Published by
Stanford Medicine

Category

Medical Education

Medical Education, Medical Schools, Stanford News

Medical students start “transformational” journey

Medical students start "transformational" journey

With the help of Lars Osterberg MD, MPH, and Dr. Neil Gesundheit, MD. they give Brandon Turner  his official white coat at at the Stanford Medicine White Coat and Stethoscope Ceremony on Friday, August 22, 2014,at Stanford School of Medicine.  ( Norbert von der Groeben / Stanford School of Medicine )

The new school year has begun for students across the country, including Stanford’s 90 first-year medical students – who started class on Monday and spent last week at orientation activities anxious and excited for the  journey to finally begin.

To help the students prepare, faculty talked to them about the emotional and academic challenges of medical school and emphasized that it can be metamorphic and, not surprisingly, somewhat stressful. “They are seeing life and death,” said one faculty member at orientation, who added that medical school “is a transformational time the likes of which I don’t think you see in any other level of education.”

The week of preparation concluded with the traditional stethoscope ceremony, which I wrote about in an article published online today. The ceremony symbolizes the importance of the personal connection between doctor and patient, and during the event each student walks across the stage to accept their stethoscopes. As Laurie Weisberg, MD, president of the medical center alumni association, told the students:

The great thing about the stethoscope is you have to be close to your patient to use it. This is your chance to truly interact with the patient. You are listening to what the patient has to tell you.

In his address to the students, Dean Lloyd Minor, MD, told them the four-year, or longer, journey would change the way they see the world and that they “will learn some of life’s most valuable lessons from your patients.” He also highlighted some of the demographics of the new class:

Fifty-one percent of you are women; 15 percent of you are from communities underrepresented in medicine; 21 of you were born outside of the U.S., coming from China, Columbia, India, Vietnam, just to name a few. You come from a diverse and wide range of universities — 10 of you from Stanford, 13 from the Stanford of the East [Harvard]. Eighteen of you already have a master’s or a doctorate, and many of you have already published research, participated in varsity athletics, shined in the arts and contributed to your community.

Previously: Abraham Verghese urges Stanford grads to always remember the heritage and rituals of medicine, Top 10 reasons I’m glad to be in medical school and “Something old and something new” for Stanford medical students
Photo, of Brandon Turner receiving his official white coat at a ceremony last Friday, by Norbert von der Groeben

Medical Education, Medical Schools, SMS Unplugged

Buzzwords in medical school

Buzzwords in medical school

SMS (“Stanford Medical School”) Unplugged was recently launched as a forum for students to chronicle their experiences in medical school. The student-penned entries appear on Scope once a week; the entire blog series can be found in the SMS Unplugged category.

Learning in medical school often feels like learning a completely new language. There are numerous acronyms (OPQRST, CAGE, etc.) and molecules (IL-1, TGF-beta, etc.) and more. But most striking to me are two particularly ubiquitous buzzwords: “high-yield” and “protected time.”

I feel like I heard both these terms – and particularly the former – thrown around every single week of this past school year. “High-yield” has been used to refer to, as you might guess, the material that yields the highest amount of gain – i.e. for us students, it’s the material that’s going to show up on our tests. This term pervades not only conversations among classmates but also study materials. First Aid – one of the main Step 1 book resources – takes pains to highlight “high-yield” concepts, and Pathoma – another Step 1 resource – goes even further, identifying ideas that are not just “high-yield” but also “highEST-yield.”

This idea of focusing on “high-yield’ concepts bothered me at first and continues to bother me a little bit today, largely because my classmates and I often determine for ourselves what is “high-yield” and what is “low-yield,” dedicating our study time to the former and ignoring the latter. The worst part is that we may be ignoring information that may be “low-yield” in the context of exams but actually “high-yield” in the context of patient care. The flip side of this is that we only have a certain number of hours in the day; perhaps it makes sense for us to be judicious about what we focus our attention on?

Another phrase that has been widespread in medical school is the term “protected time.” I started hearing this during the very first week of medical school, when we had part of our afternoon off for “protected study time.” Later in the year, I attended a panel featuring five pediatricians. The question of work-life balance came up, and one of the doctors mentioned that she carved out “protected time” to be with her 2-year-old daughter every evening between 5 and 7 PM. This statement was met with general appreciation but also minor panic. There are so many aspects of our life that deserve “protected time” – family, friends, time for creativity, and more – and yet, again, there are only 24 hours in a day. Where does “protected time” start and end? And what does it include? And is it really reasonable to expect “protected time” when there are so many patient -care demands for physicians to navigate?

