“Hey man, I’m proud of you.” I stood next to Tony’s hospital bed, his room bathed in harsh fluorescent lighting and covered in drab ’90’s wallpaper. His words, which he said after I wrapped up my disjointed cranial nerve exam, caught me off guard. I was one month into my internal medicine rotation, the first of my third year, still learning how to present to attendings, perform physical exams, and navigate the hospital’s indecipherable EMR. Everything was new and difficult. Writing a single progress note took all my brainpower. Explaining my assessment and plan to the team took pep talks in the mirror and countless self-affirmations of “you can do this, EJ.” At this point, I felt far from proud of my performance as a student. Therefore, when Tony said those words, I initially stood there stunned. He looked at me and went on to say, “Not a lot of Black folk in the medical field. I’m proud of you, man. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
Looking back on my early days of medical school, I remember how magical they felt. I recall reciting the Oath of Maimonides at my White Coat Ceremony, soaking in my family’s loud cheering as their boy began the journey toward his dreams. And everything after that moment felt incredible: receiving my stethoscope, navigating my first patient encounter, and learning about the community I would call home for four years.
However, I soon settled into the routine of preclinical life. After spending countless days in the library watching lectures on 2x speed, reviewing flashcards, and drilling countless factoids into my head, medical school began to wear on me. Soon, my second year ended, and Step 1 approached, intensifying the preclinical grind even further as I filled my brain with seemingly random facts about neurofibromatosis and glycogen storage diseases. During this time, an alarming thought nudged its way to the forefront of my mind: I was terrified to start clinical rotations.
I dreaded spending long hours in the hospital and constantly being thrust outside my comfort zone. And the start of clinical rotations confirmed my anxieties. I struggled to adjust to the demanding schedule of the hospital, the expectation to work during the day and study in the evenings, and the drastic decrease in social time with friends, classmates, and loved ones. Within the first couple weeks of my internal medicine rotation, I found myself lying in bed at 5 a.m., sleep-deprived and exhausted, wondering, “Can I really do this?”
For the first time, I realized medicine is hard and that I have only just begun the demanding path to becoming a doctor. In my desperation to simply stay afloat, I stripped away the shiny ideals and unbridled optimism I started my journey with and traded them in for efficiency and cold logic. “Don’t exercise, you need to finish these practice questions.” “Don’t call your family, you need to read up on patients.” “Don’t eat breakfast, you need time to chart review.” In a way, this line of thinking helped me make it through the day, but with it, I found myself going through the motions, losing all sense of what truly made me happy in medicine. I felt like I was “just another med student.” And sadly, medicine felt like “just another career path.” I had lost the magic.
That is why Tony’s simple words surprised me so much. “I’m proud of you.” Those four words from a stranger felt like salvation to me in that moment. In between my duties for the day, I spent time with Tony, talking about his upbringing in Western Massachusetts, how he loved his job in construction, and his excitement to start a family with his girlfriend. And in turn, I told him about myself: how I grew up in Maryland and spent my summers playing tennis with my younger sister, how I loved my dad’s Nigerian cooking and my family trips to the Philippines growing up, and how one day, I hoped to return to the Baltimore area and practice in the place that shaped me.
In the hospital, I struggled to maintain and feel connected to my identity. But this interaction with Tony reminded me of something I felt was slipping away. As a future doctor, I’m doing something special. I’m doing something important. And I’m doing it as me. As EJ Abass, native of Owings Mills, MD, the son of a Nigerian father and Filipino mother, lover of all things tennis and soccer, devout Catholic, and a man who entered medicine to heal in mind, body, and spirit. As I prepared to leave the hospital for the day, Tony said that chatting with me made his day. However, he has no idea the impact his simple words had on a med student who struggled to find his way.
Being a third-year med student means that I am a young chick preparing to take flight for the first time. I’m peering over the edge of the nest to the dizzying heights below. That precarious drop is the reality of medicine’s difficult and daunting nature, and at times, it terrifies me. However, when I feel scared, it’s patients like Tony who remind me of why I’m here and give me the courage to spread my wings and face the demands of this field.
Therefore, I encourage my fellow students and all health care professionals to remember moments like these in their day-to-day lives. Write down the kind things that patients and colleagues say. Chat with a lonely patient when you have a spare moment. Ask them something about their life. Tell them something about yours. And offer kind words to those you encounter. Simple words such as “I’m proud of you” go a long way in making people feel seen in a system that sometimes makes us feel unseen. These small practices uplift me when the day-to-day responsibilities and anxieties overwhelm me. And as Tony said, they give me the power to “keep doing what I’m doing.”
What moments have reminded you why you chose medicine? Share in the comments.
Elijah (EJ) Abass is a third-year medical student at UMass Chan Medical School where he pursues his passions of narrative medicine, health policy, and mentoring future health care professionals. He plans to apply to internal medicine residency and ultimately pursue a career in nephrology. In his free time, he enjoys playing tennis, watching his favorite Premier League team (Go Brighton), and hiking throughout New England.
Image by Alphavector / Shutterstock
