violence of the body 
when it forgets itself 

That moment split our world in two.
Before: we had excitement, laughter and plans,
After:
no driving,
no swimming, 
no spontaneous plans.

The clinical language I once found fascinating
now tasted bitter.

I didn’t see “epilepsy” 
I saw your flailing body

I didn’t ask, “which drugs do we choose”
I thought of how you trembled 
and cried 
when they took your licence 

This isn’t just a condition
It’s a life shattered into a million pieces

And now in every patient I see,
I carry you with me, 
not as a case,
but as a reminder
that medicine begins 
in the compassion of our hearts.

To others it may always be just a seizure
A medical diagnosis 
But to us 
It’s a silence we fight to break.