As I’m about to enter my second year of medical school, some of my questions remain unanswered. How can my classmates and I make sure to learn medicine well enough and thoroughly enough that we can both meet and exceed expectations in patient care? Is identifying “high-yield” material an ineffective, shortsighted approach? And how do we identify what falls under “protected time”? Here’s hoping I figure out this tentative balance during this upcoming year!

Hamsika Chandrasekar just finished her first year at Stanford’s medical school. She has an interest in medical education and pediatrics.

***

From August 11-25, Scope will be on a limited publishing schedule. During that time, you may also notice a delay in comment moderation. We’ll return to our regular schedule on August 25.)

In the News, Medical Education, Medical Schools, Stanford News

Rethinking the traditional four-year medical curriculum

Rethinking the traditional four-year medical curriculum

In an effort to meet the needs of medical students, physicians and patients, a number of universities are considering ways to shorten the traditional four-year medical curriculum without compromising quality of care. The New York Times reports that “a recent, unpublished survey of 120 medical schools, conducted by the New York University School of Medicine, found that 30 percent were considering or already planning to start three-year programs” and notes that the American Medical Association is among those advocating for such innovative approaches. Denise Grady writes:

More than a dozen medical schools already have programs to move students more quickly from the classroom to the clinic, but by shortening premedical studies rather than medical school. Among them are Albany Medical College, Northeast Ohio Medical University and the medical schools at Boston University, Drexel, George Washington, Howard, Jefferson, Meharry and Northwestern. Gifted high school seniors or early college students are guaranteed admission to medical school if they perform well during freshman year of college. Combined bachelors/M.D. programs have been around for half a century, but these students complete both degrees in six or seven years instead of the usual eight.

“I absolutely think it’s doable,” said Dr. Charles G. Prober, senior associate dean for medical education at Stanford School of Medicine, which is considering such a program. Well-designed programs to accelerate doctors’ training “don’t send them out prematurely, but send them out with adequate tools, recognizing that they will grow,” said Dr. Prober, who writes and speaks extensively on medical education reform. “Real learning begins when you are actually beginning to take care of patients, doing what you were trained to do.”

While research is scant, a few studies show promising results. Comparisons of graduates of three-year programs at the University of Calgary and McMaster University to graduates of four-year Canadian medical schools found “equivalent performance.” And a small study at Marshall University in the 1990s, which for almost a decade incorporated fourth-year requirements with the first year of residency in family practice, declared it a success for “carefully selected candidates.”

Indeed, educators make clear that not all students can handle the accelerated curriculum. Dr. Prober notes that with the explosion of medical information, students more than ever must learn to work smart, figuring out what they need to memorize and how to find out the rest. Part of the education process today is learning to collaborate and tap the expertise of others.

Previously: A closer look at using the “flipped classroom” model at the School of Medicine, Combining online learning and the Socratic method to reinvent medical school courses, Rethinking the “sage on stage” model in medical education and Stanford professors propose re-imagining medical education with “lecture-less” classes

Medical Education, Rural Health, Stanford News

Stanford internships provide Bay Area students with work experience, opportunity to discover passions

Stanford internships provide Bay Area students with work experience, opportunity to discover passions

14093-internyu_newsThis summer high school students from around the Bay Area are interning at labs and departments across Stanford. A recent Stanford Report story highlights the type of projects students are working on and how the internships provide them with valuable work experience and the opportunity to discover their passion. From the article:

Palo Alto High School student Catherine Yu [pictured to the right], for example, is interning at the Stanford Blood Center in the immunology and pathology lab. She described her task as gathering data to help her supervisor’s research project.

“Every intern is assigned to a supervisor who is working on an experiment, which will hopefully be turned into a paper submitted for a journal,” said Yu, who will be a senior in September. “My work consists of separating blood into T cells, monocytes, dendritic cells, and then culturing them together; it’s very neat.”

Yu said being the only high school student in her lab presents her with a series of challenges.

“It’s definitely a different dynamic where they expect you to learn a lot of information at a very fast pace,” Yu said. “I have to stay on my toes so I don’t fall behind.”

