Tag: Goals

Categories
Clinical General Healthcare Costs Healthcare Disparities Law Public Health Quality Improvement

On Public Charge

A step forward or a step back from self-sufficiency?

By: Souma Kundu

At the start of 2020, I remember the Trump administration celebrating what it saw as a victory for “self-sufficiency,” and “protecting law-abiding legal citizens from undue tax burdens”. Following a battle in the lower court, in a much-anticipated Supreme Court ruling, the court sided 5-4 with the administration, allowing enforcement of the 2019 expansion of the Public Charge rules.

This court ruling on Public Charge marks only the latest iteration of a policy dating back to the 1882 Immigration Act. While the definition and enforcement has varied over time, the essence of the law remains true to its origins: immigrants who are deemed unable to take care of themselves without becoming dependent on public assistance are unsuitable for American citizenship and therefore denied entry. Historically, public charge was determined by a holistic review of an applicant’s circumstances including age, health, financial status, education and skills. The use of public benefits for cash assistance and long-term institutionalization could be considered in this review, but other programs such as nutritional/housing assistance or public insurance were not included. In 2019, the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) expanded on the existing criteria to consider public benefits such as supplemental nutrition assistance, Medicaid or public housing. Additionally, it stipulated that the use of any of these public benefits for more than twelve months within any 36 month period may classify an applicant as a “public charge” effectively making them ineligible for permanent residency.

At the heart of this policy’s long-standing history is a deep-rooted belief that self-reliance is inextricably linked to the worth of an individual. It also posits that requiring public assistance is not only a burden to society, but one that is unlikely to be paid off or utilized for eventual gain.

But is this policy, and its predecessors really helping us increase self-sufficiency? Or is it robbing the US of its vast current and future population of contributing citizens? Even more pressing in 2020, is the impact of enforcing public charge during a pandemic leading to an underutilization of health care and resources only to increase morbidity and mortality across the nation?

From the lens of a healthcare worker, the general concern that efforts to rehabilitate lead to dependence baffles me. In medicine, from a sprained ankle to a surgery, achieving ultimate goals of “returning maximum function” all depend on how we can aid the healing process along the way. Generally, the use of a brace to offload the weight of a broken foot is not contested. Neither is the need for physical therapy to retrain our muscles after injury. But when it comes to rehabilitation of a person, our nation is much more skeptical of the process.

The abundance of research in the US and other countries on long-term effects of various welfare programs such as cash assistance, nutrition, and housing, point to the overwhelming benefits to the health of the recipients. Interestingly, benefits can also be seen towards community, by way of increased rates of labor participation, education attainment, employment status and productivity (Banerjee, Blattman, et. al). In a 2019 study on long-term economic impacts of childhood Medicaid, researchers found Medicaid-eligible children had higher wages starting in their twenties with wages increasing as they age. By the time these children reach age 28, their expected annual tax on earnings will return 58 cents for each Medicaid dollar spent to the government (Brown 2020). Providing basic human needs can be life changing – and it seems not just an ethical imperative, but a sound investment.

As many physicians, policy makers, immigration lawyers and researchers have feared, the changes to public charge determination is adding fear and confusion, resulting in underutilization of services available to immigrant families. Even programs such as the Children’s Health Insurance Program (CHIP), which is exempt from public charge review, have experienced a decrease in utilization.  An early impact study of public charge since enforcement began in February 2020, showed a 1% increase in the US’ noncitizen population that was associated with a 0.1% drop in child Medicaid use, estimated as a decline in coverage of 260,000 children. Researchers attribute this drop in enrollment to the fear and misinformation spreading amongst immigrants around public charge (Barofsky 2020).

As a medical student in San Diego where roughly two-thirds of our county’s population is Spanish-speaking, the impact of fear-mongering could not be more clear. Since the start of the pandemic, our once overflowing children’s hospital emergency department has been eerily quiet. Parents are worried for the safety of their families at the cost of health consequences from delays in care. At a time when access to medical care is imperative, our patients without documentation fear being turned away, or worse, turned in.

