Before starting medical school, I took an unconventional detour: I served as a Neuroscience and Society Fellow at the Dana Foundation, a private philanthropic organization supporting interdisciplinary neuroscience initiatives that bridge the gap between academia and the broader public. As a Fellow, I was immersed in grant-making, program evaluation, and project management at the intersection of neuroscience, ethics, higher education, law, policy, and the humanities. I pursued the role as I was interested in building a foundation for growing into a future interdisciplinary health care leader, but it certainly was a position that was far outside the traditional premedical experiences (e.g., clinical research, EMT shifts, medical assistant work) that advisors had suggested to me throughout college. At times, I felt compelled to explain why I pursued an opportunity outside of the usual pipeline, but that “detour” has ultimately shaped how I now understand medicine and the responsibilities physicians carry beyond the clinic on a broader level.
Philanthropy is often described in nebulous terms such as “funding ecosystems” and “cross-sector collaborations.” During my Fellowship, I came to understand what these vagaries mean in practice. While serving on the grant-making team, I was struck by the interdisciplinary nature of the work: I was able to connect with researchers, clinicians, ethicists, community organizers, educators, and artists, all of whom were invested in co-creating solutions to health and medicine-related problems that no individual discipline could solve alone.
One initiative in particular reflected this interdisciplinary aim: a reimagining of how neuroscience and neuroengineering are taught in higher education that centered around the experiences of people with brain injuries. In medical school, students often learn about the science of brain injury in isolation from its human impact. They may understand neural circuitry and device mechanics in detail, but not know what it is actually like to navigate the challenges that follow a brain injury, whether they be physical, cognitive, social, or systemic. To close this knowledge gap, the initiative brought together engineers, rehabilitation experts, disability advocates, designers, and artists to collaboratively build immersive learning environments rooted in lived experience. The core principle was for future engineers, scientists, and clinicians to understand how to design assistive technologies with individuals who would use them, not for them, such as crafting wearable devices for mobility support after brain injury, or building assistive communication devices to aid individuals experiencing speech or hearing difficulties. Engaging directly with individuals who had experienced brain injury fostered a deeper connection with patients beyond their diagnoses, as well as a better understanding of how clinical decisions and technologies shape patients’ day-to-day lives after injury. Many students stayed involved beyond the scope of the classroom as well, further refining their prototypes, participating in hackathon competitions, and pitching their proposals to investors for funding. Seeing people from such different sectors come together around one goal showed me how the power of interdisciplinary collaboration could be tangible and not just theoretical, and that meaningful innovation requires not only the technical skills but also a deep understanding of the human context in which that innovation will live.
The Fellowship was also valuable for a different reason: It gave me insight into the broader landscape of how funding structures influence which questions are asked, which proposals gain momentum, and which communities benefit or are overlooked. For instance, as AI applications in health care — as well as funders’ interest in them — have rapidly expanded, I observed that many successful funding proposals were centered on designing or incorporating AI-driven solutions across a wide range of disciplines, whether they be related to neurotechnology or philosophy initiatives. Additionally, in the context of health care, I realized that many of the clinical decisions made in hospital exam rooms are downstream of decisions made in boardrooms and legislative assemblies. Medicine operates within larger systems that allocate resources, set research agendas, and define ethical and policy frameworks, but seeing philanthropy up close this early in my career has also made me realize that physicians can influence these structures deliberately rather than accidentally. For example, physicians can bring their clinical acumen to grant review panels for translational research that connects academic discovery to real-world clinical use. They can advise philanthropic organizations in developing preventive public health initiatives — locally and globally — that address social determinants of the medical conditions that they see in their patients. And they can advocate to policymakers at a state and national level to address gaps in the health care system and promote access to affordable care. Well-structured funding structures that prioritize shared decision-making and genuine collaboration can help us more effectively and efficiently bridge scientific discovery, enhance patient care, and amplify societal impact.
That said, intention is at the heart of it all: We need leaders from academia, health care, industry, government, non-profit, creative sectors, and beyond to be willing to come together around shared goals and co-create solutions that do not rely solely on one domain’s expertise. The process is often messy and imperfect, but the results yield comprehensive solutions that address true population needs, not just solutions that look good on paper. Furthermore, physicians do not necessarily need to have prior cross-sector experiences in order to initiate these kinds of collaborations. Skills such as fostering shared decision-making and effective communication with colleagues and patients on a day-to-day basis in clinical settings also form the very foundation of interdisciplinary collaborations on a larger scale. Additionally, health care professionals are motivated by the desire to always improve patient care, which is an attribute that naturally extends to identifying opportunities for enhancement within interdisciplinary efforts.
As I progress through medical training, I’m determined to carry my experience in philanthropy with me as I strive to become a physician who engages both the clinical and structural dimensions of health care. My time at the Foundation showed me how medicine is part of a broader ecosystem of ideas, values, and power. I now see physicians as not only caregivers, but also as connectors, collaborators, and advocates who can create change across disciplines and communities.
Have you ever collaborated with professionals from other fields? Share your experience in the comments!
Chinmayi Balusu is a medical student at the Kaiser Permanente Bernard J. Tyson School of Medicine in California. She is passionate about medical humanities, public health, and neuroethics, and hopes to pursue a career in neurosurgery. In her free time, she enjoys reading, practicing taekwondo, and watching South Indian (Telugu) movies. She tweets at @chinmayi_balusu. Chinmayi is a 2025–2026 Doximity Op-Med Fellow.
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