Previously: Internships expose local high-schoolers to STEM careers and academic life, Residential learning program offers undergrads a new approach to scientific inquiry, The “transformative experience” of working in a Stanford stem-cell lab and Stanford’s RISE program gives high-schoolers a scientific boost
Photo by L.A. Cicero

Health Disparities, Medical Education, Patient Care, SMS Unplugged

In medicine, showing empathy isn’t enough

In medicine, showing empathy isn't enough

SMS (“Stanford Medical School”) Unplugged was recently launched as a forum for students to chronicle their experiences in medical school. The student-penned entries appear on Scope once a week; the entire blog series can be found in the SMS Unplugged category.

SMS_image_072214As a medical student, it’s difficult to face a situation where everything possible is done for a patient, yet due to circumstances (seemingly) beyond our control, the risk of future harm remains uncomfortably certain. The majority of our medical school learning focuses on how to cure illness; unfortunately we’re not always taught how to deal with the real-world issues that face our patients and that threaten the medicine we practice.

This month I’ve been on my neurology rotation at Santa Clara Valley Medical Center, a county hospital with patient demographics quite different from those seen at Stanford Hospital. As I serve a more diverse and disadvantaged socio-economic population, it’s often the case that the information in the patient’s “Social History” section, which I usually quickly pass over, becomes a defining piece in deciding next steps. The 20-something-year-old with daily seizures because he’s so high on methamphetamine that he forgets to take his pills, the 40-year-old with left-sided paralysis who keeps checking in to the emergency department because she feels unsafe living alone in a trailer park, the 60-year-old who didn’t present to the hospital until days after suffering a stroke because he couldn’t physically get to the door to call for help: These patients demonstrate how social situations can make efforts to provide medical care at times seem futile.

In medical school, we’re taught the pathophysiology of disease and systematic approaches to medical management, but not how to deal with social contributors to health. (The latter is a not-so-glamorous aspect of medicine relegated to the hidden curriculum of clerkships.) During pre-clinical years we spend a lot of time discussing how to make empathy a part of our clinical skill-set, but a pitfall to practicing medicine in a way that is sensitive to a patient’s social context is the belief that showing empathy is enough. To express concern for a patient is different from really understanding a patient’s challenges. Things like the fear that drives a patient to repeatedly present to the emergency room for “inappropriate” reasons and the thought process behind not getting an MRI done since it would mean missing work may not fit traditional logic, but they represent an important piece in delivering care.

What can’t be taught in school is an inherent understanding of the difficulties that some patients face, which is why the push for future physicians to be individuals representative of the various backgrounds that patients come from is so important. (It can be surmised that students who have endured these difficulties, themselves or through family, socio-economic or health related, could better relate to patients they come in contact with.) While socio-economic demographics are easily seen on paper, though, what is harder to select for and recruit is the student who has lived the real-world environment characterized by social issues like multiplicity of chronic illness, housing insecurity, and financial hardship. And, of course, many students in this very position never make it to the point of training for a health profession as a result of the very hardships that make them more attune to the social issues that may contribute to poor health.

Medical school recruitment has changed in ways that will hopefully improve diversity of recruited students and contribute to a greater understanding of the background of all sorts of patients among health-care providers. However, more still needs to be done to support students from less-traditional and under-represented backgrounds so they reach the point of applying in the first place. Instead of being discouraged by their less-than-ideal journeys to medical school, students who have endured educational, financial, and social hurdles should be encouraged to use their learned experiences as a frame of reference to positively impact the delivery of health care.

Moises Gallegos is a medical student in between his third and fourth year. He’ll be going into emergency medicine, and he’s interested in public-health topics such as health education, health promotion and global health.

Drawing by Moises Gallegos

Medical Education, Medical Schools

Does medical school debt cause students to choose more lucrative specialties?

Last week, we re-published a Wing of Zock post on medical school debt. Over on that same blog, Julie Fresne, director of student financial services for the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), takes issue with one of the original writer’s points: that concern over medical school debt affects students’ decision about specialties. Fresne writes:

While many claim that debt leads medical students to choose more lucrative specialties, AAMC research indicates that debt does not play a determining role in specialty choice for most students. The report, “Physician Education Debt and the Cost to Attend Medical School,” includes a section outlining evidence on the “minor role of debt in specialty choice.” Studies show that specialty choice is a complex and personal decision involving many factors. Some students with high debt do in fact choose primary care and AAMC data suggests that there is no systematic bias away from primary care specialties by graduates with higher debt levels…

Previously: It’s time for innovation in how we pay for medical school, 8 reasons medical school debt won’t control my life and Will debt forgiveness program remedy doctor shortage?