Meanwhile, disenrollment affects more than just immigrant families foregoing public assistance. Safety-net hospitals which rely heavily on Medicaid and CHIP payment are estimated to be at risk for a loss of $68 billion in health care services for Medicaid and CHIP enrollees (Raphael 2020). A drop in Medicaid enrollees will lead to increases in uncompensated care, lower Medicaid and CHIP revenue, alongside the cost of complications and emergencies secondary to foregoing early/preventive care. The fear and reluctance that public charge has created is not a simple reduction in federal spending, but rather a shifting of the burden with downstream financial havoc.

With the ample evidence that negates the assertion that the use of public assistance dooms one to a lifetime of dependency, and evidence to the contrary, that foregoing use has downstream effects on society, I urge us to rethink the dominant narrative around welfare and its implications for our nation. If we reject the belief that we must limit the use of public resources in favor of nurturing our communities most in need, we are much more likely to manifest our nation’s values of self-sufficiency and unlocking its potential. I’m not asking you to give up on self-reliance, I’m asking you to invest in it.

References:

  1. Blattman C, Jamison J, Green E, Annan J. The returns to cash and microenterprise support among the ultra-poor: a field experiment. SSRN Journal. Published online 2014.
  2.  Banerjee AV, Hanna R, Kreindler G, Olken BA. Debunking the stereotype of the lazy welfare recipient: evidence from cash transfer programs worldwide. SSRN Journal. Published online 2015.
  3. Brown DW, Kowalski AE, Lurie IZ. Long-term impacts of childhood medicaid expansions on outcomes in adulthood. Review of Economic Studies. 2020;87(2):792-821.
  4. Barofsky J, Vargas A, Rodriguez D, Barrows A. Spreading fear: the announcement of the public charge rule reduced enrollment in child safety-net programs: study examines whether the announced change to the federal public charge rule affected the share of children enrolled in medicaid, snap, and wic. Health Affairs. 2020;39(10):1752-1761.
  5. Raphael JL, Beers LS, Perrin JM, Garg A. Public charge: an expanding challenge to child health care policy. Academic Pediatrics. 2020;20(1):6-8.
Categories
Clinical Community Service Emotion Empathy General Healthcare Disparities Opinion Public Health

Let Me Be Brief: Community Leadership

A series of briefs by Texas Medical Students

By: Fareen Momin, Sereena Jivraj, and Melissa Huddleston

In the ever-evolving field of medicine, it is no surprise that the idea of leadership in medicine has changed over the years. Some physicians have engaged in additional leadership in the context of politics. In fact, several physicians signed the Declaration of Independence.1 Today, physician community leadership extends much further. Physicians can engage with their communities and beyond via virtual platforms. Physician “influencers” use social media to provide quick answers to patients, and physician-patient interactions on Twitter alone have increased 93% since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic.2 With physician voices reaching ever-larger audiences, we must consider the benefits and ramifications of expanding our roles as community leaders.

Medicine and politics, once considered incompatible, are now connected.3 There is a long list of physician-politicians, and community members often encourage physicians to run for political office, as in the case of surgeon and former representative Tom Price.4 Physicians are distinctly equipped to provide insight and serve as advocates for their communities.5 Seeking to leverage this position, a political action committee (PAC), Doctors in Politics, has an ambitious desire to send 50 physicians to Congress in 2022, so they can advocate for security of coverage and freedom for patients to choose their doctor.6-7 There are dangers, however, when physicians take on this additional leadership role. For example, Senator Rand Paul (R-Ky.), an ophthalmologist, has spread medical misinformation, telling those who have had COVID-19 to “throw away their masks, go to restaurants, and live again because these people are now immune.”8

It is not practical for even those medical students who meet age requirements to run for office. What we can do is use our collective voice to hold our leaders accountable, especially when they represent our profession. We can create petitions to censure physicians who have caused harm and can serve as whistleblowers when we find evidence of wrong-doing perpetrated by healthcare professionals. We can also start engaging in patient advocacy and policy-shaping with the American Medical Association (AMA) Medical Student Section and professional organizations related to our specialty interest(s).

