When I imagined the path to becoming a doctor, I always pictured it in more of an academic sense: reading textbooks, flipping through thousands of flashcards, and poring over human anatomy. I’ve always loved learning, and medicine felt like the perfect path—an endless opportunity to sharpen my reasoning and deepen my curiosity. What I didn’t expect was to spend so many days learning about medicine from a front-row seat–as a patient.
Each illness presents its own unique set of challenges for both patient and provider; in my case, the overarching challenge is with uncertainty. In October and November of last year, I started to feel really, really tired, and for some reason it stayed that way even after a full night's sleep. I needed to take more breaks throughout the day, and I instinctively ate more food even when I wasn’t hungry to try to give myself some energy. But I didn’t know why I felt that way, and figured I might be depressed. Then I got sick three separate times, but by February I still hadn’t recovered from them. That’s when I really started to panic. I knew something was wrong—I just didn’t know what.
Then came the lab tests—so many of them. While most everything would come back completely normal, occasionally something would be outside of the normal range, and unlike the average healthy person getting blood work, the abnormal results gave me hope. Maybe I had something curable, something that could be fixed with a simple run of antibiotics or a single medication. But every time I got my hopes up, it turned out to be a harmless genetic mutation or a flawed test. Meanwhile, I was missing more and more school, work, and time with friends—and I was starting to get really scared. Was I dying? What should I tell people? And most importantly: what do I do?
Finally, I was able to meet with a doctor that specializes in my confusing mix of symptoms, and I got diagnosed with a condition I had barely heard of: ME/CFS. I thought a diagnosis would bring relief and validation. Instead, it brought grief—and more questions than answers. That’s when I realized the real learning had just begun—not about obscure diseases, but about myself.
Since ME/CFS is a chronic, incurable condition that affects everyone differently, my treatment nowadays is figuring out what works for me. In a way, I’ve become my own test subject. I track my heartrate 24/7, log symptoms daily, record every medication and supplement, and for a month I even tracked every single thing I ate. And because of this precision, I figure something out about myself almost every week: a food that makes my stomach upset, a medication that I’m taking slightly too much of, or an activity that helps me relax. It’s shown me just how personal medicine has to be; while we often use studies done on thousands of people to inform medical decisions, not everyone is an average patient. Sometimes small differences in anatomy or physiology matter most.
I recently visited a provider I had never seen before who works with a variety of chronic conditions, and they were able to look at my condition in a new light—as a person, not a collection of diagnostic labels. We talked about old medication reactions, lifelong habits, and seemingly unrelated medical quirks. What might have been insignificant to some of my other providers was a meaningful clue to them with their unique background and curiosity. As a result, I walked out of the appointment having learned something about myself and with some new leads to investigate.
As a future provider, I want to bring that same curiosity, care, and personalization to each individual patient. I want to listen to every detail of a patient’s story, empathize with their struggles, and not rush to conclusions. I want to understand them physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, crafting a treatment plan that fits them, not someone else. The best doctors I’ve seen haven’t just filled prescriptions–they’ve made me feel seen, understood, and unique. I hope to do the same in the decades ahead.
But for now, I’m still learning to heal while learning to hurt.
This week I’d like to know: has uncertainty ever shaped the way you see yourself or your future?
Well that’s all for this week friends; if you think this would resonate with someone in your life, please pass it along. I’d love for them to join us on this journey.
Stay curious,
Owen