Medical Education, Medicine and Society, SMS Unplugged

The woman in the elevator: dealing with death in medical training

The woman in the elevator: dealing with death in medical training

SMS (“Stanford Medical School”) Unplugged was recently launched as a forum for students to chronicle their experiences in medical school. The student-penned entries appear on Scope once a week; the entire blog series can be found in the SMS Unplugged category.

flowersAlmost every patient I meet gives me the gift and curse of forcing me to confront a new side of my own vulnerability. I see new ways to die, new ways to suffer, new kinds of setbacks or losses. Of course, very little of this knowledge is technically new: My mother taught me that everyone dies, life isn’t fair, and so on. But since starting clinical training, what is new is the intimacy with which I live that knowledge.

On my neurology rotation, I was sent to examine a little boy in the ICU who had become unresponsive. I will never forget what I saw when I lifted his eyelids. His right pupil was rapidly changing shape from lumpy oval, to diamond, to a slit like a cat’s eye.

I alerted my attending, who somberly explained that that the boy’s brain was probably herniating – in other words, it was under so much pressure that it was being pushed into places it shouldn’t go. A few minutes later, a CT scan showed massive bleeding in his brain. The neurosurgeons were called, but determined they couldn’t save his life. As we left, a curtain was pulled in front of the room.

A few minutes later, already back to work in other parts of the hospital, my team stepped into an elevator. Before the door could close, a young woman ran in behind us. As the elevator ascended, she sunk to the ground and wailed, “Am I going to lose my baby? Please don’t let me lose my baby.” When the doors opened, she sprinted toward the ICU. With horror, I realized the woman was my patient’s mother. Her baby was already gone.

The next morning was a gorgeous Saturday. I had the weekend off so I put on my grungiest clothes and headed to my community garden plot, determined to separate myself from the week’s experiences. Weeds had crept in during a few especially difficult clinical months. I placed a shovel in the dirt, put all my weight on it – and it didn’t budge. I tried again, but the soil wouldn’t yield. I discarded the shovel and reached to pull a huge weed. The dead branches crinkled off in my hand, roots still entrenched in the hard, dry California earth. I sat down among the weeds, defeated, face in my hands.

A woman working another plot – a fellow student gardener I had never met – walked over and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just not strong enough to do this. I should give up my plot.”

“I’ll help you clean it up,” she offered.

“Thanks… Sorry… I’ve just had a bad week.”

“Lots of final exams?”

“No. But I watched a little kid die yesterday.”

My new friend didn’t miss a beat. She knelt down, gave me a hug and said, “You are strong enough. Let’s get your garden cleaned up.”

I believed her, and kept gardening. I proudly told myself I had found an outlet to successfully cope and put the horrible experience behind me.

But it turns out things like watching that child die aren’t processed and compartmentalized so neatly, and can come back to haunt even the best and most personal times. A few months later, on the night before my daughter was born, my husband and I arrived at the hospital full of excitement, and stepped onto the elevator on our way to Labor and Delivery. But as the doors slid shut, I couldn’t suppress the mental image of the last time I rode that same elevator: a desperate young woman on her knees, repeating “Am I going to lose my baby?” For the thousandth time in medical school, I knew the fragility of my own blessings.

I have come to believe that coping doesn’t mean finding a way to separate “personal” life from “professional” experiences. There is no healthy coping mechanism that will let me walk away from experiences like this unaffected. Instead, I just keep telling stories like this one over and over – to myself, my friends and family, and now you – hoping that in the retellings I will find some meaning, some wisdom, some gratitude, or some peace.

Jennifer DeCoste-Lopez is a final-year Stanford medical student applying to residency in Pediatrics this year. She was born and raised in Kentucky and went to college at Harvard. She currently splits her time between clinical rotations, developing a new curriculum in end-of-life care, and caring for her young daughter.

Photo courtesy of Jennifer DeCoste-Lopez

Medical Education, SMS Unplugged

Fewer than six degrees of separation: the small world of higher education

SMS (“Stanford Medical School”) Unplugged was recently launched as a forum for students to chronicle their experiences in medical school. The student-penned entries appear on Scope once a week; the entire blog series can be found in the SMS Unplugged category

six degreesSeven months ago, almost on an impulse, I decided I wanted to spend summer 2014 doing research back in Boston (home to my undergrad institution), instead of at Stanford. To this end, I started looking into possible research mentors, and after browsing through the Boston Children’s Hospital website, I found one person whose research interests aligned with my own, sent this person an e-mail and went back to studying for finals. Less than an hour later, I received a response. Two days later, we spoke on the phone. By the end of the week, I was all set for a summer in Boston.

