Why I left journalism for medical school
I don’t want to bury the lead, so like a good reporter, I’ll get right to the point: I spent 10 years as a journalist then decided to go to medical school. On Friday, Match Day, during which medical students across the country discovered where they would do their residency, I found myself one step further along the unique path I chose. I’ve been asked many times why I decided to make such a seismic shift in my career, and I usually respond as I once did about my relationships: “It’s complicated.”
I was an English major and began my journalism career by traveling through Asia, writing about local farmers for an organic agricultural magazine. From there, I worked at a radio program in Pittsburgh, a television program in New York and for three years at the Houston Chronicle. Along the way, I got a master’s degree in journalism from the University of California, Berkeley. Stories I worked on took me to China, Japan, Thailand and India, among other places. And I was part of a team that was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize while covering Hurricane Ike for the Chronicle. For me, journalism was not something I dabbled in — it was a passion, my life’s work.
It is difficult to explain what led me to leave all of that. Perhaps the biggest factor was the personal experiences I had with friends and family dealing with illness. When my grandmother had a stroke, my family spent days in the hospital, scared and vulnerable, under a shroud of confusion. I was struck by the compassion of the doctors who cared for her. The director of palliative care spent hours talking with us, giving us the information we needed to make decisions on her care. He even visited our home, where she spent her last days.
I also watched my best friend from college struggle with crippling depression that left him unable to hold down a job. When a psychiatrist diagnosed his bipolar disorder and adjusted his medication regimen, his life trajectory began to change. He completed a master’s degree, gained employment and found a life partner. I was extremely moved by the gifts these doctors gave me and those I cared for, and I suppose I began wanting the opportunity to give these kinds of gifts myself.
These experiences occurred while I was covering stories in Houston’s Medical Center. I was particularly struck when listening to doctors speak of the recovery of former congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, who was shot in the head during an assassination attempt. I also found myself fascinated when interviewing an infectious-disease doctor about the swine flu pandemic. Not sure where it would take me, I started volunteering at Houston Methodist Hospital, spending time with patients who were in the hospital for an extended duration. Something just felt right about that setting, those experiences. The idea of becoming a doctor crept into my psyche and took up residence.
After two years of volunteering, I began making elaborate spreadsheets, weighing the pros and cons of leaving journalism for a career in medicine. I loved journalism for the opportunities to engage with people and craft their stories into something meaningful. Along the way, I hoped my work would shed light on important issues of social justice. I had listened to many difficult stories as a journalist. But I found myself wanting the opportunity to do more for the individuals I interviewed. At the age of 32, my gut said to pursue a career in medicine, and so did the spreadsheet.
I spent a year and a half completing pre-medical courses at the University of Houston, took the MCAT and was accepted into Baylor College of Medicine. The transition to medical school was difficult at times. It wasn’t just memorizing reams of textbook pages that was a challenge. I also had to deal with being on the lowest rung of the medical ladder. My experiences in journalism meant nothing when I was sitting for medical exams or scrubbing in for heart surgery.
But my previous work did mean something at times. My interviewing experience was useful when speaking with patients in the hospital. And my writing background has served me well while documenting patient notes and writing medical articles and book chapters. I’ve recently been inspired to develop a pilot project that allows Houston refugees the opportunity to share their life story with medical students. My ongoing fascination with human narratives led to me to pursue the field of psychiatry.
This summer, I will don my white coat and begin my psychiatry residency, staying here in Houston at Baylor College of Medicine. I am far from finished, but I am excited about the road I’m on. I am reminded of the poem by Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken.” This poem is often mistakenly interpreted as the author extolling the virtues of the road less traveled. In reality, he implied that either route was fine. Like Frost, I recognize that there are many equally good paths one can choose in life. But if you do come across two roads diverged, and find your heart drawn to the road less traveled, you might give it a try.