To avoid adding to confusion, statements by physicians should always be grounded in evidence. Dr. Fauci’s leadership is exemplary in this regard. He has worked alongside seven presidents, led the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) since 1984, and has become a well-known figure due to his role in guiding the nation with evidence-based research concerning the COVID-19 pandemic.9 Similarly, Dr. John Whyte, CMO for WebMD, has collaborated with the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to advocate for safe use of medication and to educate those with vaccine apprehension.10 Following these examples, we should strive to collaborate with public health leaders and other healthcare practitioners and to advance health, wellness, and social outcomes and, in this way, have a lasting impact as leaders in the community.

  1. Goldstein Strong Medicine: Doctors Who Signed the Declaration of Independence. Cunningham Group. Published July 7, 2008. Accessed February 2, 2021. https://www.cunninghamgroupins.com/strong-medicine-doctors-who-signed-the-declaration-of-independence/
  2. Patient Engagement with Physicians on Twitter Doubles During BusinessWire. Published December 17, 2020. Accessed February 2, 2021. https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20201217005306/en/Patient-Engagement-with-Physicians-on-Twitter- Doubles-During-Pandemic
  3. WHALEN THE DOCTOR AS A POLITICIAN. JAMA. 1899;XXXII(14):756–759. doi:10.1001/jama.1899.92450410016002d
  4. Stanley From Physician to Legislator: The Long History of Doctors in Politics. The Rotation. Published May 15, Accessed February 2, 2021. https://the-rotation.com/from-physician-to-legislator-the-long-history-of-doctors-in-politics/
  5. Carsen S, Xia The physician as leader. Mcgill J Med. 2006;9(1):1-2.
  6. Doctors in Politics Launches Ambitious Effort to Send 50 Physicians to Congress In 2022. BusinessWire. Published May 27, 2020. Accessed February 2, 2021. https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20200527005230/en/Doctors-in-Politics-Launches-Ambitious-Effort-to- Send-50-Physicians-to-Congress-In-2022
  7. Doctors in Accessed February 2, 2021. https://doctorsinpolitics.org/whoweare
  8. Gstalter Rand Paul says COVID-19 survivors should “throw away their masks, go to restaurants, live again.” TheHill. Published November 13, 2020. Accessed February 2, 2021. https://thehill.com/homenews/senate/525819-rand-paul-says-covid-19-survivors-should-throw-away-their-masks-go-to
  9. Anthony Fauci, M.D. | NIH: National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases. Published January 20, 2021. Accessed February 2, 2021. https://www.niaid.nih.gov/about/anthony-s-fauci-md-bio
  10. Parks Physicians in government: The FDA and public health. American Medical Association. Published June 29, 2016. Accessed February 2, 2021. https://www.ama-assn.org/residents-students/transition-practice/physicians-government-fda-and-public-health
Categories
Clinical General Healthcare Cost Healthcare Costs Healthcare Disparities Innovation Patient-Centered Care Primary Care Quality Improvement

Let Me Be Brief: Medicaid Expansion

A series of briefs by the Texas Medical Students

By: Ammie Rupani and Alwyn Mathew

In 2019, 18% of Texans had no form of health insurance.1 650,000 Texans have lost their health insurance due to unemployment during the pandemic. The rate of uninsured Texans is staggering and has only been worsened by the pandemic. During this critical time, we must talk about Medicaid Expansion and the potential solutions for millions of people with no health insurance. As a medical student, I have seen patients defer life-saving medications such as insulin in order to afford rent or groceries. Consequently, these choices have brought such people to the Emergency Room in diabetic ketoacidosis, which could have been easily avoided with regular insulin treatments. Stories like this are far too common in Texas, and it is important to recognize such outcomes are easily preventable with improved access to health insurance coverage. How can we as students learn to treat people, when the system we are bound to  practice in is perpetuating their very diseases?

