Positive Transformation

The first time I saw the patient, they weren’t sure if they wanted to take the medications I recommended for lowering their cholesterol and blood pressure. Primary care appointments are conversations. My assessment of their health after reviewing their labs, vital signs, and story suggested that making lifestyle changes (like more exercise and diet adjustments) and starting a few medications would help the patient be healthier and reach their goal of living a long, healthy life. I explained the reasoning behind my recommendations and the patient agreed to think about them. We planned to continue our discussion of possible medications and lifestyle changes at future appointments. As I like to remind my patients, it doesn’t help anyone if I prescribe them medications they won’t take. I’d rather have an honest conversation about the medications I think would help them but only prescribe the medications the patient would like to try.

Primary care is proactive. In other words, the goal of primary care is to prevent the development of disease in the first place or, if a disease is present, to prevent its progression. Contrast primary care with the reactive approach of hospital medicine. The goal of hospital medicine is to treat disease that is unstable or so far along in its course that it can’t be safely managed outside of a hospital. We know we can help people live longer, healthier lives when they have good access to primary care. However, the challenge with primary care is that often the interventions it promotes don’t create visible changes in the present.

For example, people generally don’t feel any different if their cholesterol is high or low. However, we know that high cholesterol over time can lead to clogging of arteries which, in turn, can lead to heart attacks, strokes, and blockages in arteries that feed the legs (causing pain, poor healing, and tissue death). If a patient has high cholesterol and chooses to lower their cholesterol through diet, exercise, and (possibly) medications they are taking important action to prevent heart attack, stroke, and the other complications of clogged arteries. Yet, it can be hard for people to find the motivation to change their lifestyle and (possibly) take medications every day when those changes don’t change how they feel, and the health benefits are intangible (though very real).

I saw the patient who agreed to think about my medication recommendations many months later. They had lost weight and looked more muscular. They’d revamped their lifestyle – they started a balanced exercise program at least 3 days a week and minimized sugars and carbohydrates in their diet in favor of lean meats and vegetables.

“I’m ready to try the cholesterol-lowering medication,” the patient said, bringing up the topic before I did.

It was a complete transformation. “What motivated you to make all these changes?” I asked.

“I decided I want to live a long time still. I have things I want to do,” the patient said.

I found myself smiling long after the patient left. Many people struggle to make all the changes that this patient had to support their health. Yet, this patient had taken their health into their own hands. And, while I’ll never be able to say exactly how their actions changed the course of their life, every bit of research suggests these choices would shape the patient’s future. They’d lowered their probability of dying from heart disease or stroke. They’d lowered their risk of developing heart failure and diabetes. And such a positive transformation, though rare, is the dream of primary care.

The Tired Mind

The foundation of medicine is curiosity. Desire to understand how the human body works – how those workings can break and malfunction and then, how they can be fixed again. Interest in the human experience. Wonder about how the mind can influence the physical. Joy in the triumphs of human capabilities. Humility in the shadow of human limitations. Thrill in the story of each human life. Medicine is built on questions and the pursuit of their answers.

At its best medicine is cutting-edge. Exciting. Grounded in the clearest understanding of the world the best science has thus far provided us. Yet, medicine isn’t always at its best. Medicine, after all, is a profession performed by humans. And humans are fallible. Medicine doesn’t stand above or beyond bias and money. And physicians, like all human beings, get tired.

The tired mind is a weak medicine mind. The tired mind processes slowly. The facts stand right in front of a tired mind, yet the mind is too weary to see them. The tired mind makes mistakes. Rushes when it shouldn’t. Forgets. Gets distracted by unimportant details. The tired mind is more likely to cut corners. Tired minds place patients in boxes of diseases rather than notice the nuances that make each patient unique. The tired mind is about clocking in and clocking out. The tired mind doesn’t ask questions. Because questions must be answered. And answering questions takes time. The tired mind has used up its time.

