reflections on being a medical student in Baltimore

Today after our first exam of medical school we had our second "Patient, Physician, and Society" course. The title was "Physician Narrative" and we were assigned to read 5 chapters out of Abraham Verghese's My Own Country. While the lecture portion of the class was thoughtful and generally worthwhile (except that somehow the course director didn't communicate to the lecturer that we were assigned one of the chapters she read out loud), the group discussion portion was horrible. It was meant for us to reflect deeply about our new social responsibilities as a physician. The leaders of the discussion, two young female physicians, had nothing prepared for discussion and we were left to throw out insights or ask questions about how much their experience resembles the stories recounted in the book. Maybe some of the people in my class have never interacted with anyone different from themselves, but it was mildly insulting to have the facilitators telling us that "most drug users are actually nice people" as if that would come as a complete shock. And as though having to face the challenge of interacting with people so different from ourselves was a side effect of choosing to study at Hopkins. I am eager for the portion of the course where we, the students, will lead the discussion and share with each other as peers. There are a number of people in the group who have spent significant time in this city and have probably chosen to stay here specifically because of the diversity of the patient backgrounds and the resilient spirit of the people here.

More moving than that exercise was the frustrating occasion of my first flat tire on my bike. As I walked up Guilford Ave (my street) experiencing both brightly-colored, recently painted homes and those that have been abandoned and boarded up. Passing people sitting on their stoops conversing and passing the hot afternoon hours, I felt some of the sentiments that Abraham Verghese shared in his book: the feeling of being a part of a community where nothing is perfect but. A number of people noted the irony of me, a white student (my backpack probably indicated that) walking through a run-down black neighborhood pushing a bike. A few asked why I wasn't riding or confirmed that I had a flat tire, many others just said hello.

For some reason this walk and these interactions inspired me to reflect on the consequences of doing my training in this city. Now that I've committed to being here in Baltimore for at least the next 4 years, deciding to take on a career in improving the health of my community, I can't say that any aspects (good or bad) of this community don't have anything to do with me. I'm a part of it and it's a part of me. I share this neighborhood with people who have lived here all of their lives, and from this point forward we will build it and grow together. While I am growing and becoming a physician, other people will be experiencing equally meaningful life experiences like going through primary or secondary school, getting married, having children, etc. It's a powerful feeling to be a part of something bigger, a movement to defy what people think they know about this city and find ways of making it a place we are all proud to live.