Retrieved from Texas Comptroller

Medicaid is a health insurance program managed through the Federal Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS). Medicaid is currently jointly funded by the Federal and State governments with the Federal government matching each dollar the State spends. Texas Medicaid is primarily a fee-for-service model that has poor reimbursement rates and high administrative burden that discourages physicians from accepting Medicaid in their practice. Currently, Texas Medicaid coverage is only offered to children, pregnant women, seniors, and people with severe disabilities, who also fall below a certain income threshold. For example, a single mother making minimum wage at her  full-time job is not eligible for Medicaid because she earns too much. However, she does not qualify for Federal subsidies covering some of the insurance cost because she does not earn enough. The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act of 2010 would help address this woman’s dilemma since Medicaid Expansion would cover all individuals with incomes up to 138 percent of the Federal Poverty Level, amounting to $16,643 for individuals and $33,948 for a family of four. Medicaid Expansion would provide a health insurance option to an estimated 2.2 million uninsured low-wage Texas adults.2

Although the original arguments against Medicaid Expansion in Texas focused on States’ rights and limiting Federal dependence on funding, the primary opposition to this program was the Federal mandate. In 2012, the US Supreme Court ruled that the Federal government could not mandate the Expansion of Medicaid in any State, leading to Texas and several States opting out of the program. Realizing the benefits and improvement in health outcomes, several States have since adopted the Expansion program offered through CMS, including Arkansas (2014) and Louisiana (2016). Currently, Texas spends nearly $40 billion (State and Federal funds) for the Medicaid program, with a 60-40% distribution between the Federal and State Government respectively.3 Expansion would be fiscally sound for Texas as it will reduce the strain on our State budget and draw in more Federal resources. Looking past the dollar amount, it is crucial that medical students and other healthcare professionals recognize the benefits of improved access and early medical intervention that can be achieved through Medicaid Expansion.3

TMA’s Legislative Recommendations4
  • Develop a meaningful, statewide health care coverage initiative using federal dollars to:
    • Extend meaningful coverage to low-income uninsured working-age adults, and
    • Establish a state-administered reinsurance program to reduce premiums for people enrolled in marketplace
  • Provide 12-months’ comprehensive coverage for women who lose Medicaid 60 days
  • Establish 12-months’ continuous coverage for children enrolled in Medicaid, the same benefit given to children enrolled in the Children’s Health Insurance Program.
  1. Accounts TCof P. Uninsured Texans. Retrieved from- https://comptroller.texas.gov/economy/fiscal-notes/2020/oct/uninsured.php
  2. How Many Uninsured Adults Could Be Reached If All States Expanded Medicaid? – Tables. KFF. https://kff.org/report-section/how-many-uninsured-adults-could-be-reached-if-all-states-expanded-medic aid-tables/. Published June 25, 2020.
  3. Federal and State share of Medicaid Spending, 2019, Kaiser Family Foundation- retrieved from – https://kff.org/medicaid/state-indicator/federalstate-share-of-spending/?dataView=1&currentTimeframe=0 &sortModel=%7B%22colId%22:%22State%22,%22sort%22:%22desc%22%7D
  4. Provide Meaningful Health Care Coverage for Uninsured Texans. Texmed. https://texmed.org/Template.aspx?id=55300.
  5. Status of state medicaid expansion decisions: Interactive Map, 2021. Retrieved from- https://kff.org/medicaid/issue-brief/status-of-state-medicaid-expansion-decisions-interactive-map/
Categories
disability Emotion Lifestyle Patient-Centered Care Psychology

Nodding Along

My grandmother was a strong and compassionate Egyptian woman, a mother of three, and a pathologist. On a glass slide, exactly like the ones she used daily, cells from her colon biopsy were identified as undifferentiated, and within days she was diagnosed with Stage IV Colon Cancer.

