“I want to use the art of medicine to meet the individual needs of my patients.” These words emanated from the computer as I stared at the Zoom screen. Two large, soft brown eyes, accompanied by a toothy smile, stared straight at me, all framed within a silk hijab, one which was ocean blue with a wisp of pink at the edge. My heart skipped a beat as the reflected light from the window made a harsh glare across my thick glasses.
She gathered her thoughts, briefly looked off the screen, and continued her monologue, one so genuine that I suddenly forgot everything I had been worrying about, whatever that was. Moments before, I had been emotionally hungover, the predictable result of a day in which I had scurried between the office, hospital, and back and forth between a variety of emotional disasters, all of which clamored for my attention. I was not in the frame of mind to do interviews and I had forgotten to use the bathroom. And now, I sat frozen in my swivel chair.
Conducting this interview was, from one perspective, just another appointment. And lumped together, these events had weighed me down on a Friday, one with no end in sight. My office manager, Lisa, had left me a large bag of M&M’s, but I was in front of the computer now and struggled to pay attention. I wanted a cup of coffee and two Tylenol, and maybe a nap.
Charmed by these words, I stepped out of my head and into her story. “Who are your role models?” I asked and, having read her personal statement about being raised by a single mother in Syria, I wasn’t surprised by her answer. This woman, whose eyes beamed with mirth and compassion, recounted her first exposure to health care when her mother, who did not have childcare, took her along as she cleaned her local hospital. It was an origin story more resembling the Old Testament than the modern world, positively Promethean in its scope.
I stopped thinking about my headache and, as she continued, I found myself a passenger on a global story of conflict and war, resettlement and immigration. Woven into this nomadic tale was a woman’s primordial love for science and, eventually, medicine. Each time she landed in a new country, she grew her knowledge. With each new school, skills were acquired and horizons broadened. I quietly found myself disarmed, as black eyebrows darted up and down, punctuating the story.
“I want to be a part of the change.” This short phrase, which could have sounded trite and disingenuous from another source, was presented as a living artifact, one thoughtfully polished over time. I had no idea if this remarkable woman would be a member of my first residency class next year, but her spirit was contagious and I was inspired by meeting her.
So often, I am absorbed in the frustrations of the health care “system” in West Virginia, one which is illogical and—honestly—does not serve our citizens. I often find myself tired with a headache, ready to succumb to feelings that it is all just too damn annoying to continue. Trying to be an agent of change is sometimes overwhelming, and I often come up short. Did I mention I had forgotten to use the restroom?
But this story forced me to review my personal journey to being a residency director, a position of immense privilege. After college, I attended med school and then residency, all without anyone shooting at me or attacking my homeland. Had I really ever contemplated the simplicity of my own life’s arc? I operated from a position of respect and autonomy. When I spoke, people listened, and sometimes I was handed chocolate and sparkling water, just for doing my job.
When this particular Friday finally ended, I had a stark reminder that my personal doctor problems are trifles in a world of visceral pain and suffering, a fresh understanding that the opportunity to serve in medicine is a gift. And, while much of this came easily in my life, some people have fought, actually battled, their whole lives to wear a white coat and serve humanity. Despite obstacles, war, and sometimes actual deserts, their humanity burns bright and their eyes sparkle.
Ryan McCarthy is an internal medicine physician.
