OSU, Cherokee Nation graduate new docs
Caitlin Cosby’s path to becoming a doctor started in a college anatomy course. Her professor recognized her love for science and encouraged her to pursue medicine as a career.
She eventually found a medical school that seemed like the perfect fit for her: a brand-new college of osteopathic medicine next to the Cherokee Nation hospital in Tahlequah.
Oklahoma State University had partnered with the tribe to open the school, aiming to train a new generation of doctors to care for Native people and other underserved communities in rural Oklahoma. The OSU College of Osteopathic Medicine at the Cherokee Nation is the first tribally-affiliated medical school in the United States.
As a citizen of the Choctaw Nation, Cosby believed the school would give her a unique opportunity to learn alongside other Native students and physicians. Less than 1% of doctors nationwide are Native American.
“I really wanted to be a part of starting to change those numbers and be a Native physician that got to graduate from the only Native-affiliated medical school,” Cosby said.
She achieved that goal on Thursday, graduating in the school’s inaugural class along with 45 other students. The graduates included nine Native students. Cosby plans to practice in tribal communities, starting with a family medicine residency at a hospital in Durant, where the Choctaw Nation is based.
“It’s just really important to show patients that you have someone caring for you who understands where you’re coming from and what you’re going through,” Cosby said.
In a state that faces physician shortages and high rates of cancer and diabetes, OSU officials and Cherokee leaders hope the school and its graduates can begin turning the tide.
Two-thirds of the school’s first graduates plan to complete their residencies in Oklahoma, and 35% have residencies in rural areas. A handful of the graduates have residencies in tribal hospitals or clinics.
“For the last many decades, what worked against us was the stat that said, a doctor or a medical student will practice within a driving distance of where she got her medical education,” said Chuck Hoskin Jr., principal chief of the Cherokee Nation. “That stat’s still true. But now we’re counting on it instead of laboring under it.”
Talks about launching the medical school started more than a decade ago between university officials and thenPrincipal Chief Bill John Baker. In those discussions, they found a shared vision of increasing access to health care in rural parts of the state, where many tribal citizens live, said Dr. Kayse Shrum, the president of Oklahoma State. She was involved in the talks when she directed the OSU Center for Health Sciences, which she led for eight years before she became president of the university in 2021.
Shrum was especially struck when Baker told her that Cherokee culture focuses on taking steps that will have a positive impact for the next seven generations.
“You think about in your lifetime, how many chances you have to work on something that has that significant of an impact, not just on health care, but the trajectories of families,” Shrum said. “That was significant for everyone involved.”
The school opened in August 2020 in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. Many of the initial courses were taught by videoconference. Instructors had to design in-person labs with enough space to allow for social distancing.
Students rolled with all the changes, said Dr. Janel Johnson, an assistant professor of medical education at the school. Johnson, a Cherokee citizen, teaches core courses for first- and second-year students and also works with upper-class students during their rotations in a college clinic.
After COVID vaccines became available, students could sign up to give shots at a Cherokee Nation outpatient clinic, Johnson said. “Those slots were filled so fast,” she said. “They were thrilled to be there and do what they could during this.”
Students could learn more about Cherokee culture during events hosted at the school, such as sessions to learn the basics of beading and making moccasins. Those types of opportunities for students and faculty to come together, talk and create don’t happen on most medical school campuses, Johnson said.
In all, the school had 202 students this year, its fourth in operation. Twenty-two percent were Native, collectively representing 11 tribal nations.
For Cosby, it was important to learn next to other Native students who shared similar backgrounds. She also enjoyed learning directly from Native physicians and living in Tahlequah, where the Cherokee Nation is based.
“I think that’s really special to be able to be able to work around that culture all the time in medical school,” she said, “rather than just seeing a patient every once in a while at other rotations.”
Hoskin said the school’s impact will not only be measured by the doctors that it trains, but the messages it sends to Cherokee communities about what Cherokee kids can be.
“You know the old saying, ‘You can’t be what you can’t see,’” Hoskin said. “Well, they can see this in a real way, and that just makes me very optimistic about the future.”