BOOM. BOOM. A knocking on my door jolted me awake at 3am and I opened it to see one of my residents trembling and on the verge of tears. Without saying anything, he clutched my arm and led me down the hall towards his room. I began to hear agonized screams and walked in to see his roommate lying on the floor in a fetal position. He clenched his abdomen and let out a constant stream of terrified screams, only interrupted by heaves that produced blood-tinged vomit. I steadied my voice and called an ambulance before quickly calling another Resident Assistant (RA) for crowd control. I crouched to give comfort to my resident trembling on the floor and saw a few spots of dried vomit on the carpet, indicating that the condition may have had it’s onset earlier in the night. I also noticed that he set up his blanket and pillow on the ground and that his shirt was drenched, suggesting that he may have been too weak and feverish to climb into his lofted bed that night. He couldn’t speak through the pain, so I just provided comfort and kept the resident still to minimize further damage. The paramedics arrived shortly and my resident successfully underwent surgery to repair his ruptured bowel. I spent the night filling out paperwork and fielding the concerns of distraught hall mates until we received word of the resident’s safety.

This experience in my job as an RA is one of many that led me to pursue medicine. Unlike most promising prospective medical students, I did not grow up wanting to become a doctor. I always found the fragility of life to be equal parts terrifying and fascinating and my passion for learning began at a young age. I was always the kid in class who would ask instructors to explain the why’s and how’s. For example, in middle school biology, I wasn’t satisfied just being told that microscopic cells exist. I wanted to know how they functioned and why they worked in a particular way. When my teacher told me that we would not be going into those details in the course, I decided to make my final project a food-based diorama of the inside of a cell, with each food item representing the structure and function of each organelle. This passion for learning followed me into college. Naturally, in seeking the explanations of empirical truths, I believed that my purpose lay within the laboratory and I entered college steadfast on pursuing a career in research.

To immerse myself in what I thought was my main passion in life, I joined two research projects during my freshman year. One focused on behavioral studies in Betta splendens, including examining choice behavior and the effects of estradiol on mating practices. My other project involved examining the neurobiological mechanisms underlying eyeblink conditioning in rats, via surgical and chemical methods. Although I enjoy the collaboration and problem solving elements that comprise empirical research, I did not feel fulfilled. It wasn’t until I began my job as an RA that I realized the missing element was the union of my scientific curiosity with interpersonal connections.

Being an RA exposed me to situations that required a high level of maturity, interpersonal communication, and decision-making. I’ve had simple interactions, such as helping a resident with a lab report, to intensive encounters such as talking a resident on the verge of a mental break down out of committing suicide and getting them help. Although being an RA involves a lot of emotional and communicative energy, actively bringing positivity to the lives of my residents is profoundly fulfilling. Therefore, I began considering a career in medicine as a way to balance my two greatest passions: empirical science and enacting positive change through personal interactions.

Set on a new career path, I volunteered in clinical settings and read about the field of medicine, but it was the shadowing experiences that sold me on becoming a physician. I shadowed at Wake Forest Baptist Hospital and the experience gave me a view of the medical world that was not focused on simply the medical treatment of patients, but the personal side of medicine. I enjoyed accompanying the residents on rotations; I saw the pre and post-operative care and the personal interactions that I sought in a career that combined scientific observations to develop treatment regimens.

A case that showed me the importance of a cohesive doctor-patient dynamic was that of a middle-aged woman who had come in with a slipped disk. She needed surgery and was placed in the care of Dr. Woolf. While operating, Dr. Woolf noticed several bruises that were not congruent with the story of the patient. During post-operative care, the patient disclosed that she was an alcoholic and had been inebriated, causing her to fall into a glass table and resulted in the injuries. Dr. Woolf discussed with the patient how alcoholism and withdrawal could affect her healing process and assured the patient of a support network within the hospital. As the days went on, the patient quickly began succumbing to withdrawal. During rounds, Dr. Woolf would start an open and honest conversation about alcoholism with the patient, in the hopes that it may make the process of rehabilitation seem more attainable. On my last day of shadowing, the patient agreed to enroll in a rehabilitation clinic immediately following her healing process. She attributed this decision to Dr. Woolf’s willingness to engage with her, rather than making her feel forced to enter recovery or inferior for her alcoholism.

This case was absolutely amazing to witness; the level of care and honesty invested in a clinical setting was able to change a life. Although I know that not all patient circumstances end positively, seeing this level of patient care was a pivotal experience. Dr. Woolf told me cases like that drive her; the years of study, the long hours, and the responsibility culminate in those rare moments when you feel as if you have truly made a positive impact. She told me many people enter medicine for the prestige or expecting gratitude and recognition, but at the end of the day you need to feel fulfilled knowing that you do your best work for others, regardless of the outcome and needless of praise. I realized then that, although I enjoyed my roles in the lab and as a resident assistant, I did not feel fulfilled because I couldn’t produce my best work with a job that lent itself to only half of my passion. However, I’ve seen that medicine would allow me to utilize what brings me the most happiness in life: the frontier of empirical study and the importance of human connection.