Finding Patience in the Ocean

At the end of my freshman year as a premedical student, I was jaded. I felt cynical about the pressure to rack up accomplishments and “check boxes” like the other premedical students. Eight out of the 10 physicians I had met in the last three years recommended that I reconsider my plan to go into medicine. I had been reading online forums about the stress of exams in medical school and the tightening requirements to get in. A resident and a physician at one of my relative’s hospital had committed suicide in the last year. While I personally have not felt burnt out yet, I often feel secondhand stress from people in medicine around me. I hear and read about many of the negative feelings they are experiencing, and the unfortunate circumstances they are dealing with, and I worry. I worry about suffering from the same apathy and helplessness that others describe when they talk about a career in medicine. I worry about being in a community where I can’t share these same worries with others without feeling shame or fearing repercussions.

For any young trainee, it can be hard not to feel helpless when it seems like there is no end to the systemic struggles that healthcare professionals face. While it is wonderful that trainees of all stages and physicians are starting to openly talk about mental health and the issues causing burnout, American healthcare systems still make it difficult for physicians and trainees to cope with their own mental health issues. Physicians have to report any mental health conditions and disclose any treatments they are using to state licensing boards. Trainees feel pressure to keep mental health issues to themselves as they may be discriminated against for their illnesses in the applications they fill out for their graduate school, residency, fellowship, or first job.

Still contemplating the beast that is a career in medicine, I was distracted temporarily by a surfing trip my friend had planned in the end of August. Throughout my childhood, my family and I had taken many trips to the beach. Each time I went I watched the ocean from afar, wondering what was hidden inside the waves. The calm, quiet metronome left me puzzled. I knew that this trip was my opportunity to find out. Like any normal person, I was scared to swim in open waters my first time. Even though I loved the ocean’s soft rhythm I knew that beneath the surface, metric tons of water thrashed about leaving the pretty foam on top. Anyone would be nervous to be caught inside that. Reluctantly, I joined him if he promised to teach me on the shore.

He gave a quick demonstration on the sand. In 10 minutes, I was on my stomach pushing the water behind me as we glided further out. For the first 20 minutes, I sat and watched as toddlers, seniors, teenagers, and bleach-blonde locals catapulted themselves into a wave, floating on top of froth almost effortlessly. As the next wave rolled in, I faced the shore and began to frantically paddle into the madness hoping to join the ranks. I felt a brief lift and saw my board’s nose dip underneath the curl. Before I could react, I was thrown underneath the wave, my board flying out and dragging me with it. I came up sputtering and got back on my board furiously and I immediately tried to catch the next wave. The same thing happened again. And again. I was defeated. My shoulders were sore and the salt had left my eyes bloodshot and weary. My friend looked over and laughed at me shaking his head.

“You have to be patient. Don’t chase a wave you can’t catch. Let it come to you.” I waited 10 minutes before trying again. This time, I watched carefully, using my arms to bring me up to speed with the wave and paddling until it took over. I finally felt the lift, and while I wasn’t standing up the wave was carrying me to shore. Excitedly, I scrambled to stand and lost my balance.

When I came up from underneath the surface, I had a big smile on my face. I had focused and finally caught a wave. For a couple seconds, I was alone with the ocean. I had nothing on my mind besides what was in front of me. I looked behind me and saw another wave starting to break, others picking up speed and beginning the same journey. I realized what all of us were looking for inside of the barrel: the opportunity to be truly present. Alone on the lip of a crashing wave, I felt focused on myself, trying to extend that moment for as long as possible. My mind was empty, allowing me to truly appreciate what I was experiencing for the first time.

Surfing helped me cope with my fear of the future and become more appreciative of where I am right now. I have made a few more trips to the beach and found that each time has helped me become more grateful of the opportunities I am afforded as a premedical student. The uniquely freeing isolation of the water gave me time to think about why I am pursuing medicine in the first place. While lying on my board waiting for the next wave, I would think back to the wonderful doctors I worked with this past summer at the California Department of Healthcare Services and how much they taught me every day. I thought about the Prenatal Care Town Hall I attended where I learned about the frustrations mothers felt when they went to their checkups. My first time surfing taught me to be patient and present. Surfing taught me to enjoy my role as a student now as it’s just as important as my time will be as a medical professional.

I hope that surfing can help others in my position. Medical trainees and physicians could benefit from organized opportunities to surf with their colleagues: they may find a renewed appreciation for their (future) careers and an outlet to cope with daily stressors. While surfing is not the perfect activity for everyone, activities like surfing can help change the stigma around mental health and help us move forward to talk about it as a profession and not just as individuals.