“No, but we literally cannot win,” my roommate lamented as we sat, still scrub-clad, sunken into the living room couch as I traced my name through the condensation on the bottle of bud-light lime I was holding. Another exhausting week of medical school complete, my colleagues and I always seem to circle back to the same topic of discussion. Prior to beginning my clinical years of medical school I had always anticipated grasping real-life pathophysiology while attempting  to develop clinical gestalt would the most daunting challenge of these years. Don’t get me wrong, these tasks are incredibly demanding, but what I had not expected was the challenge of constant adaptation. In addition to navigating the intersection between science and human experience, we are tasked with navigating the intersection between our comfort zone and our everyday reality. I cannot imagine what it would be like to go to the same workplace everyday, with the same colleagues, and the same expectations. Medical curriculum has this cruel way of allowing you just enough time to feel comfortable (whether in an office, a specialty, or with a specific provider) and then snatching that feeling of certainty away with the expectation that you are ready to thrive as you are unceremoniously plopped into the next new environment. We are constantly being watched, criticized, and evaluated. This, at times, is arguably the most exhausting part of medical school. Given the nature of the curriculum it oftentimes feels impossible to impress those you are working with because everyone has different expectations,  there is different information you are expected to convey, and different roles you are to play within the healthcare team; we relentlessly work to please, to improve, and to adapt. With this said, I take comfort in two ideas: natural to the process of constant change and adaptation is the exposure to many unique experiences, and with pieces of these experiences I have the opportunity to mold myself into the physician that I aim to become. Additionally, the ability to be resilient and enter each new situation with some semblance of confidence is a quality that can be transferred to all aspects of life.

During my surgery rotation I learned to adapt to being frequently reprimanded, putting that aside, and continuing to do the job. I learned that when given minimal information or instruction, always ask questions because this will be in the best interest of the patient. During neurology I learned to take a good history because, more often than not, the patient is giving you the answer. In cardiology I learned background is everything, look at records and always paint a picture of the patient in order to understand them at present time. In psychiatry, I learned to adapt to having little guidance and the importance of making the most of a rotation as a self-motivated learner. During Family Medicine I learned how to adapt to a new office environment, and quickly develop relationships with the staff who are helping me care for patients. In Emergency Medicine, I’ve learned take ownership of my patients as I make the transition from student to doctor.

What I have realized is that from these experiences of being forced outside of my comfort zone, I have grown resilient and confident in other aspects of my life. I have learned to communicate better, I have learned the value of just picking up the phone to ask questions, I have learned to be aggressive with what I want to accomplish, and I have learned to be more compassionate and understanding. This has been a beautiful byproduct of what seems like an everyday struggle. My goal is to reflect upon these sentiments in the future when I am working with medical students. I aim to acknowledge the difficulty of constant adaptation and feelings of unmet expectations, conveying the message that this process ultimately makes us better both professionally and personally.

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