What struck me the most about this entire exchange was not the speed with which it was conducted but the happenstance that accompanied it: I found out during the phone meeting that my now-mentor had actually attended Stanford medical school as well! What, I wondered, were the odds that the single person I chose to e-mail had graduated from the same institution that I now attended?

I thought about this coincidence more in the months that followed, and the more I thought about it, the less it felt like pure luck. Indeed, the past year has shown me just how small the world of higher education can be. Nearly 50 percent of my 102-person med school class comes from four institutions: Harvard, Yale, MIT and Stanford. One of my closest friends in medical school not only went to college with both the girls I’m living with this summer but also lived with one of my current roommates during a summer in undergrad. One of the other med students with whom I’m working with this summer gave med-school advice to the girlfriend of one of my undergrad buddies and – get this – both this coworker and I, unknowingly, performed at the same dance competition last year.

Moments like these make me feel that the “six degrees of separation” theory would more appropriately be called the “two (or fewer) degrees of separation” theory in the world of higher education. And what I’m wondering is whether or not this is a good thing.

Don’t get me wrong – I love playing the Name Game when I meet someone new (“Hi, I’m Hamsika! Where are you from? Yale? Oh, wait – do you know person X, person Y, or person Z? You know all three! No way!”). But there’s something to be said for diversity, not only in terms of race and culture (the two that seem to receive the most media buzz) but in terms of educational background, as well.

I summarized my thoughts on this “small world of higher education” phenomenon to a Harvard Med friend (incidentally, I met this friend at Stanford Med’s Admit Weekend) a few nights ago, and his response was – “Well, it kind of makes sense. If you go to a school like Harvard for undergrad, you’re probably going to end up at a similarly high-ranked institution for grad school. And,” he added as almost an afterthought, “your parents are probably decently well-off, as well.”

Could it be that we’re creating a self-perpetuating cycle in which the world of higher education becomes smaller and smaller and those who miss the “train,” per se, particularly at the “station” of undergrad education, are “derailed”?

I can’t say I know the right answer, but I’d love to hear your thoughts, as the topic of education – as you might notice from the two-liner at the end of each of my entries – is of particular interest to me. Feel free to add a comment below!

Hamsika Chandrasekar just finished her first year at Stanford’s medical school. She has an interest in medical education and pediatrics. 

Photo by Beth Kanter

Medical Education, Medical Schools

It’s time for innovation in how we pay for medical school

handstiedThere is a tremendous amount of handwringing among students, workforce researchers, and medical school deans about the record amount of debt that medical students incur – more than $175,000, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges. This has unintended consequences, including student selection of more lucrative specialties and placing medical education beyond the reach of low-income and minority students. The average household income for a matriculating medical student is more than $110,000 per year. We must get serious about reducing this debt. A talented medical workforce is a national priority.

[Louis Sullivan, MD,] authored an op-ed piece published in the Washington Post on June 9, 2014, “The Outrageous Cost of Working in Medicine.” In the piece, Sullivan discusses this challenge from both diversity and equity perspectives. He wrote, “You shouldn’t have to come from a wealthy family (or be willing to tolerate a lifetime burden of debt or the deferral of buying a home and starting a family) to go into health care.” Yet 60 percent of medical students hail from families with incomes in the top 20 percent of the nation. Meanwhile only 3 percent come from families with incomes in the lowest 20 percent.

National policymakers believe that, because professionals with medical degrees have high earning potential, they should therefore be in a position to repay loans in excess of $250,000 to $300,000. It simply hasn’t worked out that way for many talented young people who have turned away from the health professions altogether. The “gentrification of health care” serves no one well.

(In this post, I’m not talking about financing graduate medical education – GME – which is funded by Medicare, Medicaid, and academic institutions. In March 2001, Joe Newhouse, PhD, and Gail Wilensky, PhD, published an article in Health Affairs on GME asserting that it does not meet the economist’s definition of “public good:” benefits that are equally available to everyone that cannot exclude consumers from consumption. In the same issue, Uwe Reinhardt, PhD, and Adepeju Gbadebo, MD, pointed out that if GME is indeed a public good, society must also be willing to pay reasonable costs. In return, the leaders of academic medicine must inform society what each component of their social mission really costs, and be willing to be held more formally accountable for their use of the resources.)