I think about the mind often at the wee hours of the morning on nightshifts or when my dayshifts drag on in a string of events. Not necessarily unfortunate events but overlapping and clashing events that make up a typical day in medicine. As shifts pile on top of each other, the events of each shift blend creating fog within the mind.

I know when my mind is tired because medicine isn’t interesting during those times. When my mind is tired the wonder of medicine evaporates. The wonder is replaced with drudgery as many tasks become repetitive and the clock ticks. When fatigue prevails, work hours are reduced to time that feels stolen. Stolen in the sense that work hours become hours I can’t sleep, can’t see the sun, can’t visit people I love, and can’t do hobbies I enjoy. When my mind is tired work hours are exposed as time spent looking at numbers that almost tell the story of human existence. I know that life is more than the sum of the numbers that describe it but, when I’m tired, I can almost believe life is no more than numbers.

When my schedule eases and balance between work and free time is restored, the wonder of medicine returns. The thrill of seeking the answers to mysterious questions – the function of medications, the disease behind a constellation of symptoms, and the life experience that led a patient to the hospital or my clinic – takes center stage again. When there is balance and my mind isn’t tired, medicine is thrilling. Thrilling because few other professions let one spend their day unraveling mysteries. Hearing the stories of real humans and decoding what those stories mean from a wellness and health perspective.

As my days as a resident dwindle, I find myself thinking about what it will take to minimize the tired mind and maximize curiosity during the next phase of my career. It was my love of stories and my delight in solving riddles that carried me through the 8 years of medical training I’ve already completed on the doctorhood quest. One more year and I’ll be an independently practicing physician. Even if I’m called to do more training, no future training will be like medical school or residency. Nothing can be. Medical school and then residency are times of growth, but they involve too many hours spent with a tired mind.

I plan to make the next step not the way of medical school and residency. How do I find or create a job that serves me as well as my patients? How do I ensure my work fosters curiosity and promotes wonder? How do I make work more than task completion and income earned? How do I make sure that the formulation of questions and the pursuit of their answers remain at the center of my work? To answer these questions I must explore the nuances of the profession; a wholly different pursuit than gaining the medical knowledge required to become a physician.

Giving the Body Time to Heal or to Live

When reading a book on ventilators* (mechanical breathing machines) to expand my knowledge of how to use them, I was struck by the author’s comment that ventilators are not curative but simply tools to buy the body time to cure itself. This factoid is known (at least subconsciously) by many physicians though not often so simply stated or at the forefront of our minds. The author’s bluntness made me wonder whether most of medicine is like that – interventions designed to keep death at bay until the body can mend itself, if such mending is possible. Or, if not mending, interventions that slow down damage to the body thereby allowing people to live longer than they would without the intervention.

The thought of medicine acting as a time warp – bending time to give the body space to mend– renewed my awe and appreciation of the body and its functioning. Without intervention the body is extremely resilient. With medicine available to help it along the way, it is incredible.

In primary care clinic, my patients and I frequently discuss the need for putting in time before results are realized. Medications and actions inherent to primary care are usually designed to prevent damage that would need mending. In that way, preventative medicine, as primary care is, is designed to give the body more time to live. Primary care time is composed of daily endeavors to live healthfully. It includes time spent doing physical therapy to optimize muscle function. Time spent sleeping, exercising, and eating well. Time – built from seconds – with each small action and decision along the way adding together, hopefully generating an outcome that may not have otherwise been possible.

In contrast to primary care, hospital time is more finite and about letting the body heal itself. In the hospital I also discuss time with my patients often. Common conversations include time left before patients can leave the hospital, time left to live, and time needed to recover. We discuss the shortcomings of the crystal ball I don’t have. We review the annoying truth that medicine isn’t magic and that sometimes it takes days to reduce leg swelling with pills that make one pee, to heal tissues that are infected, or to get medications to reach their therapeutic level in the body.

Bending time to let the body heal or to delay deadly damage is a simple concept but complex when applied to real life. The question remains: If time is bent will it change the outcome? And the more medicine I do the more muddied my answer to that question becomes. The answer is between sometimes and often. Medicine is based in research that investigates if behaviors, medications, and procedures help improve outcomes – survival, functionality, etc. Yet even the medical recommendations we are confident about are still probabilities and not certainties.

