One Piece of Advice I’d Give My Younger Self Before Entering Healthcare

If I could grab a cup of coffee with my younger self—the eager, wide-eyed student about to step into the world of medicine—I’d probably pause for a second, look them straight in the eyes, and say:

"You are not a machine. Don’t try to become one."

Because somewhere between cadaver labs and 28-hour shifts, between white coats and endless SOAP notes, medicine teaches us to sacrifice self for service. And while the intention is noble, the execution often borders on self-destruction.

This is the letter, the advice, the reflection I wish I had received before walking into the most rewarding yet relentlessly demanding field in the world.

You’re Enough Even When You Don’t Know Everything
One of the biggest lies I believed early on was that I had to know it all. That to be respected in medicine, I couldn’t show doubt. I had to be perfect, confident, and unshakable—especially in front of patients, attendings, and colleagues.

The truth? No one knows everything.

The best clinicians aren’t the ones who remember every drug interaction; they’re the ones who know when to pause, ask, verify, or admit uncertainty. Confidence isn’t knowing everything—it’s knowing that you’ll do whatever it takes to find the right answer.

Don’t Confuse Achievement with Identity
Getting into med school becomes your whole identity. Then matching. Then being the best intern. Then publishing. Then leading. Then specializing.

The checklist never ends.

But who are you without the scores? Without the white coat?

The earlier you learn to separate your worth from your resume, the more you’ll preserve your sanity—and your humanity. You are not just a sum of your achievements. You’re a human, who happens to be in medicine.

Rest Is Not Laziness. It’s a Skill.
If burnout is a fire, medical training is the gasoline.

Our system celebrates exhaustion. If you’re too available, too rested, or not in a constant state of hustle, people assume you're coasting.

Here's what I wish I knew sooner: rest is productive.

Recovery days are not wasted days. Taking time off is a discipline. Learning to set boundaries is not selfish—it's survival.

You can’t pour from an empty cup. And no patient wants care from a doctor running on fumes.

Your Compassion Is a Gift. Guard It.
When you first enter the hospital, everything feels personal.

You ache with the family when a code fails. You swell with pride when a NICU baby opens its eyes. You cry in the bathroom after breaking bad news.

But over time, many lose that spark. They protect themselves with cynicism, cold efficiency, and emotional numbing. It's a defense mechanism. And it works. For a while.

But I’d tell my younger self: You can be kind and tough. You don’t need to choose.

Empathy is your superpower. Guard it with boundaries, not with walls.

Comparison Is the Thief of Joy (and Sanity)
In medicine, there's always someone faster, smarter, more published, more liked, more eloquent. The comparison game never ends—and it can crush your spirit if you let it.

Remember: you are not behind.

The detour, the gap year, the specialty switch, the repeated exam—these don’t define you. If anything, they strengthen you. Focus on your lane. Trust your timing.

Learn the Art of Saying “No” Early
Want to burn out fast? Say yes to everything.

Extra shifts, unpaid research, weekend coverage, committee work, peer mentoring, exam tutoring—all at once.

Saying “no” doesn’t mean you're ungrateful. It means you're wise enough to know your capacity.

And remember: Every “yes” is a “no” to something else—often your sleep, your health, or your personal life.

Find One Friend Who Gets It
You don’t need a dozen med school besties. But you need one person who will get it when you text:
“Patient coded. I’m not okay.”
Or “Slept 2 hours, cried 3. Help.”

This friendship may save your mental health more than any wellness seminar ever will.

Medicine can be isolating, but you're not alone. Find your people and keep them close.

Grades Will Fade. Character Doesn’t.
Ten years from now, no one will care what you got in physiology. Or whether you answered question 19 correctly in your OSCE.

What they will remember is how you treated the nurse during a 3 a.m. trauma. How you spoke to the family. Whether your presence made patients feel safe.

Don’t trade kindness for rank. Don’t compromise your values for validation.

Your Personal Life Deserves to Exist
Medicine is not your whole life. And it shouldn’t be.

Go to the wedding. Take that trip. Date. Dance. Make mistakes. Sleep in. Have hobbies.

Your future patients will benefit from a doctor who’s actually lived—who understands joy, heartbreak, loss, celebration—not just through a clinical lens, but a human one.

Being good at medicine shouldn’t mean being absent from your own life.

Medicine Is a Marathon, Not a Sprint
There will be moments when you want to quit.

When you question everything. When you feel imposter syndrome, grief, sleep deprivation, and regret—all at once.

This is normal.

Take breaks when you need. Breathe deeply. Ask for help. But don’t give up too early. The beauty of this field doesn’t always show itself at first. Sometimes it takes years. But when it does, it’s breathtaking.

The Advice, Summarized:

• You’re enough even when you’re unsure.
  
  
• Rest is not weakness.
  
  
• Guard your empathy.
  
  
• Define success for yourself—not by prestige, but by peace.
  
  
• Learn to say no.
  
  
• Find real friends.
  
  
• Live a full life.
  
  
• Be human first, doctor second.
  

And above all: Don’t become who the system trains you to be. Become the doctor your younger self would be proud of.