Medicine

Photo by Bill Oxford on Unsplash  

The more time I have to reflect on it, the more I question my decision to go into medicine. 

Growing up in a dual physician parent household, it honestly didn't seem like many other career paths were open to me. I've joked before that immigrant parents only respect three professions: medicine, law, and engineering. I didn't like math and physics enough to be an engineer, and I didn't like arguing enough to be a lawyer. So, boom: there you have it, medicine.

But that's not entirely true. I do remember my parents encouraging me to think about other career paths, such as business. But again, the lack of enthusiasm for math loomed large and I dreaded the idea of ever having to sell anything to people. Too many people, too much smiling and having to be "on" all the time. (Ironic that I chose to go into Internal Medicine where I was constantly interacting with people... Hmm, self sabotage much?)

I don't remember when exactly, but I did wholeheartedly internalize the idea that taking a job outside of a STEM field meant I'd be a starving artist. So, even though I loved reading, writing, music, history, and learning languages, I shoved that part of me deep down inside and locked it away. Those fields were only useful as hobbies, I convinced myself. But once I got on the premed conveyor belt, the cult of medicine became all consuming, leaving no time for hobbies or creative pursuits. 

Looking back, I see so many red flags and warning signs that this wasn't the right choice for me. But I was stubborn and prideful. I thought that changing majors in college would indicate some sort of moral failing on my part. How wishy washy and indecisive, I'd think scornfully, as I looked down my nose at peers who changed majors and career trajectories several times during our undergraduate careers. In reality, I was the foolish one, stubbornly clinging to a choice I'd made at the age of 13 (or even before), just so I could have a sense of security and control; my life had direction. I knew where I was headed. Adults could point to me as an example for their "confused" children. 

I was also trapped. Trapped in this identity that I'd created for myself by the end of high school: Kristin is going to be a doctor. She got accepted into Ohio State medical school's early admissions program. What a great opportunity! How could she not take advantage of it? My senior superlative was "most likely to cure cancer." Teachers and family members joked about being on a waiting list to see me once I finished my education. Who would I be letting down by deviating from this path? 

Once I was actually in medical school, I was also trapped by student loan debt. Even though my parents graciously paid for two years of my education, I still graduated with close to six figures of debt (which is actually way less than the typical medical school graduate). I'm still in a situation where I owe my medical school money. I applied for and received a conditional scholarship if I promised to be a primary care doctor in a low income area for three years, but it was still just another loan. A loan with prettier packaging. I honestly can't envision fulfilling the terms of this "scholarship" now; I don't think my body, mind, and soul could handle it. 

Another gigantic red flag: by the end of my third year of medical school, I was diagnosed with depression. I was actively thinking of ways to kill myself. (Sadly, this is not an uncommon experience for doctors and medical students. Read anything Dr Pamela Wible has written.) Looking back, I do think if I had been more grounded spiritually, I would have been better able to handle the constant barrage of seeing other people suffering, but I wasn't. And I cracked. 

I had to take a month off during my third year of Internal Medicine residency because of depression. By then, Cameron and I were engaged, and I was finally starting to wrap my head around what my life would look like if I worked as a doctor full time as a wife and mother. I didn't like the future I was picturing: overworked, constantly stressed, not taking care of myself, squeezing in moments with my husband and kids in between being constantly "on call" for my patients via the electronic inbox. It was exhausting to think about. 

Have you ever fallen in love with the idea of someone only to find that, in reality, that person wasn't a good fit for you at all? That was me and medicine. I liked the idea of being a doctor more than actually being a doctor. I wanted to be needed, valued, appreciated. I wanted to be praised for my intelligence. I picked a career that could be noble and totally all consuming, because I (mistakenly) thought I was one of those girls that was just smart, not pretty; no one would ever want to marry me, so I better stay busy and useful somehow. (I'll probably write another post just on this. So much to unpack there.)   

How can I end this post on a positive note? 

I am thankful God allowed me to get cancer so I could come to a hard stop and evaluate my life and the direction I was going, to see the (many) areas in which I was lacking or utterly mistaken. 

I'm thankful I learned (albeit the hard way) that Christ is the true Physician; He is the only One who can grant healing (physical, emotional, spiritual), with or without doctors. 

I don't regret acquiring medical knowledge. It was useful to be an "informed" patient. It's nice to be able to help friends and family navigate their medical problems as someone who's been immersed in the medical field and can "speak the language." The knowledge I gained in a few months of Integrative Medicine fellowship convinced me to utterly revamp my diet and start intermittent fasting, as well as become more environmentally conscious. Now I'm beginning to see how that intersects with my Orthodox Christian faith via fasting and being a good steward of creation.

If I hadn't been a busy resident, I wouldn't have tried online dating and met Cameron.

I've been rediscovering my (first) love for reading and writing. 

I made some amazing friends in undergrad, medical school, and residency. In fact, three of them were my bridesmaids and I was a bridesmaid for two of my med school friends.

I do still think medicine is an honorable profession; it's just not for me. I'm extremely grateful for the doctors I know, especially my parents and the doctors who have taken care of me during my cancer journey. I love and respect the Holy Unmercenary Healers and other physician saints (St Luke of Crimea comes to mind), and ask for their intercessions daily, sometimes multiple times a day.  

Where do I go from here? Honestly, I'm not sure yet. 

I don't want to jump into anything without praying (first and foremost!), investigating my options as a physician wanting to transition into a non clinical medical career, and writing about the process. Again, I'm extremely thankful to my husband for allowing me the time to work through all this (as well as for proofreading this post).

At the moment, medical writing sounds most appealing, but I have more to learn and would certainly need to improve my writing skills before I tried to enter that field. 

Lord, as You know and as You will, have mercy.