For example, there is no promise that if we control patients’ diabetes, they won’t die of a heart attack. They might. Research suggests that if we treat diabetes the chance of dying from a heart attack is lower for the person with diabetes. Similarly, we know that if we don’t place someone who can’t breathe for themselves on a ventilator, they will die. But we can’t promise that they won’t die after we place them on the ventilator. They might. In both examples, we are just giving the body a chance to pursue an alternative outcome from what is most likely at the time we act. It’s a chance, not a promise.

Even in the case of more definitive medical cures – like surgical removal of a tumor or chemotherapy – cure is not a guarantee. The body first must recover from surgery and avoid complications like infection to benefit from the surgery. The body first must survive chemotherapy before benefiting from the cure, and there is a risk of cancer returning.  Considering the limitations of even curative interventions, the argument that their primary role is to give the body an opportunity to heal itself remains. Fate is like magic, beyond medicine. Yet, the body is capable of astounding things. As such, even if medicine does nothing more than bend time for the body it is still a worthwhile pursuit. Because with medicine we might extend life and reduce suffering during whatever days remain in a person’s life. That opportunity, even if not guaranteed, is why people like me go into medicine.

*The Ventilator Book by William Owens

The Branching Plan

I’ve arrived at the phase in residency where colleagues ask what my next step is. The 3 major options after internal medicine residency are:

1) work as a hospitalist (a generalist who only works in the hospital)

2) work as primary care physician (a generalist who only works in clinic)

3) do additional training in a medical sub-specialty (like infectious disease, pulmonology, etc.)

Yep, I know you’re amazed. It’s possible to do more training after residency…it’s called “fellowship”. Medicine is the kind of profession where one starts planning their next step year(s) in advance so now (over halfway through my 3-year residency) is exactly when I need to know my next step. Luckily, I have a plan.

My plan is branching which allows for wandering and discovery along the way. I’ll start as a hospitalist both to enjoy a pause from training and strengthen my financial foundation. Then, I’ll either start fellowship or tailor my generalist work to focus on the populations and medicine that interest me most.

As the residency tunnel starts to show its brilliant end, I’ve been thinking more about the bigger goal – why I decided to become a doctor in the first place. I started the Doctorhood Quest because I wanted to have a career that tangibly helped people. I wanted my daily work to involve direct interaction with the people I was helping. And the help I wanted to give was empowerment. Improving health and banishing illness is empowering because when we are sick, we simply can’t achieve our full potential. As a doctor I’m an ally with my patients on their quest to fulfilment. I love seeing my patients get better from acute illness. I’m honored to help patients die with dignity or to be part of the reason their suffering is minimized. I’m stoked to keep people out of the hospital by optimizing their chronic medical conditions and overall health.

I joined medicine because of the opportunity to work with patients. My branching plan is a strategy to ensure that no matter what happens with healthcare, I can adjust and adapt to achieve my bigger goal of fostering empowerment. People have inequitable access to healthcare and the healthcare industry is flawed but, despite healthcare’s many shortcomings, there is much opportunity to do good as a physician. In an ever-changing environment (like medicine) one must be flexible and adaptable. Having a multilayered and branching plan acknowledges that I’ll have to change throughout my career to achieve my bigger goals. What fun it’ll be to see where I end up 20 years from now!  

Hello 2025

The Red Wheelbarrow

By William Carlos Williams

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens

~

2024 was a toilsome year interspersed with joy and success. My themes were quietness, pause, and connectivity. It was the first calendar year spent 100% in residency: the lack of time off, no control over my schedule, and too many hours worked made me weary. Yet, despite these challenges, my year was fulfilling. I took several amazing vacations – a highlight was going to Costa Rica which included a 4-day trek in the mountains. I’ve enjoyed camping, sharing moments with family and friends, and completing my first half-marathon since I started medical school. I added back a few non-medical activities I’d put on hold when I started residency because (back then) I didn’t have the bandwidth for them. It’s exciting to have tangibly more time simply because I’m more efficient than I was in the beginning of residency (hard work paying off). This year I’ve seen my ability as a doctor grow and am proud of my progress. I feel more confident in my clinical decisions and more able to help my patients than ever before. I’ve also started to envision my career after residency – I can’t wait to be an attending physician.

2025 will be the second (and last) complete calendar year of residency. I’ll be halfway through residency on January 1, 2025. On December 31, 2025, I’ll only have 6 months left. 2025 will be a practical year for me. I’m hoping to solidify my medical knowledge and my abilities so I’m ready for residency graduation. By the time I write a post welcoming 2026 it’s highly possible I’ll have a job lined up – amazing how time flies. Yet, while I’ll focus on professional development in 2025, I’ll also work to maximize my life outside of work. On the nonwork side, my focus will be cultivating time with loved ones, embracing non-medical pursuits, and spending as much time outdoors as possible. My themes for 2025 are curiosity, resilience, and gratitude.

Curiosity

Now that I’m settled in Richmond, residency, and my 30s I’ve found that I’ve fallen into a routine of familiarity. This year I’d like to shake up that routine by jumpstarting curiosity. I’d like to see things through new eyes and challenge myself to answer questions I’ve brushed aside because they aren’t central to my daily trudge. I’d like to dig deeper and challenge myself to learn and do new things.

Resilience

Residency is hard and I feel worn down. Further, I find the negative aspects of healthcare sit heavily –examples are healthcare’s money focus and its inequity. When I’m baseline tired because of work I find it hard to flourish in non-professional aspects of life. I think 2025 is a good year to acknowledge how hard residency is and find ways to turn its challenges into strengths. While I don’t have the energy or time to do everything I’d like – I have so many opportunities. I think working as a doctor is a privilege because it allows me to touch people’s lives. I’d like to take 2025 to emphasize the good things residency offers. These good things won’t make up for the negatives but focusing on the good will help me remember that incredible growth occurs during challenging times.

Gratitude

In 2025 I’d like to take more time to be grateful. I’ve achieved my dream – I’m a doctor. I have an amazing husband, a lovely home, and a sunny place to be. It’s easy to forget to be grateful when I’m busy. I’m looking forward to carving out time for it this year.

The Last Stop on the Bus Line

I looked out the window. I’d been here before, almost 2 years previously, it was the end of the bus line. Arriving here meant I’d taken the wrong bus. There were several buses with the same number that had overlapping routes but ended in different places. The last time I’d caught this wrong bus was shortly after I moved to my Peace Corps volunteer site in Paraguay. At that time, I was still learning my community and Paraguayan culture. The first time I ended up at this bus line end, I wasn’t sure how I’d get home. The uncertainty made my heart beat faster. I asked the bus driver for directions; he had been able to help. It took several hours but I ended up home, unharmed though slightly frustrated I’d mixed up the buses.

I’d learned so much since I first visited this bus depot accidentally. Since then, Emboscada, Paraguay had become my home. Emboscada was, perhaps, the first place I’d ever lived where I was certain it was home. As the days that added up to the previous two years had unfolded, I’d found a community and made friends. I’d been a schoolteacher and connected with youth over music, English, and dreams. In my Paraguayan community, older friends had died, younger friends had married, and I’d been to parties and celebrations of every variety and magnitude you can imagine.

I looked out the window and I laughed. I was an expert, yet I still took the wrong bus and didn’t realize it until I arrived here at this bus depot. In a few short months I’d leave Paraguay. I’d say “goodbye” to the home I’d found and created. I’d return to my native country and start the Doctorhood Quest. I laughed because arriving at this bus depot wasn’t scary like it had been the first time I ended up here. I knew it would take a few hours to catch the right bus and travel to the bus stop in front of my house. I’d arrive home eventually. My little Paraguayan house would be waiting for me.

This event was about 8 years ago, yet I’ve found myself thinking about it a lot recently. I’ve been reminded of it because I recently turned a page in the Doctorhood Quest that is like what I was turning in my Peace Corps service at that time. I feel settled in my role as a resident physician. I feel comfortable with what kind of doctor I am. I am happy with what I’ve accomplished and look forward to my future goals. I had similar sentiments about my Peace Corps service while I waited for the right bus to pick me up at that last bus stop.

It might seem premature to have such contented feelings about residency. But I know that the remaining 20ish months of residency will be over soon. I have so much to learn in those remaining months. Yet I know I will learn what needs to be learned. For the first time in my journey of becoming a physician, I’m confident that I’m where I need to be. I know how to get home even when I take a wrong turn.

Being an expert isn’t about always catching the right bus, it’s about knowing how to find your way home when you catch the wrong one. It’s about being calm even when things are unexpected. It’s about embracing the journey. It’s about laughing at yourself because experiences that make you grow and challenge you also put you in ridiculous situations.

How ridiculous is it to take the wrong bus after having taken the right one 100s of times? “Quite ridiculous” is the answer. But mistakes are what make us human. We learn from mistakes, even if the lesson is simply a reminder to laugh at ourselves. Life is serious, but not so serious that we can’t appreciate its absurd moments.

35 for 35

My white hair is coming in faster than ever, but it hasn’t brightened my dark hair yet. It’s only a matter of time before the salt-and-pepper sets in – a signal to the world of the wisdom I’ve gathered. I’ll miss my dark hair when it goes, but I’ll embrace my wise look when it arrives.

When I turned 25, I posted 25 goals for 25. Below I’ve reviewed them, annotated, refreshed, and added to create a new 35 for 35 goals list.

Key:

  • Italic font: the 25 goals I had at 25-years-old
  • Crossed out: 25-years-old goal that I completed
  • Regular font: annotation
  • Bold font: my goals at 35-years-old

35 for 35, listed in no particular order:

  1. Ask for it. Done. REPLACE WITH: Finesse effective negotiation skills. Remember to apply these skills not just when negotiating for others but also when negotiating for myself.
  2. Initiate: Don’t expect someone else to do it. Done. CARRY FORWARD: Initiate: Don’t expect someone else to do it.
  3. Look for opportunities to be helpful. Done. REPLACE WITH: Advocate for underserved and marginalized populations represented within the patient population I serve.
  4. Focus on living in the moment. Note the positive things. Done. CARRY FORWARD: Live in the moment. Note the positive things.
  5. Take time to be thankful. Done. CARRY FORWARD: Take time to be thankful.
  6. Get my novel ready for review. I did this then I threw it out. I have other novel ideas for the future should I wish to pursue that kind of writing again someday. REPLACE WITH: Create a home to call my own. By age 45 that home should include a plot of land.
  7. Rock the GRE. Done plus the MCAT, all my med school exams, STEP 1, STEP 2, and STEP 3. REPLACE WITH: Pass my Internal Medicine board exam on the first try.
  8. Be diligent about journaling. I journaled throughout my time in Paraguay. I lost the habit after I returned to the US until I started residency. I’ve been journaling at least weekly almost since I started residency. UPDATE TO: Journal using daily short snippets and weekly 1-pagers.
  9. Read more. >> I read a lot of medical writing. UPDATE TO: Read more fiction and nonmedical writing.
  10. Focus on health: Eat less sugar. Control portions. >> This is still a goal and a challenge. CARRY FORWARD: Eat less sugar and control portions.
  11. Exercise every day. >> I’ve learned that exercising every day is not necessary or realistic. Exercise is, however, essential for health. Anything related to health is especially hard during residency. My current hypothesis is that residency shortens one’s life expectancy. I’m trying to dampen residency’s effect on me. I’m also trying to be healthy in general. UPDATE TO: Exercise multiple times weekly such that I feel healthy and strong.
  12. Publish consistently on Connecting the Dots. Rocking it. Hit 10 years blogging in 2023. So far, my blog has documented my entire Peace Corps service, my premedical studies and getting into medical school, medical school, and now it’s recording my thoughts as I chip away at residency. CARRY FORWARD: Publish consistently on Connecting the Dots.
  13. Learn Guaraní. >> I know some phrases, never did become fluent. Learned the important words for me. If I return to live in Paraguay I will reactivate this goal. REPLACE WITH: Stay current on the latest medical information relevant to my practice as a physician. Review uncommon and complex topics periodically to keep them on my differential and understanding.
  14. Become fluent in Castellano. >> I made great strides while in Paraguay. I’ve used so much energy to learn medicine since I returned to the US that I’ve lost some of my Spanish. UPDATE TO: Practice and study Spanish to achieve better fluency with a focus on medical Spanish.
  15. Stay in touch with my US network. Now I have an international network which evolves and changes like all living things do. REPLACE WITH: Create more opportunities to connect with family and friends.
  16. Reach out to friends in Paraguay; don’t always go it alone. Done. Remember that time I lost my key in Paraguay? I didn’t have water and needed a shower in Paraguay? Got an upset stomach and asked my Paraguayan friends for the right herb to sooth my stomach? REPLACE WITH: Get involved in several activities/organizations to diversify how I spend my time and to meet like-minded people.
  17. Hone patience. Done. REPLACE WITH: Work on calm, clarity, and patience in the setting of becoming a better teacher of medicine.
  18. Smile more. Done. REPLACE WITH: Take at least one international vacation yearly. Travel abroad as much as is possible.
  19. Learn biology, chemistry, and math. Done. I also learned medicine. REPLACE WITH: Learn to identify more local plants, trees, and birds.
  20. Make listening to podcasts part of my routine. >> I like this idea, but I don’t think it will ever happen given how I live my life. REPLACE WITH: Learn about herbal medicine and explore what role alternative medicines play in helping my patients achieve their health goals.
  21. Solidify a positive self-image. Done. Seems like forever since this was a challenge. REPLACE WITH: Push myself to learn about people who are different than me to expand my horizons and to understand others better.
  22. Listen to understand, not to respond. Done. CARRY FORWARD: Listen to understand, not to respond.
  23. Share more. Done. REPLACE WITH: Protect time to be quiet and reflect.
  24. Let the little things go. Done. CARRY FORWARD: Let the little things go.
  25. Ask more questions. Done. REPLACE WITH: Remain curious. When things become routine remember to be curious about new ways, new views, and new opportunities.
  26. Explore every national park in the US.
  27. Hike the length of Chile (chunking it is fine, though it’d be cool to do it in one go).
  28. Hike the PCT (chunking it is fine).
  29. Visit every state in the US. A visit is defined as: at least 24 hours with 3 meals, one night stay, and at least one activity other than travel.
  30. Explore every country in Central and South America that is reasonably safe for US citizens to visit.
  31. Start traveling to countries in Asia and Africa.
  32. Retrace Darwin’s path on the Beagle.
  33. Cultivate my nuclear family – which will metamorphose as time unfolds.
  34. Attain financial independence by age 55.
  35. Stay open to opportunities in my career. Push myself. Be brave enough to change and adjust as my goals and priorities evolve.

Sights Set on 2024

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.  

His house is in the village though;  

He will not see me stopping here  

To watch his woods fill up with snow.  

My little horse must think it queer  

To stop without a farmhouse near  

Between the woods and frozen lake  

The darkest evening of the year.  

He gives his harness bells a shake  

To ask if there is some mistake.  

The only other sound’s the sweep  

Of easy wind and downy flake.  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  

But I have promises to keep,  

And miles to go before I sleep,  

And miles to go before I sleep.

2023 was a year of change. My themes of focus were quietness, absorption, and forward movement. I wrapped up medical school, moved halfway down the East Coast, and started residency. Despite all the professional development, I enjoyed a 7-week adventure in Puerto Rico, visited Paraguay, hiked the 33 highest peaks in the Catskill Mountains of New York, and undertook other small hiking/traveling/outdoor excursions as the opportunity arose.

