I was having one of those days in medical school where the weight of everything felt crushing—the pressure to be perfect, the constant comparisons to my peers, and the nagging doubt of whether I truly belonged here. It felt like I was running a race on a treadmill—no matter how fast I went, I was never getting any closer to the finish line. The harder I pushed, the more distant my goal seemed, leaving me with that persistent, nagging thought: Am I really cut out for this? It wasn’t just my abilities I began to question—it was as though my sense of purpose was fading, becoming harder to grasp with each passing day, as if I was losing sight of why I started this journey in the first place.
In need of a break, I turned to The Bear on Hulu, hoping to escape, even if just for a while. Although, like any medical student, I felt initial guilt in indulging in this free time. What I didn’t expect was that within a simple three-minute scene, I would find something that would resonate so deeply it would shift my entire perspective. Watching the conversation between Luca, a master pastry chef, and Marcus, an eager but uncertain baker, I suddenly found clarity in the very thing I had been struggling with for weeks.
In the scene, Luca—a masterful pastry chef—talks to Marcus, a young, hopeful baker, about the true essence of growth. It’s not found in moments of instant success or inborn talent, Luca explains, but in the willingness to embrace failure, to learn from mistakes, and to return with renewed effort. His words landed like a revelation, cutting through the noise of self-doubt that had been clouding my mind. It wasn’t about being perfect from the start; it was about showing up, failing, and trying again. I couldn’t help but laugh when Marcus asked, “How did you get good at this?”—the very same question I had nervously posed to my senior resident just days before. It was at that moment I realized that the path to mastery isn’t about avoiding mistakes but about learning to navigate through them.
In that moment, I realized I had been lost—chasing a version of success that didn’t leave room for imperfection. I had been holding myself to impossibly high standards, forgetting that this journey isn’t a sprint to mastery; it’s a slow, deliberate climb. It’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. And progress, I now understood, demands failure. But it’s not just about making mistakes—it’s about learning to fail well, to reflect, to adapt, and to keep pushing forward. Luca’s words reframed failure for me; it was no longer something to fear or hide from, but something essential to the process of becoming, not just a doctor, but a better version of myself.
I had been consumed by comparisons—constantly weighing my worth against the abilities of my peers, residents, and attendings and of course the worst of all… Uworld. But Luca’s wisdom offered a different perspective: I had been missing the point. My peers were not benchmarks to measure myself against, but resources. Each of them carried their own strengths, experiences, and insights. Instead of allowing their achievements to magnify my insecurities, I needed to see them as guides on this journey. We all have something to offer to one another, and true growth happens when we lift each other up. I can’t count the number of times I have adopted new perspectives or approaches to my clinical reasoning just by simply observing my classmates perform at their best. The key was stepping outside of my own self-doubt long enough to realize that by leaning on those around me, I could grow far beyond what I imagined.
The same went for the residents and doctors I had been comparing myself to. They weren’t there to intimidate me; they were there to guide me. These seasoned professionals weren’t unattainable figures—they were teachers, mentors, and, most importantly, humans who had walked this path before me. Their goal wasn’t to highlight my shortcomings, but to offer me the wisdom they had gained through their own struggles. Instead of thinking, I don’t know if I’ll ever reach that level, I needed to remind myself that every day I show up, I’m getting closer. Every interaction, every case, every stumble is another step forward. I needed to shift my focus from judging my success by the finish line and start rewarding myself for each effort along the way. Growth is subtle, but it’s always there if we choose to notice it.
That scene also reminded me that medical school is, in many ways, about finding what works for me. Luca’s advice to Marcus about discovering his own path, his own techniques, struck a chord with me. It was a reminder that there is no single “right way” to succeed. Just as Marcus had to experiment, fail, and adjust in the kitchen, I needed to do the same in my studies and in the hospital. This time isn’t just about absorbing information—it’s about discovering how I learn best, how I connect with patients, and how I navigate the challenges of medicine. It’s okay if my process looks different from someone else’s, as long as I’m learning, adapting, and growing with each step. Additionally, it reminded me of the artistry of medicine. Once we learn our foundations and skills, we should be encouraged to add our personal touch and creativity to our approaches, creating a colorful canvas of humanism.
One of the biggest takeaways from that conversation was the importance of staying curious. Luca’s passion for his craft and his willingness to keep learning, even after achieving so much, was a reminder that curiosity is key to self-growth and improvement. In medicine, curiosity drives us to ask questions, to dig deeper, and to never settle for surface-level understanding. It’s what pushes us to become better doctors, not just by mastering the material, but by continually seeking to expand our knowledge and understanding.
Luca’s openness to new ideas and different perspectives was something I needed to adopt. In medicine, we often come in with our own biases, with rigid plans for our careers, and with preconceived notions about how things should be. But the reality is, we’re given a rare opportunity to interact with people from all walks of life, to learn from individuals who have different experiences and perspectives. By being open to these diverse viewpoints, we can grow not just as doctors, but as human beings. The more open we are, the more we can truly take advantage of the incredible learning opportunities that medical school offers.
Looking back, I see that my obsession with high standards of achievement was holding me back from reaching my true potential. Medical school isn’t about being perfect; it’s about learning, growing, and improving every day in your own unique way. Luca’s advice to Marcus in that scene from The Bear helped me understand that the journey to becoming a doctor is much like the journey to becoming a great chef—it’s messy, it’s full of mistakes, but it’s also rich with opportunities for growth. By embracing the process, leaning on others for support, and staying curious and open-minded, I’m giving myself the chance to reach my full potential, not just as a student, but as a future physician.
Sandra is a third-year medical student at The Ohio State College of Medicine in Columbus, Ohio class of 2026. In 2020, she graduated from UCLA with a Bachelor of Arts in psychology. She enjoys various forms of exercises like cycling, boxing, rowing and strength training, playing drums, writing and reading in her free time. After graduating medical school, Sandra would like to pursue internal medicine.