"What Do You Want to Specialize In?” Said Every Aunt Since Day 1 of Med School

Because Apparently, Becoming a Doctor Isn’t Enough Until You Pick a Specialty—Preferably One They Can Brag About at Weddings
There are some things in life that are inevitable: gravity, taxes, and the moment every relative—especially that one inquisitive aunt—leans in during a family gathering, squints with anticipation, and delivers the question that has haunted medical students since orientation week:

“So… what do you want to specialize in?”

It doesn’t matter if you’re still figuring out where the liver sits. Or that you’ve just survived your first anatomy exam and haven’t fully emotionally recovered from dissecting a cadaver. To them, the final destination—your future specialty—matters more than the educational journey. And unless you say something like “cardiothoracic surgery” or “neurosurgeon,” your entire medical journey apparently remains incomplete.

Let’s break down why this question is such a recurring theme for medical students, what it reveals about family and social expectations, and how to navigate these interrogations without damaging your sanity or family ties.

The Question Arrives Early—Way Too Early

The moment you get your acceptance letter, before you’ve even figured out how to properly drape a stethoscope around your neck, the interrogations begin.

“Oh, you got into medical school? That’s amazing! So, what kind of doctor are you going to be? Neurosurgeon?”

Closely followed by:

“You know, dermatology is great. No emergencies, clean work, and excellent income.”

You haven’t even cracked open your anatomy textbook, and somehow, your career path should already be crystal clear—and preferably match a socially-approved checklist.

Why This Question Feels So Heavily Loaded

This question is never just a question. It’s a subtle cocktail of expectations.

Embedded within it are assumptions about prestige, income, reputation, social status, and the kind of bragging rights your specialty provides at weddings and community events.

In their mind, being a doctor isn’t enough. You must be the right kind of doctor—one they can proudly mention during tea with neighbors or while showing off at a family function. And if you don't pick something that sounds heroic or complex enough, it's almost seen as a letdown.

The Unofficial Specialties Hierarchy (According to Aunties Everywhere)

Every family, especially in certain cultures, seems to have its own mental ranking of medical specialties. It usually looks something like this:

Tier 1 (Worthy of Bragging Rights):
Neurosurgery
Cardiology
Cardiothoracic Surgery
Plastic Surgery (especially if it involves celebrities or cosmetic fame)

Tier 2 (Still Respectable):
Internal Medicine
Pediatrics (bonus points for loving kids)
Radiology (if they've at least heard of it)
Dermatology (thanks to the “no night shifts” stereotype)

Tier 3 (Polite Smile, Awkward Silence):
Psychiatry
Family Medicine
Pathology
Public Health

Tier 4 (Mild Concern, Follow-Up Questions Guaranteed):
Any field they don’t understand
Research
Preventive Medicine
Medical Education
“Just a GP?”

Say anything from Tier 3 or Tier 4, and the look you’ll get is somewhere between mild disappointment and unspoken pity.

The Never-Ending Annual Inquisition

This question doesn’t appear just once. Oh no. It follows you through every family milestone like a well-meaning but persistent shadow.

Year 1: “So what are you specializing in?”
Year 2: “Still deciding?”
Year 3: “Time is ticking, you know…”
Final year: “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

It becomes a seasonal tradition, like Christmas decorations or birthday cakes. Only instead of something joyful, it's an annual reminder of how you're still a "work in progress" in their eyes.

When You Finally Answer—And It’s Not What They Wanted

Eventually, you do give an answer. But unless it matches their fantasy, brace yourself.

Say “psychiatry,” and you’ll get a puzzled look:
“But you seem so mentally stable?”

Say “general practice,” and they’ll frown slightly:
“So you’re just writing prescriptions?”

Say “pediatrics,” and they might sigh:
“All those crying babies... isn’t that hard on the soul?”

Say “orthopedics,” and they’ll glance at your arms:
“Do you think you can lift those bones?”

It's like there’s a script they want you to follow. And the only acceptable answers are the ones they’ve already mentally rehearsed to show off at family events.

The Comparison Game Gets Brutal

If you’re the only medical student in the family, congratulations—you’re now the measuring stick for every doctor they’ve ever heard of.

“You know Sharma Uncle’s son? He’s doing neurology. In London.”
“Why not dermatology? It’s very popular in Canada now.”
“My yoga teacher’s niece is doing IVF—great money!”

Even if you walked in feeling confident, these unsolicited “career suggestions” are designed to erode that confidence bit by bit. You’ll find yourself questioning everything—including why you entered medicine at all.

The Reality Most Don’t Understand: We Don’t Know Yet

Here’s the truth that’s rarely discussed outside medical circles:
Most students don’t have a clue what they want to specialize in. And that’s completely okay.

Real decisions come from:

• Rotations that ignite a spark
  
  
• Mentors who inspire us
  
  
• Experiences with patients
  
  
• Nights filled with questioning everything
  
  
• Personal alignment with lifestyle, passion, and emotional bandwidth

It’s not like picking your major in college. It’s closer to navigating a maze in the dark. You bump into walls, discover doors you didn’t know existed, and occasionally sit on the floor wondering why you even entered.

Why This Pressure Isn’t Harmless

What seems like an innocent question can actually be harmful over time.

• It can cause students to make rushed, uninformed decisions
  
  
• It can stir feelings of anxiety and inadequacy
  
  
• It may lead to burnout or regret if you end up in the wrong field
  
  
• It reinforces the toxic idea that a doctor’s worth is defined by their specialty
  
  
• It increases imposter syndrome when peers seem more certain about their future than you

Worse, some students might choose a specialty not out of love or calling—but out of fear of disappointing family expectations. That’s a heavy price to pay for applause that might not even last.

How to Reply Without Losing Your Cool

Here are a few witty, respectful (and sanity-saving) responses you can try the next time the dreaded question shows up at a family dinner:

• “I’m still rotating—every department is like a new relationship.”
  
  
• “I’ll go with whichever one lets me sleep and still pay rent.”
  
  
• “I’m doing a deep dive into which specialty will stress you out the least.”
  
  
• “That depends… how much are you planning to invest in my education?”
  
  
• “I’m thinking about specializing in not answering that question again.”

Or the all-time favorite:
“I’m leaning toward specializing in being happy.”

When You Finally Choose—Expect a New Set of Opinions

Even when you do settle on a specialty, don’t expect the noise to stop.

Choose emergency medicine, and they’ll say:
“Such odd hours. How will you raise a family?”

Pick OB-GYN, and you’ll hear:
“All those deliveries. Sounds exhausting.”

Go into psychiatry?
“Good, good. Actually, your uncle needs help. Can you have a look?”

Eventually, it clicks. You're not here to live out their dreams. You're here to chase what makes sense for your skills, your heart, and your well-being. The day you stop seeking validation is the day you start finding true direction.

Final Word: You Don’t Owe Anyone a Specialty

You’re not behind. You’re not indecisive. You’re simply navigating one of the most complicated and consequential decisions of your life.

So the next time someone asks,
“What do you want to specialize in?”

Take a deep breath. Smile. And maybe just say:
“I’m currently specializing in surviving med school.”

Because before you pick a specialty, before you’re someone’s surgeon or consultant or attending—remember:
You’re allowed to be human first.