Columnist
Case Western Reserve University School of Medicine
Neha is a third year MD candidate at Case Western Reserve University School of Medicine. To combat the cold and snow in Cleveland, Neha spends her time napping, exploring art museums, and taking the local brunch world by storm, one sweet confection at a time. When she has saved up enough money, she plans to go on a world tour and visit every single capital of every single country.
Mind Your Mind
A very important but rarely discussed topic is that of mental health in medical practitioners, notably medical students. According to a study in the Student British Medical Journal, 30% of medical students report having a mental health condition—with a majority of 80% stating the level of available support was poor or only moderately adequate. This column was born from these alarming statistics and aims to stimulate conversation on mental health in medical students, from providing suggestions on how to maintain one’s mental health to discussing the taboo and stigma surrounding conversations on mental health in practitioners/students and how to eliminate it.
Unlike me, a lot of my medical school peers are involved in dance activities, from ballroom to hip-hop, and claim that going to dance classes really helps them shake off any negative feelings from the day. Intrigued, I did a little research. Sure enough, I found several articles espousing the beneficial effects of dance on mental health.
I’m sure we’ve all heard the phrase, “Laughter is the best medicine,” but how many of us really believe that laughter has a positive physiologic effect on us?
In a recent article entitled “In Defense of Step 2 Clinical Skills,” Dr. Ken Simons, senior associate dean for graduate medical education and accreditation at the Medical College of Wisconsin, argues the current student-led campaign to end the USMLE Step 2 CS examination is misguided and potentially dangerous.
A very important topic is that of mental health in medical practitioners, notably medical students. According to a study in the Student British Medical Journal, 30% of medical students report having a mental health condition — with a majority of 80% stating the level of available support was poor or only moderately adequate. This column was born from these alarming statistics and aims to stimulate conversation on mental health in medical students, from providing suggestions on how to maintain one’s mental health to discussing the taboo and stigma surrounding conversations on mental health in practitioners and students, and how to eliminate it.
Whenever I hear the word “burnout,” I’m reminded of the ugly, oh-so-dark side of being a medical student, the side that hides in the shadows, away from the prestige and privilege that comes with the noble profession. Maybe it seems like I’m exaggerating; I mean, it’s just me jumping to conclusions when I associate the feelings of being overworked with the days where I can’t seem to find the bright side of anything, right?
A very important topic is that of mental health in medical practitioners, notably medical students. According to a study in the Student British Medical Journal, 30% of medical students report having a mental health condition — with a majority of 80% stating the level of available support was poor or only moderately adequate. This column was born from these alarming statistics and aims to stimulate conversation on mental health in medical students, from providing suggestions on how to maintain one’s mental health to discussing the taboo and stigma surrounding conversations on mental health in practitioners and students, and how to eliminate it.
A fellow student writer recently wrote that she wondered if depression were “just part of life as a medical student.” One of her professors had given a lecture on depression asking students to “think of how many people we knew with the signs of depression listed on his lecture slide” — excluding medical students of course, “because you’ve all got some of these.” There is something so terribly and inherently wrong with that statement.
It should be no surprise that when I asked my fellow medical students their suggestions for ways to de-stress, one of the first answers I heard from all of them was: “Yoga.” I should admit that I have always been a bit skeptical of yoga — I enjoyed cardio-based workouts far more. However, after doing some research, I found a study by Bansal et al. which found that medical students in India who did yoga every day for just one month showed significant improvements in both their general and mental wellbeing.
Doctored: The Disillusionment of an American Physician is Dr. Sandeep Jauhar’s second book. In keeping with good narrative nonfiction, Jauhar offers a mix of personal stories, thoughtful interludes and an obvious effort to back up claims with facts and statistics. He offers compelling anecdotes, which allow the reader to situate him or herself into the context of health care in New York City. These personal vignettes are especially helpful for highlighting concepts difficult to discuss; an ethical dilemma or complex criticism of the health care system becomes much easier to understand when tied to a tangible person or place.
To me, hitting a tennis ball is a symbol of how we as medical students perceive mental health: we know very well what habits are good for us and which are not. We know that we need eight to nine hours of sleep each night, a healthy diet and regular exercise. We know to engage in positive thinking, to nurture healthy relationships while cutting out toxic ones and to take time to “take care of ourselves” even when we are at our most stressed.
There’s a lot of talk about mindfulness these days — its importance, its effectiveness, the benefits of meditation and even the structural changes in the brain that result from it. (Do you want a less reactive amygdala and increased neuronal density in the hippocampus? Meditate!) It’s one thing to read about the benefits of doing something, but as many know, it’s another thing to actually apply it and understand it. So how can medical students use stress reduction strategies “in the context of the high-stakes, high-stress and time-limited environment of medical school.”
I climbed into bed on October 11 excited: for the first time in years, I could pinpoint what I was feeling — I was happy. Pure, simple happiness, something that had eluded me for years in the throes of depression and anxiety as a teenager, was a feeling I could recognize again. Wow, I thought, maybe this will be my year.
Writer-in-Training, Columnist and in-Training Staff Member
Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine
Aishwarya is a second year medical student at the Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine. She relishes any opportunity to talk policy, social determinants of health, mental health parity and inclusion topics. Outside of school, Aishwarya enjoys yoga, green tea with lemon and copious amounts of dark chocolate.
Doctor of Policy
Doctor of Policy is a column dedicated to exploring and challenging contemporary health policy issues, especially in the fields of behavioral health, health care access, and inclusion, all from the eyes of a public health girl in a basic sciences world