What options exist to decrease undergraduate medical school debt?

Decrease medical school tuition and increase efficiencies. Tuition is actually a small part of most medical schools’ revenue. Most revenue comes from clinical services, transfers from teaching hospitals, and research funding. Although less than 5 percent of total revenue at most schools, tuition payments are still significant enough that their loss would impair the institutions’ ability to sustain their missions. There is significant variation in medical school tuition between and among public and private institutions. We could analyze the costs of education to determine if efficiencies can be realized using shared core faculty, distance learning, and MOOCs (massive open online courses) “to inform society what each component of their social mission really costs, and be willing to be held more formally accountable for the use of resources,” per Reinhardt and Gbadebo.

Make medical school free and government-funded. Peter Bach, MD, and Bob Kocher, MD, propose that medical school should be free. In their May 28, 2011, New York Times editorial, they advocated a new way of paying for medical training to address the looming shortage of primary care doctors and to better match the costs of specialty training to the income it delivers. They proposed that the government pay medical school tuition and then defray the costs of $2.5 billion per year by charging doctors for specialty training. This is not the first proposal to recommend making primary care training more accessible. The National Health Service Corps helps doctors repay their loans in exchange for a commitment to work in an underserved area, but few doctors sign up.

Make medical school more affordable for students committed to public service. The Wall Street Journal on April 22, 2014, published an analysis of federal student loan debt forgiveness programs, which increased nearly 40 percent in the past six months. One program, “Pay As You Go,” requires borrowers to pay 10 percent a year of their discretionary income – annual income above 150 percent of the poverty level – in monthly installments. Under the plan, the unpaid balances for those working in the public sector or for nonprofits are then forgiven after 10 years. At least 1.3 million Americans are enrolled in the program.

Continue Reading »

Medical Education, SMS Unplugged

Countdown to clinics: The 5 best things about jumping into third year

Countdown to clinics: The 5 best things about jumping into third year

SMS (“Stanford Medical School”) Unplugged was recently launched as a forum for students to chronicle their experiences in medical school. The student-penned entries appear on Scope once a week; the entire blog series can be found in the SMS Unplugged category.  

cake2Here at SMS Unplugged, we’ve been counting down to July 1, when current second-year medical students make the leap from pre-clinical to clinical trainees – arguably the most formative transition in medical training. We started our countdown with the most challenging aspects of the third year transition, and continued with the most pleasant surprises. Now that the long-awaited day is finally here, we present the final installment in this series: the best parts about jumping into third year.

5. Reclaiming your mornings
The silver lining of early mornings on the wards is the moment around noon every day when you realize that you and your team have completed almost a full day’s work. Of course the day is only half over, but still: Third year will make you into an early-morning All-Star (whether you like it or not).

4. Medicine as a survey course
As difficult as it is to start an entirely new rotation every few weeks, there’s something to be said for being a ‘chameleon’: blending in wherever you go, sampling a little bit of everything and entering each rotation open-minded. Hate suturing wounds? Don’t worry, surgery rotation will be over soon. Had second thoughts and can’t wait to get back to the operating room? Good news – it’s only a matter of time until a surgery elective comes around.

3. Delivering babies
Each rotation has its own highlights, but obstetrics and gynecology takes the (birthday) cake. Even those of us who are headed toward a different specialty can always look back and say our hands helped to guide a new life into the world.

2. Everything is interesting
For all the agonizing about picking a specialty, there’s another side of the coin: When everything is interesting, it’s hard to go wrong by picking one over the others. And for those who truly can’t make up their minds, there are fields like Emergency Medicine that still see everything.

1. Finally doing what you signed up for
After two years of studying for and taking an endless array of multiple-choice tests, it’s time to start doing what you signed up for: seeing real patients with very real needs. One of our professors would start morning rounds every day by saying, “Let’s go save some lives!” He was only half joking.

To all the new third-year students out there: Congratulations and welcome to clinical rotations!

Mihir Gupta is a third-year medical student at Stanford. He grew up in Minnesota and attended Harvard College. Prior to writing for Scope, Mihir served as co-editor in chief of H&P, Stanford medical school’s student journal.

Previously: Countdown to clinics: 5 pleasant surprises of jumping into third year and Countdown to clinics: 7 challenges of jumping into third year
Photo by Kimberly Vardeman

Stanford Medicine Resources: