It was a clinic day that went on and on, with patients coming and going, each one with a long list of concerns. I struggled to fix it all, and at the end I felt empty, and my head was pounding. Afterward, I sat around with my shoes off and thought about whether this was a job I wanted to do forever.

I thought about my usual laundry list of complaints: A large portion of my day involves managing my inbox and filling out paperwork. Nonclinician administrators control me. It feels like patient trust in my expertise is eroding year by year. Patients now rate me on a scale of one to five stars, and some of their comments are posted on our website, all of which tells me I am equivalent to an online retailer and I must keep my “customers” happy or else.

I get myself worked up about it all from time to time. I sit and I stew. Stewing feels nice sometimes. But this time I took a different approach.

I thought back to my time as a lifeguard during my high school summers. It was outdoors, and there were girls involved, but it was also hot, boring, and endlessly monotonous. My pay was pretty close to minimum wage.

I remembered my stint as a high school substitute teacher. It was fine. But I endured a fair amount of the abuse commonly directed toward substitutes. The days dragged. It was clear I wasn’t cut out to be a teacher.

I recalled a stretch when I worked with a friend cleaning the gutters of local homes. We’d climb our ladders and move foot by foot down the line, scraping debris out and dropping it into a large bucket hanging from a hook. It was about as exciting and glamorous as it sounds.

And I reminisced about my time on the farm. I’d go out with my coworkers in the early morning cold, and we would pick vegetables for hours. The work was rough, dirty, and paid, you guessed it, pretty close to minimum wage.

I don’t look down on any of these jobs. All of them need to be done, and I enjoyed aspects of each. But these were not my dream jobs.

As a general pediatrician, I take care of teenage patients, and the subject of employment comes up frequently. I hear about my patients’ jobs, the low pay, the rude customers, the inconvenient hours. I often point out that these jobs can be valuable in many ways, one of which is that they can help you better appreciate your eventual career.

Looking back that day, I realized that I had forgotten to take my own advice. I had lost perspective. And I came to the conclusion that I am very fortunate to have ended up as a physician. I get to form relationships and help people in a tangible way. There’s something about this work, helping people find answers and comforting them when they are most vulnerable, that is tremendously gratifying. I get to think. The human body and mind are complex and strange, and the problems that I’m tasked with solving are fascinating. My days don’t drag. I go patient by patient, doing my best to stay fully present in each room, and time flies by. I fall into a rhythm, and the next thing I know, the day is over. I believe most physicians in general, and primary care physicians in particular, are underpaid. But, let’s be honest, it sure ain’t minimum wage.

I’m not naive. I’m aware there are large-scale systemic problems in our current healthcare system. And of course, I’m willing to join forces with physicians and patients who are trying to tackle these problems. But we have limited time on this earth. I don’t want to spend mine in a constant state of agitation, ruminating on all the ways the system has wronged me and my patients (even though there are many). I want to choose to remember that, despite all the drawbacks, this is still a great job.

I know that, for me at least, it beats the hell out of cleaning gutters.

What job from your past does medicine "beat"? Share in the comments.

Dr. Sam Cross is a general pediatrician in Virginia. He spends most of his time outside of work wrestling with his four sons.

Illustration by Diana Connolly