And now introducing

I'm starting residency. Tomorrow is the first day I will introduce myself as "Doctor" to patients.

I'm in the Primary Care/ Social Internal Medicine program at Montefiore Medical Center, in the Bronx. More on that later. In essense, public health + internal medicine + primary care.

Two years ago, I was taking a leave of absence from medical school to pursue an MFA in poetry at Brooklyn College. I had started my fourth year prior to leaving, and had thus spent close to three months in the "sub" intern role, with a greater degree of autonomy and individual work with patients than during my third year.

Prior to leaving, I wrote a blog post called "The Luckiest," referring to (at the time) medical students, poised on the path of an incredible career. (Reposted below)

This is something to recall, and something that, even on the bad days, is still true.

Today, tomorrow is the first day, but it's also the nth day of a path I've been on for a long time. Steep learning curve, steps you learn how to barely jump or grasp with determined fingertips. I'm still convinced--and I hope to remain convinced, most of the time--that, for me, this is one of the best things, and it is absolutely the right thing. Right now.

The Luckiest

I wrote this in the middle of my fourth year of medical school, before taking a year off to go to New York for an MFA in poetry.

August 2011


It’s said in many ways.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Nostalgia in looking back.

Selective memory.

And, per Ben Folds, “The Luckiest.”

This usually refers to, I think, people/place/thing. Certainly people. Certainly place. Time period. Self at a different stage of life.

It’s not usually used in reference to career.

It’s now been three days since I was an active medical student.

And I miss it. A significant lot.

I can’t wait to be a doctor.

Before I started med school, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to get to go to medical school. I’ve had a lot of privilege in my life. This is one of the greatest, most amazing, most incredulous ones.

What I’ve done, what I’m doing, what I will be doing.

I was let into this hallowed profession – in some places, hallowed, darkened halls – in which I get to learn all about the body. Get to. And I get to interact with people in the most intimate way, at their most vulnerable – they trust me, let me in. I have to earn that trust.

Starting, and before starting, I didn’t understand that sacred trust. It’s something I continue to learn, every day. And I am amazed.