Half done with the first year. Crazy. Three years ago, I would have never imagined I'd be in medical school. Two years ago I wasn't sure I'd get into a medical school. One year ago, I never thought I'd get into this medical school. But here I am. Half done with the first year.
Reflecting on the first half of first year, I come to realize that I've grown a lot more than I expected. I've learned that I'll never learn everything. I've become a sort of "non-civilian" with my intimate knowledge of the human body via scalpel, forceps, and gloved hand. I've questioned the very validity of the profession I'm about to enter- what place it has in the world right now, and what place it should have in the world right now. And I've doubted at times whether I belong here at all- at medical school, at Harvard.
Going forward, I'll still try to learn as much as I can; even though I know the fight to learn it all is futile, what I will learn (and hopefully retain) will inform my practice of medicine in the future. I'll continue my quest into "non-civilian" status as I delve further into patients' lives with prodding questions, expecting the most intimate of answers from a total stranger. I'll continue to question medicine's role in society in a critical way, but with the hopes of making it more accountable to its ultimate stakeholders, patients. And as medical school becomes ever more intense, I won't have time to doubt whether I belong here. I simply won't have time for anything other than school. Period.
And now, having transformed so much already, I expect to continue to grow in ways I can't even fathom. I know at times it'll be painful. And at times I'll want to quit. But even after all of the growing pains I've experienced in my first 6 months of medical school, and after (slowly) starting to understanding what sort of life I can expect to lead going forward, I am ready. I am answering yes to my (masochistic) calling to be in medicine. For better or for worse. In sickness and health. For as long as I live. I do.