Although I am learning how to care for people in sickness and health, someday, the chest compressions will be applied to my chest. Disease knows no discrimination, and death unites us all. Thousands of cancer diagnoses and precise and growing knowledge of cancer cell types did nothing to protect my grandmother from that which she knew so much about.

In Egypt, cancer is called ’the bad disease’, and bad it is. Over the next couple months, we watched as the bad disease took our beloved grandmother away from us. During that time, my family members, and my grandmother, had to make a series of challenging decisions that they were very obviously not prepared to make.

Medical advancements, although the main reason we are living longer lives, have caused the complexity and variety of end-of-life decisions to be ever increasing. Uneasy about the series of decisions that my family had to make and handicapped by my ignorance, I found myself reading Being Mortal by Atul Gawande. Atul Gawande led me through a vulnerable and imperfect but inspiring conversation about death and dying, exposing our medical system’s inability to understand health beyond the one-dimensional, and presumptuously noble, endeavor to prolong life at any cost.

While reading Being Mortal, I found myself enthusiastically nodding along, agreeing with the theme of the book: we need to change everything about our simple but destructive approach to aging and our increasing elderly population. Our singular approach to prolonging life simplifies complex social and medical decisions. It seems the attitude now is that longer life is all that matters. Ensuring nutrition and shelter is our only standard for a viable living environment for the elderly. We are failing our parents and grandparents.

Atul Gawande’s presentation of ideas changed how I perceive aging and our healthcare decisions at the end of life. I became a strong advocate of having conversations about the inevitability of our death and the choices we want to be made during our end-of-life care. I was convinced that society and healthcare should ensure that the elderly remain the authors of their own stories for as long as they are willing, and actively empower them to do so. Nutrition, shelter, and minimizing fall risk are minimums of care, not acceptable standards.

The Literature in Medicine Student Interest Group at my school decided to read Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal, and I could not be more excited. In the middle of our meeting discussing the book, as I was passionately sharing my ideas, it occurred to me that although I was full of strong opinions, I had done absolutely nothing to be a part of the solution. My grandfather had come to live with us after his wife of 55 years, my grandmother, passed away from colon cancer, and my only roles/concerns in his care have been to ensure food, sleep, and meds. My strong opinions had not inspired my actions.

Nodding along to Atul Gawande’s criticisms of our medical system is easy, but having an honest conversation with my grandfather about his priorities and end-of-life care preferences as he reaches 90 years of age is not so easy. How might I empower my grandfather to continue to be the author of his story? Believing that healthcare is a right and not a privilege is easy, but carrying out the responsibility that this belief invokes is not so easy. How might I work to help provide all my neighbors with equal access to high-quality care? Practicing the invaluable intervention of presence is not easy, and working day after day to hone my abilities at the art of empathy is not easy. How might I overcome my doubts, fears, and insecurities, and avoid being frozen into lack of compassion?

Too often my strong opinions do not inform my actions. Too often my hate for dysfunctional and unjust systems overshadows my love for the people in the systems. I call myself to love my neighbors more than hate the systems, for love is actionable and hate is stifling and tiresome. Let love fuel the tank, for compassion-based activism is the only kind that goes the distance.

Photo Credit: Dan Strange

Categories
Clinical Lifestyle Patient-Centered Care

Running Low and No Longer Running

I recently completed a rotation in endocrinology, and I learned valuable lessons about diabetes management in both the inpatient and outpatient setting. Today, I wanted to share a clinical pearl generally not discussed in lectures: Diabetic patients often gain weight because of the fear of hypoglycemia.

