We’ve all felt it—the guilt.

There’s a special brand of and specific aroma to the guilt associated with the time we spend doing anything other than studying. From Foundations, to Modules, to Step exams, it never seems to stop. And with board exams being a thing, it does not seem like it will stop any time soon.

We can all agree that there is an immense responsibility thrust upon each of us as we literally learn the science behind the complexity of our being and undertake a role as healers. But an unwell healer is not only ironic, but also of little help to others.

Physicians and physicians-in-training often joke about being the ‘worst’ patients. Well, that joke is quickly losing its humorous value as staggering stats about physician suicide rates exist. Neglecting your health and wellbeing to address the care of others seems altruistic, but it can result in minor and major tragedies. Often, the path to these tragedies is a slow fade—getting less sleep, missing major life events, or even forgoing hobbies that once brought us joy. So, in the spirit of medicine, let’s do some preventative care!

Go back outside and do so guilt-free. Or, stay in and read a book from your to-read shelf you’ve put to the side.

Think of who you were outside before you arrived at McGovern and rekindle those lost passions. You are not being irresponsible if your leisure time is not spent reading Pathoma.

There is a life—an abundant one—beyond the books. 

This October, I would like to spotlight Francesca Woodman’s photography. In particular, I would like to write about one of her pictures that has haunted me ever since I first saw it years ago. It is difficult to give this picture a proper introduction since there isn’t one to begin with. It was never given a proper title, except for its posthumous detail: ‘Francesca Woodman, Providence, Rhode Island, 1975-76. Gelatin silver print’. The intimacy of this one moment in time seems as though it was always meant to be forgotten, lost, obscured. A memory without a name. 

In this picture, she stands beside a half-opened door, with forearms bent as if ready to conjure a spell into the emptiness of an abandoned house. The paint feels worn, the wallpaper’s peeling, and yet the door remains open. The only living, or should I say supernatural proof that someone or something came and went. Behind that door, we can only see a darkness as black as Woodman’s shadow. But we can also feel her lightness. Her skirt betrays what her shadow tries in vain to materialize. If we look up close, then we can see it. We can see her spectral presence in the subtle play of her floral dress. Because not even the technical precision of a camera could capture the life of Woodman completely. As much as her self-portraits might reveal glimmers and shades of her character, she seems just as likely to slip through your fingers as softly as a ghost. 

I always come back to that half-opened door. It suggests possibility, a future however uncertain. I suppose we all have to face up to such unknowns at some point in our lives. But may we all have the resolve of Woodman to look directly into the camera, daring it to capture what cannot be captured, a life of ours to hold.

If I were to look back on my years of medical school, the biggest piece of advice I’d give myself and my peers would be to go out and play more! It’s so easy to get caught up in what everyone else is doing, how everyone is studying, are you studying enough, etc. But really, you know much more than you think. Give yourself some space to just relax and enjoy these couple of years where you have relatively more chill responsibilities, especially during 1st and 2nd year of medical school. I know it’s easy to say, but I really encourage you to take time to just do what makes you happy. Carve out time each day and each week to get outside of your study spot, get outside of the house, and just breathe. Getting out, getting some sunshine, and doing things that make you happy are critical to staying afloat. As medical students, we are all very fixated on how well we’re doing when it comes to our academics and career, but not fixated enough on how well we’re doing as humans.

I’ve often heard that diamonds are made under pressure. But just as important is that bread dough rises when you let it rest. As medical school has gone by, the latter has begun to sit more well with me. Not only because I got very into baking during the pandemic, but also because I learned to slow down and learn at my own pace, not being governed by how others around me were doing. I felt that previously when I was pushing myself to learn medical facts and pathways, I was getting burnt out quickly, and only learning information to succeed on a test. Recently, I’ve really come to slow down and start learning things for the joy of knowing the information, which has made a difference. I am able to retain more information that is meaningful to me.

At the end of the day, you have already worked so hard to get to where you are. You are already a success story – do not sell yourself short. You can give yourself permission to rest and relax a little bit as you gear up towards the next stage of your career. You’re going to need some good R&R to keep moving forward! We at McGovern are so proud of you and everything you’ve been through to get here thus far. You know who’s even more proud of you? Your previous self. So get out there and take some time to show yourself some love – take advantage of the fall weather before it gets colder! 

| Amber Chen, MS4

Hungry Apple Monsters

Deviled Eggs

Chickpea and Black Bean Salad

Pumpkin Cheesecake Bars