Residency leaves me tired and overworked, but my progress toward becoming the doctor I wish to be is rapid. On one hand, Frost’s line “miles to go before I sleep” is a literal interpretation of what I expect 2024 to bring professionally. I have many professional goals which will march along as the days pass. On the other hand, the “stopping by woods on a snowy evening” part of Frost’s poem (pausing in an unusual place), resonates with me as I think about my personal goals and themes for 2024. As I set my sights on 2024, three themes are on my mind: quietness, pause, and connectivity. It’ll be a year where I focus on personal health.

Quietness

This was also my first theme in 2023. I’m carrying it forward both because I think it is of utmost importance and because I still have growth to achieve in this area. Being a doctor and learning to become a better doctor involves constant stimulation and 1000s of decisions daily. Adult life is full of challenges including finances (bills and earnings), home management, and unexpected disruptions like illness. With so much happening, I find that it’s easy to get lost in the hullabaloo and lose track of my inner calmness. As the unexpected challenges of 2024 unfold, I will continue to cultivate my inner quietness because I believe it is at the core of resilience and central to success.

Pause

Related to quietness, my second theme is pause. As the hustle of life unfolds, I easily forget to stop to appreciate small and large successes and delights. In 2024, I will take time to pause so I can absorb the joys of life. Focusing on joy will train my mind to see the positive and diminish the negative.  

Connectivity

The aspect of connectivity I plan to focus on in 2024 is the mind-body connection. My medical training has been extremely demanding in multiple ways. I have watched my health decline as the doctorhood quest unfolds because of my schedule, external pressures of doctorhood and the healthcare system, and the stress of my work. While my medical training will remain vigorous throughout 2024 and beyond, in 2024, I plan to focus my free time and energy on re-cultivating my physical wellbeing. This focus on physical health combined with my focus on quietness and pause will strengthen my mind-body connection. I think cultivating my own mind-body connection will ground me as I seek to connect with my patients, colleagues, family, and friends.

10 Years Blogging

September 2023 marks 10 years of my blog Connecting the Dots. I started the blog in 2013 to document my experience in the Peace Corps in Paraguay. When I finished my Peace Corps service in April 2016, I had already formed the habit of writing and decided to keep going to share my experience of becoming a physician. Some months and years I’ve written more than others as my life unfolded this past decade. My blog has documented my time in post-bacc and as an EMT as I strived to build a resume strong enough to get into medical school. The blog was a constant as I trudged my way through 4 years of medical school. And now, after 10 years blogging, I’m 2 months into residency.

I’ve periodically wondered if I should stop blogging. Life reflection/journal blogs like mine aren’t designed to become highly successful or business ventures like other types of more broadly relevant blogs. But I keep blogging both out of a love for the writing process and because my journey has been a unique one. I suppose a key lesson that the Peace Corps and then medicine have taught me is that every human has a one-of-a-kind story that if given the opportunity to be documented as a movie or book could be the next blockbuster/best seller. Most folks, however, will lead their amazing lives and die without much of a trace. My posts about people I’ve met and lessons I’ve learned are my way of remembering all the lives I’ve intersected with as I trundle along my life journey.

The warm welcome I received in Paraguay as a Peace Corps volunteer gave me an opportunity to learn about a culture different from my own and to make life-long friends with individuals who I could not have imagined if I never did the Peace Corps. Similarly, the experience of being a doctor gives me a window into countless lives that are nothing like my own. Medicine, above all, has taught me that there is nothing as fantastic, comical, tragic, beautiful, and surprising as real people’s stories. I’m often reminded that as outlandish as any fiction story might be, reality is more extra and harder to believe.

Just like when I started my blog 10 years ago, I don’t know where I’ll be in 10 years. Reading some of my first posts, it is amazing to me how far I’ve come. I’m sure the next decade will be equally full of surprises. I can’t wait to reflect on the inevitable unforeseen events to come and then write about the highlights.