That’s right. The fear of hypoglycemia drives patients to eat a little more at meals. Let’s backtrack. Patients who have persistently elevated sugars are often started on insulin in addition to oral agents. Depending on their insulin regimen, patients may not eat enough after an insulin dose to prevent a drop in blood sugar. Patients who experience a hypoglycemic event try their best to prevent it from occurring again. This is understandable—fainting is scary and should not be taken lightly (pun intended).

The problem is that patients counteract this fear of hypoglycemia by either eating more after an insulin injection, or by exercising less. This impedes diabetes management. In addition to advising our diabetic patients to monitor their carbohydrate intake, we urge them to start some form of physical activity. Physical activity enhances the body’s insulin sensitivity—it gets to the core of the problem (insulin resistance) and improves overall cardiovascular health as well. But how can we encourage these lifestyle modifications if our patients are getting lightheaded after injections?

The answer: carbohydrate counting and education.

Not the answer: increasing insulin.

My attending explained that “increasing insulin” is actually what happens in some cases. For example, let’s say a patient named Sara comes in for her follow-up appointment and unknown to us, has “fear of hypoglycemia.” Sara brings her glucose meter, and the sugars are poorly controlled. Part of the reason for this poor control is secondary to a) eating more after an injection to prevent fainting and b) decreased physical activity to prevent fainting. Now, if we just treat her numbers, we would increase her insulin.

The lesson here is that one can’t just treat the number in medicine. Talking to the patient, even for a few minutes, will provide the story. Increasing the insulin perpetuates a viscous cycle, and breaking the cycle comes from better regimen management. Validating patient concerns about hypoglycemia and educating them on injecting based on carbohydrate intake is invaluable.

Photo Credit: Melissa Johnson

Categories
Empathy

Properly Unprepared

It was late afternoon, and the current nursing shift would be relieved in less than ninety minutes. The feeling of impending Friday freedom was palpable on the floor of the intensive care unit. I was on my way to meet with my last patient of the week, who had been brought in for an unintentional drug overdose. My goal was to determine whether the overdose was truly accidental, and if she was a candidate for compulsory psychiatric hospitalization. I passed by a large bank of computers without stopping, and knocked on the patient’s door. When I walked in that room, all I knew was the patient’s name, her age, and the reason for her hospitalization. Other than those preliminary facts, she was a complete mystery to me. I spent fifty minutes with the patient, and had a relatively pleasant conversation. When I walked out of her room, I opened her medical chart for the first time.

Unfortunately, that day, the story that I received from the patient and the information that I got from her chart told two different stories. Numerous providers had noted that she was irresponsible with medications, and I got the sense from the chart that she only sought medical care to gain access to controlled substances. Now that I had established a good relationship with my patient, I would have to re-interview her in an attempt to reconcile the information I had seen in her chart with the picture she had painted for me in the moments prior. My Friday freedom would just have to wait.

I would not be surprised to find out that the ICU staff was laughing at me that day. After all, I ended up spending more than two hours with this patient when I could have conducted only one brief interview. Even though the majority of my first hour with the patient was pure confabulation, I viewed it as a valuable component of my assessment. That first hour represented my sole opportunity to get to know my patient without any bias. Had I looked at her chart before walking into the room, I unquestionably would have written her off as an irresponsible, drug-seeking troublemaker. I would have asked her pointed, perhaps accusatory questions about her behaviors, and worse, I would have known exactly when she was lying to me, further eroding any respect I may have had for this patient.

Electronic medical record systems help to facilitate the sequestration of large amounts of information about our patients with minimal effort, and it’s largely considered taboo to meet with patients without first researching their medical record.  The information physicians can learn from the medical record can be undoubtedly beneficial in many situations, but extensive chart reviews can also lure us into a false sense of security, allowing us to preconceive an identity for our patients before ever having met them.

Had I read my patient’s chart that afternoon, I am certain that I would have made judgments about her that would have influenced my interview. Instead, I learned about my patient by allowing her to tell her own story. I thought about the information she shared with me, and, perhaps more importantly, what she failed to tell me. Because the patient never discussed her well-documented mishandling and possible dependence on prescription medications, I felt confident in making an assessment that this patient had relatively poor insight about her problems.

