Personal Narrative: My Switch To Medicine
Originally a political science student, I made my switch to medicine after realizing the shortcomings of public policy with regards to public health. I came to see the government as a cruise ship, while supporting lives of many, the vessel itself was incapable of making sudden changes to its course. However, physicians functioned differently. They were independent and driven by a force that compelled them to adapt quickly to their environment. I knew that I wanted to be in the field that made the most impact on people’s well being; therefore, the switch to medicine seemed very logical to me. When I began medical school, I met many students who already knew what kind of medicine they wanted to practice. I could hear the passion and vigor in their voices when they talked about where they saw
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themselves in ten years. I began to feeling inadequate. Compared to everyone else my decision to choose medicine felt so cold and impersonal. I felt like I was being guided by statistics, not passion.
Though my preceptors liked my clinical performance, I was not any close to deciding on a medical field. During one of my rotations, I spent time in a prescribed pediatric extended care (PPEC) center where I took care of children with congenital and genetic medical conditions. I met Elise, who was born with dilated cardiomyopathy and a VSD. On her chest was a vertical scar that indicated her early battle with death. Her hobbies included sleeping on swings and chewing on my stethoscope and hair. However, it was not until naptime when I had put her in the swing that the meaning of the scar on her chest dawned upon me. Elise was here today because of a CT surgeon’s knowledge and skill. His success had made it likely for Elise’s family to escape the experience of losing a child. Furthermore, he had given me the opportunity to be inspired by Elise. He may not have been aware of it, but through Elise, he had become my teacher and planted the seeds for my future profession of choice.
I began my surgery rotation, and simply put, the experience blew me away.
Whether it was seeing different conditions, anatomies, or surgical methods; each day was a new learning experience. I never felt tired or looked at the clock. The concept of time did not matter to me anymore as I was too engrossed with the experience. I quickly befriended the surgical staff and they kindly agreed to take me under their wings to train me. Adrenaline constantly rushed through my veins as I hopped from one OR into another. After establishing myself as part of the team, other surgeons generously agreed to allow me assist in their surgeries. I came to appreciate the field for the qualities that it represented as they aligned with my personality. The field required not only clinical knowledge, but problem solving as well. A surgeon had to solve the problems set before him/her while weighing the risks and benefits of each decision. Seeing surgeons complete the same procedure using different tools and methods revealed the field’s diversity, and made it much more admirable to me. In two months, I was given a new family who had helped open the door to the field that I became passionate
about.
Toward the end of my surgical rotation my preceptor received a trauma alert for a 3-year-old boy who had fallen out of a moving car. He was being transported by air, already intubated, and in shock. I entered the OR and kept close to the walls as to not impede the movement of the trauma team. The surgeons opened the chest and quickly began looking for the hemorrhage that was present on the CT scan. As the boy’s heart stopped beating, the surgeon quickly grabbed the heart and began delivering manual compressions. My eyes were glued to the vitals monitor and for the first time in that rotation, I became aware of the clock. The seconds turned into a minutes; however, the pulse never returned and neither did the blood pressure. The time of death was called shortly thereafter. For some reason, within all the chaos, I remembered Elise and her surgical success. I looked at the tears rolling down the surgeon’s face as he sewed the boy’s chest. I had learned of a surgeon’s success and a surgeon’s loss, now I was ready to take on a surgeon’s challenge.
themselves in ten years. I began to feeling inadequate. Compared to everyone else my decision to choose medicine felt so cold and impersonal. I felt like I was being guided by statistics, not passion.
Though my preceptors liked my clinical performance, I was not any close to deciding on a medical field. During one of my rotations, I spent time in a prescribed pediatric extended care (PPEC) center where I took care of children with congenital and genetic medical conditions. I met Elise, who was born with dilated cardiomyopathy and a VSD. On her chest was a vertical scar that indicated her early battle with death. Her hobbies included sleeping on swings and chewing on my stethoscope and hair. However, it was not until naptime when I had put her in the swing that the meaning of the scar on her chest dawned upon me. Elise was here today because of a CT surgeon’s knowledge and skill. His success had made it likely for Elise’s family to escape the experience of losing a child. Furthermore, he had given me the opportunity to be inspired by Elise. He may not have been aware of it, but through Elise, he had become my teacher and planted the seeds for my future profession of choice.
I began my surgery rotation, and simply put, the experience blew me away.
Whether it was seeing different conditions, anatomies, or surgical methods; each day was a new learning experience. I never felt tired or looked at the clock. The concept of time did not matter to me anymore as I was too engrossed with the experience. I quickly befriended the surgical staff and they kindly agreed to take me under their wings to train me. Adrenaline constantly rushed through my veins as I hopped from one OR into another. After establishing myself as part of the team, other surgeons generously agreed to allow me assist in their surgeries. I came to appreciate the field for the qualities that it represented as they aligned with my personality. The field required not only clinical knowledge, but problem solving as well. A surgeon had to solve the problems set before him/her while weighing the risks and benefits of each decision. Seeing surgeons complete the same procedure using different tools and methods revealed the field’s diversity, and made it much more admirable to me. In two months, I was given a new family who had helped open the door to the field that I became passionate
about.
Toward the end of my surgical rotation my preceptor received a trauma alert for a 3-year-old boy who had fallen out of a moving car. He was being transported by air, already intubated, and in shock. I entered the OR and kept close to the walls as to not impede the movement of the trauma team. The surgeons opened the chest and quickly began looking for the hemorrhage that was present on the CT scan. As the boy’s heart stopped beating, the surgeon quickly grabbed the heart and began delivering manual compressions. My eyes were glued to the vitals monitor and for the first time in that rotation, I became aware of the clock. The seconds turned into a minutes; however, the pulse never returned and neither did the blood pressure. The time of death was called shortly thereafter. For some reason, within all the chaos, I remembered Elise and her surgical success. I looked at the tears rolling down the surgeon’s face as he sewed the boy’s chest. I had learned of a surgeon’s success and a surgeon’s loss, now I was ready to take on a surgeon’s challenge.