At the height of my panic attacks and the depths of my self-doubt — an unanticipated effect of my first board exams and the start of clinical rotations — I was in need of a way to cope. I found solace in journaling (plus meditation and caffeine reductions). I set aside time deep in the night as, frankly, I was lucky to make it on time to the hospital in the morning. My prompt was simple, repeating daily: list five things I was grateful for.
Pouring over my journals, one theme permeated my entries : people. My days were better because of the people in them.
Below are my reflections on how those I met throughout medical school shaped my experience.
To peers
Five years ago, out of nearly 200 classmates, I knew none of you. Yet it’s impossible to imagine medical school without you. Pre-clinical years marked by group stress before anatomy exams, late-night Anki sessions and celebrating each milestone made the journey light.
Though the bonds forged in microbiology and pathology were tested during our independent clinical pathways, they gave way to deeper commitments. On the wards, many of you selflessly shared resources, kept spirits high on long call nights and covered for me when running late in the morning, all for our shared fraternity.
Outside the hospital, shared meals and nights to set aside our student roles kept me sane. And whenever the journey to physician-hood felt Sisyphean, your camaraderie kept me going. Thank you.
To residents
Amid juggling your own education, clinical obligations and personal lives, it’s a miracle you have time for students. Your sacrifices — staying late to help me suture, teaching EKGs instead of studying for boards, covering my admits so I could attend a wedding — live with me.
Many of you took a personal stake in my journey, pulling me into cases and helping polish patient presentations before discussing the cases with attending physicians. To those who checked in after tough cases, made sure I glimpsed daylight on winter days or ensured I ate, thank you for caring for me.
And though it may seem strange, thank you for showing up on your harder days and reminding me physicians are people too. You’ve shaped how I hope to teach the next generation.
To staff
Thank you for taking a naive, yet eager student under your wing. From sharing bathroom codes to patiently teaching me to place IVs, discreetly correcting my operating room attire to hinting at treatment changes, each act made me feel welcomed amidst head-spinning rotations.
Every gesture reinforced I was part of the team. Your trust in me as the primary provider and grace as I settled into the role encouraged me to step into my responsibilities. Meanwhile, jokes on surgical mornings and hugs after tough nights in the emergency department eased the load.
Thank you for shepherding me through.
To patients
Thank you for being great teachers. We often forget the risks patients take in our imperfect medical education system predicated on witnessing human experiences no mannequin can capture. Your compassion in sharing the “best practices” from other providers (e.g., tricks for better ultrasound windows), patience as I stumbled through interviews and willingness to bring me into your life, whether by sharing soup recipes or regaling Everest stories, brightened my days.
Each interaction expanded my horizons, challenged assumptions and helped me become a better physician.
To family and friends
Between the sporadic schedule and the hard-to-share stories, this journey can feel isolating. Yet in these moments, I learned how deep my relationships are.
Thank you for acting as if my rants about hospital idiosyncrasies made sense, and for being there, even when you couldn’t relate. Thank you for cheering from the stands, sending love before exams and building me up. Thank you for keeping my poorly-managed inbox full of jokes, platters of unrequested, but needed, food and silent company on long nights.
No words can ever encapsulate my gratitude.
To future students
To any student or soul who may stumble upon this, I, in my hubris, share a few words, dare I say, of wisdom garnered from those around me.
Learn the art of caring. Asthma exacerbation textbooks cite oxygen, inhalers and steroids. Yet, they miss the need to provide two blankets (one is never enough). Sit when speaking and remain so until all questions are covered and ensure patients speak freely about concerns, even if out of scope.
Ask for help. Charlie Mackesy put it best in “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse,” that the bravest thing we do is lean on others. This is our field’s foundation. Medicine is hard, but slightly easier together.
Be kind. What is another set of stitches to us may be a patient’s worst day. No situation is made better through cruelty or worsened through kindness.
Stay curious. Ask “silly” questions. Step up for procedures. Learn beyond medicine. Growth demands boldness.
Above all else, do not heed every piece of advice. Some will prove irrelevant, some serve you briefly and some rare nuggets may change you. Learn to nod, discard what doesn’t fit and carve your path.
I should stop here. To everyone along the journey, thank you for saving me, shaping me and inspiring me.
Sincerely (and for the first time),
Ribhav Gupta, M.D.
Ribhav Gupta is a recent graduate of the University of Minnesota Medical School and an incoming emergency medicine resident at Stanford Health Care with an additional passion for global health policy.