Featured image:
hGraph: patient + clinician looking together by Juhan Sonin

Categories
General Lifestyle

Goals between 1st and 2nd Year

When we were young, summer days were our most free. Our neighborhoods suddenly became hives of activity; kids playing baseball in the streets, video game sessions lasting all day, trips to the pool, family vacations, and most importantly, no school. Those days of summer seemed too short, and during the long winter months when school seemed to stretch on forever, I often sat and daydreamed of the days when I could wear shorts and a t-shirt. For many, summer vacations can last through college, with time spent abroad or back home enjoying the comforts of their childhood. Medical school, however, changes the game.

For those who come straight to medical school from their undergraduate institutions, the last true summer might be the one between the first and second year of medical school. In fact, most schools give students several weeks off to decompress after the long struggle of first year. Therefore, it’s worth asking: what do we do with this time? With that question in mind, I went out and queried fellow students from all years, as well as several physicians in practice and in academia, in order to collect ideas. Not surprisingly, there were a huge variety of answers, but they divided into two basic camps. About half said to do something, anything, to prepare ourselves for our future careers, and the other half said to enjoy the last vestiges of our youth.

The arguments are valid on both sides of this debate. Amongst those who said to do something “productive,” about 75% said to, more specifically, gather experience in an area of interest. Whether through shadowing or more formal experiences such as research opportunities, the idea is to gain whatever knowledge and experience you can to make choosing a specialty easier. Additionally, these measured voices said, you will gain a little extra something on your CV that might impress residency programs. For instance, a friend who had an interest in mental health and addiction medicine spent the summer doing research in a major university setting. He applied months in advance and said the experience changed his life. On the other hand, the remaining 25% said to spend time studying for the Boards. “They’ll creep up on you quickly, so best to start early,” one professor told me. He suggested creating a plan of action for the summer, including high yield topics to review each week.

The “do nothing” crowd, or those on the other side of the argument, also had their say. Many advocated that this last summer is the perfect chance to do a few things that simply won’t be possible in the years ahead. “For those who enjoy traveling, take the chance to get away,” they repeated again and again.  A student who recently matched into PM&R told me that he went to Europe for 4 weeks, rode the train, met lots of great people, and “stayed as far away from studying as [he] could.” He added that this gave him the chance to recharge his batteries before tackling the challenges of second year and beyond. While traveling Europe might not be possible for all of us, finding ways to decompress should be. A family medicine physician who has spent 20 years in practice told me that he went home, saw family, and spent lots of time fishing.

In the end, there is no clear path. Just like with everything else, how to spend that last summer is a very individual choice. My own experience involved taking time off to rest and reflect, and also spending a month locked in a room with some fellow students crafting a business plan for a student-run free clinic, which, after a lot of work and fundraising, opened the next year. I also completed a 2 week internship in rural medicine. I wouldn’t change anything about the summer; both of those work experiences motivated me in different ways regarding the type of physician I want to become, while taking time to rest rejuvenated me for the trials ahead. No matter what you choose, remember to do what makes the most sense for you. If you need the rest, take the chance to get it. If you want to work on something you feel passionate about, do that. While it may seem like another multiple-choice question, in the end, there is no wrong answer.

Featured image:
travelling by Elvira S. Uzábal – elbeewa

Categories
General Lifestyle

Goals for the Summer

The beginning of December is when it begins. Around winter finals, people already start to ask – What will you do over the summer?

“Should I apply to a summer fellowship?”

It’s reasonable that we want to make the most of the summer. Considering the prevalence of ordered, dutiful personalities in medical school[1], it’s no surprise that this precious time – the last summer vacation of our lives (at least, in the US school system) – is wrought with indecision.

“Are you doing research over the summer?”

