For most of my life, I never truly understood what it meant to be a doctor. As the first in my family to pursue medicine, my understanding of healthcare was shaped by occasional doctor visits and, admittedly, unrealistic portrayals on TV. Like many other students in this position, I was naïve about what the profession would entail.
I began my undergraduate journey as a chemical engineering major, drawn to its problem-solving aspects. I soon realized, however, it lacked the interpersonal connection I craved. I wanted to solve problems that made a direct impact on people’s lives, so I switched to pre-med—a leap of faith that turned out to be one of my best decisions.
Working as a scribe in a Level 1 trauma center’s emergency department (ED) was my first real step toward becoming a doctor. The hospital’s proximity to my old high school added familiarity to the otherwise complex environment. The fast pace and unpredictability of each shift kept me on my toes, and I constantly learned from both physicians and patients. No two days were alike.
What struck me most about the ED was seeing my community through a new lens. Growing up in the area, I thought I knew it well, but the ED revealed stark contrasts between the stability I was accustomed to and the struggles others faced just blocks away. This was a sobering reminder of the healthcare and quality-of-life disparities that exist within the same zip code.
This duality—the exciting clinical work and the raw realities of people’s lives—highlighted the emotional weight of medicine. It’s one thing to be fascinated by diagnosing a rare condition and another to comfort a patient’s family during a moment of loss. Balancing these intellectual and emotional demands is something all healthcare providers must learn. Medicine forces you to confront human suffering while pushing you to continuously learn and improve.
As I progress through medical school, I realize that this balance—between clinical curiosity and emotional connection—is what makes medicine so special. Each patient teaches me not only about disease, but also about humanity. The term “lifelong learner” has taken on a deeper meaning. I now understand it’s not just about keeping up with the latest treatments, but also about continually learning from the people we serve.
One of the hardest lessons in medicine has been accepting the long, uncertain journey. It’s easy to compare yourself to peers who are settling into stable careers while we medical students face years of schooling, mounting debt and uncertainty dictated by residency match results. At times, it feels like life is on hold, and it’s hard not to feel left behind.
Initially, this uncertainty made me anxious, and I wanted to fast-forward a few years to being an attending physician with a stable career. But over time, I’ve realized focusing too much on the destination can cause me to miss the importance of the journey itself. Medicine is about learning, growing and evolving every day. Each patient interaction, new diagnosis and moment of doubt shape the kind of physician I will become. The challenges, the wins, and the experience are just as valuable as the ultimate goal.
This perspective shift has helped me reframe setbacks. Rather than seeing them as roadblocks, I view them as essential to my growth. Medical school isn’t a straight path to becoming a doctor—it’s a winding journey that requires patience, resilience and being present in each moment. The skills and emotional intelligence I’m gaining now are just as valuable, if not more so, than the eventual title of “doctor.”
These shifts in mindset have helped me through challenging personal experiences as well. Balancing emotions with the demands of medical school is not easy, but medicine has taught me resilience. Delivering bad news to a patient or making time-sensitive decisions under pressure requires emotional strength beyond textbook knowledge. Medicine has shown me how to face uncertainty, compartmentalize when necessary and keep moving forward despite feeling overwhelmed. So when difficult moments from my personal life still hurt, I embrace resilience by recognizing these moments don’t have to derail my progress or dictate my future success. Emotional resilience, like medical knowledge, is something you build over time through every experience, whether in the hospital or outside of it.
This mindset has also helped me resist the temptation to chase the next milestone and instead focus on the present. In medicine, clear benchmarks define progress, but the beauty of the journey lies in the constant growth and discovery along the way. The more I focus on the present, the more I learn—not just about medicine, but about myself. Medicine has matured me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated, and for that, I am deeply grateful.
Through learning about diseases, treatments and patient care, I’ve also gained a deeper understanding of my strengths, limitations and values. The intellectual demands of medicine are immense, but the personal growth has been just as profound. Every patient interaction teaches me something new—not just about pathology, but about compassion, empathy and the complexity of the human condition. Medicine has shown me how to navigate uncertainty, cope with loss and manage the weight of responsibility in ways that have fundamentally reshaped who I am for the better.
Looking back, I could never have predicted how much I would change. When I decided to pursue medicine, I was driven by an idealized version of the profession, shaped by a limited perspective of health care. I was naïve about the depth and complexity of this field and the emotional highs and lows that come with it. That naïveté has evolved into a deep appreciation for medicine and an acknowledgment of how far I’ve come. Though the years of training ahead are daunting, I find comfort in knowing that the personal growth I’ve experienced is just the beginning. By the time I complete my career as a physician, I will have learned not only about medicine, but about life in ways I could have never imagined.
Image Credit: “Why?” (CC BY-SA 2.0) by quinn.anya
Contributing Writer
University of Arizona College of Medicine - Tucson
Claire is a medical student at the University of Arizona College of Medicine - Tucson in the class of 2027. In 2022, she graduated from Arizona State University's Barrett, the Honors College with a Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry with a minor in Mathematics. In her free time, she enjoys running, road cycling, and baking.