Alumni Spotlight: Alexandria Yap, Class of ’20

What are you up to right now?

I am a resident physician in NYC, specializing in psychiatry. Outside of work, I also find time for food and culture writing in the city.

What sparked your decision to major in English Literature?

The summer after freshman year, I realized that I felt most like myself in my writing classes. I wanted to question the texts before me, but I could not challenge my biology textbooks. I wanted to discuss nuances and ask “so what?”, but there was no subtext, only rote scientific facts. I changed my major to English, but I still remained enrolled in my pre-med classes. I had found it thrilling to slip between worlds, boarding across campus from SGM to Taper, from my 9AM organic chemistry to my 10AM American literature class. As much as I was fascinated by narratives, I could not give up the idea of doctoring.

Later that year, I found the world of narrative medicine. I remember clicking through WebReg and finding ENGL-280g: Introduction to Narrative Medicine:: “Study of literary modes of narrative and their uses in medical understanding, character formation, social identity, and relations between mind and body.” In this course description, I read the words that I had always tried to express, the motivation that drew me to both literature and medicine. I also read that I was not alone. I never ended up taking this class; it never quite fit into my schedule. But through the department’s openness to interdisciplinary work, I was able to find mentors–Erika Wright, PhD and Pamela Schaff MD, PhD–at the intersection of my interests and develop and complete an independent study with each. 

Thinking back to your student days, what’s one piece of advice that would have made the biggest difference in your college experience or career planning?

There is no rush to figure it all out! Take your time. 

How did your English Literature major prepare you for the challenges and opportunities in your current field?

I write stories in psychiatry every day. After seeing my patients, I sit back down and write notes on our encounter. I set the scene: “On approach, patient was seen pacing in the day room.” I next decide whether to paraphrase my patient or quote her directly. A direct quote would draw special attention to her word choice:  “Patient reported that she hears ‘celestial beings’.” I think through her diction: Why did she name them “celestial beings,” rather than “angels” or “planets”? Later, in my mental status exam, I attended to my patient’s tone: was her affect bright or expansive? labile or reactive? Each describes a different visage. I end my notes, answering the infamous “so what,”  the crux of every English essay. So what does it mean if my patient is with an expansive affect, restless behavior, magical thinking, and perceptual disturbances?  I formulate my patient’s body language, word choice, and tone into a differential of diagnoses and a plan. I must present this argument convincingly enough to justify checking labs or cross-titrating to another medication, whether my audience is my current team or a future provider reading the chart.