We go to second-years and faculty to ask for advice. We post on Facebook or other social media outlets. We ask career counselors. They all say to take things easy. Second year is hard, so do something that is important to you. Go travel. Spend time with family. They say things like, you only have to do research if you want to go into a competitive specialty. We search Google and find resources about summer fellowships and research opportunities.[1]

“What should I do over the summer?”

I am reminded of the memoir When Breath Becomes Air, written by the neurosurgeon-in-training Paul Kalanithi. In the book, Kalanithi writes about a similar situation during his undergraduate sophomore summer. He had to choose what to do with his summer, because he had been accepted both “as an intern at the highly scientific Yerkes Primate Research Center, in Atlanta, and as a prep chef at Sierra Camp, a family vacation spot for Stanford alumni on the pristine shores of Fallen Leaf Lake [… which] promised, simply, the best summer of your life. […] In other words, I could either study meaning or I could experience it.”[1] Ultimately, he chose the job as the prep chef. And despite the outrage of his biology mentor over the lost research opportunity, Kalanithi still became a neurosurgeon.  He said his experience at the camp was meaningful, invigorating, and had lasting effects on his perspective when he returned to school. It’s a little different in medical school, but the principle is the same.

“When you look back on the summer, how will you feel?”

I struggled to decide what to do with my summer. I felt like there were a lot of options, but was unsure of what to pursue – I could conduct research on campus, be a medical volunteer at free clinics, work at a global health mission, spend time with family, travel with friends … there were too many options. I felt like all of the options were possible as long as I submitted an application on time. The most difficult part was that at my school, summer lasts only one and a half months.  Ultimately, the time constraints limited me to only one or two activities, and I wanted to choose an activity that would be “the best summer of my life.”

I had started the application for a summer research fellowship, submitted it, and was waiting to hear back. Meanwhile, I heard friends talking about how they were planning to go on trips in-state and

abroad, get married, or just spend time at home. Other friends were awarded fellowships at other academic institutions. I wondered how valuable it would be for me to spend another summer putting in forty or more hours of research a week when I had spent a number of undergraduate summers doing that before. In fact, I realized, my last real break was the summer between high school and undergrad.

In my final year of undergraduate studies, a retiring professor told the class that he was most excited about the opportunity for extended break from academia. He expressed regret that he had not taken more breaks throughout his career. My friend and I had discussed this together; we wondered whether a break from school or work could really be as meaningful as he said. I’m beginning to realize what he meant now, as my classmates and I fight through burnout during our first year in medical school. The importance of self-care cannot be overlooked.

I weighed the pros and cons of each option. When it came down to it, my ideal break consisted of: (1) reconnecting with family and friends, (2) spending time with literature – both reading and writing, and (3) exploring future career options. While important, career-building was not the most important summer activity because I still have the rest of my training and the rest of my life to work on it. For me, time with familiar people and literature are sources of enduring happiness. At the end of the day, I take comfort in cultivating these life experiences. I worked hard to create an opportunity that would incorporate all three of these items. I’m planning to spend the summer at home, relaxing and working on a small project I managed to set up with a mentor nearby.

For those coming up with their own summer goals, I suggest considering the following points:

  1. What are the pros and cons of the options you have considered so far?
  2. How much time can you allot to each of your options?
  3. Is there something you would regret missing out on?
  4. What will rejuvenate you for the upcoming year?
  5. If you could do anything, how would you spend an ideal summer?

References:

  1. There was an actual study published on this. Lievens, et. al. (2002). Medical Education, 36, 1050–1056.
  2. Interested readers may want to peruse the following pages:  “Summer Opportunities for 1st-Year Students” from Indiana University and “Summer Opportunities for Medical Students” from the Medical University of South Carolina.
  3. Kalanithi, Paul. (2016). When Breath Becomes Air. Random House, New York, NY. 31-32.

Featured image:
San Francisco Peaks from Kendrick Mountain Fire Lookout Tower by Al_HikesAZ