To those who have read my blog for a while, thank you for your unwavering support. To new readers, thanks for stopping by to sample and for considering future readership.  

Here are some of my favorite posts over the years (I’ve left many out for brevity):

Getting Ready for Departure – DC Chapter, 12/8/2013, on leaving DC, the city I went to undergrad and built my first career, for the Peace Corps

Ideal Boyfriend, Ideal Girlfriend, 11/10/2014, quotes from the 7th – 12th graders I taught in Paraguay describing their ideal life partners

White, 12/12/2014, on being the only white person in my Paraguayan community

Crosses in the Sand, 8/6/2015, on a uniquely Paraguayan form of ant control

Overheard In Paraguay: Friendship, 10/19/2015, on friendship that last forever

Guardian Angel, 1/23/2016, on feeling cared for

See You Soon Dearest Paraguay, 4/11/2016, on finishing my Peace Corps service in Paraguay

Determination: 2 Girls, 1 Hill, 1 Tree, and 1 Ladder, 11/12/2017, on childhood and the nature of determination

Christof, 6/25/2018, on kindness and thinking of others

Below the Surface, 12/28/2018, on returning to Paraguay and learning an unexpected lesson

Q-tips and Time, 5/16/2019, on how our perception of time changes as we age

True Love, 7/27/2019, on true love as witnessed in the ED

Memory, 5/24/2020, on thinking about how memory works

Goodbye For Now Vermont, 3/21/2021, on moving out of Vermont (again) and reflecting on my time there

A Cup of Coffee, 10/24/2021, on acts of kindness witnessed in the hospital

Together,  1/7/2022, on working as part of a diverse medical team

Echoes from the Third of Medical School, 4/12/2022, on finishing my third year of medical school

Windows to the Soul, 9/6/2022, on caring for critically ill patients

Nothing to Do but Be Happy, 2/14/2023, on waiting for medical school to end while spending a few months in Puerto Rico

Goodbye Danbury, 4/15/2023, on my time in Connecticut

What do you want to be when you grow up?, 5/25/2023, on becoming a physician

What do you want to be when you grow up?

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” one of my Paraguayan friends, who used to be my student, asked during my last visit to Paraguay.

I paused a moment before answering. I was surprised by the question because he and I don’t often talk about abstract things and because I’ve been feeling awfully grown up recently. “A doctor,” I said.

“That’s it? You don’t want to be a diplomat or someone rich or famous?” my friend asked.

“Nope,” I said.

“Oh, that’s cool,” my friend said. The conversation continued as I asked him about what he wanted to be when he grew up and we discussed more details of what I hope to do as a doctor.

I graduated from medical school on May 21, 2023. I received my resident medical license yesterday. I’m officially an MD! All that remains between me and practicing independently as a physician is residency (and fellowship if I further specialize).

People like to say “it’s hard to believe” when they achieve a particularly hard goal like graduating from medical school. But, let me tell you the truth, I don’t find it hard to believe that I graduated medical school. Why? Because I was there every minute that I studied at my desk and learned how to care for patients in the clinic and hospital. I read every test question and picked an answer. I showed up on time, managed my email inbox, pestered school administrators to get answers, and did voluntary projects to expand my learning beyond the medical school curriculum.

Becoming a MD is a lot of work; I did the work to earn my degree. Becoming an MD is also an amazing quest. I was excited when my patients were cured, I was humbled that so many people allowed me to take part in their journey to death or to better health, and I loved uncovering the mysteries of how the body works and what medicine can do. I’m grateful for every person who helped me along the way – from my family who cheered me on to the patients who let me care for them, from my classmates who struggled and soared beside me to the numerous physicians who taught me. I did the work, but becoming an MD takes a village. There were many people in my village who were my heroes and who guided and supported me as I journeyed through medical school.

The last months of medical school left me feeling awfully grown up. Grown up in the tiring kind of way. My friend’s question helped remind me how much growing is left. And how, somehow, I’m lucky enough to be growing while building my dream. Next stop on the Doctorhood Quest, residency!