Why I Realized I Wasn’t Cut Out for Healthcare

When I started college, I thought I wanted to be a physician.

I was a student at the Sophie B. Davis biomedical program at the City College of New York, part of the City University of New York system, in historic Harlem. It was an accelerated path: five years followed by two years of medical school, instead of the traditional four plus four.

That was the plan. My reasons for pursuing it deserve honesty.

I didn’t want to become a doctor because I felt called to help people. I wasn’t driven to make an impact or cure a disease. I wanted to be wealthy and live comfortably.

That may sound shallow. Looking back, I think it was. But those were my motivations, and pretending otherwise would make this a different story.

There is nothing wrong with wanting financial security. The problem was choosing a profession without thinking enough about whether I wanted to do the actual work.

Recently, watching my mother receive care reinforced how poorly that career would have fit me.

Seeing the Work Up Close

My mother has had two strokes in about two months. She has been in the emergency room, in the ICU, and is now back in a physical rehabilitation unit.

Through all of it, I have watched healthcare workers at every level provide care, comfort, and concern for her.

I think of them as heroes. That word comes from watching their work: attending to someone who needs help, responding to uncertainty, and bringing patience to situations that can be difficult for both patients and families.

I am grateful.

As someone who once planned to enter their profession, I am also very clear: I am not equipped to do what they do.

Knowing What I Couldn’t Give

It isn’t the sight of blood, bodily fluids, or body parts that would get to me. Although I will admit that vomit is something I find disgusting.

What I would struggle with is sustaining focus while providing care. The patience. The compassion. The ability to keep responding thoughtfully when someone needs more and is already tired.

I care about my mother deeply. But caring about someone and being prepared to care for patients throughout a demanding shift require different things.

I don’t believe I have the patience or the capacity to provide that kind of care consistently. That is uncomfortable to admit, especially while watching people give it to someone who means so much to me. I also need to be honest about that.

Patients deserve care from people who can meet those demands. A desire for a comfortable lifestyle would not have prepared me for them.

The Lifestyle I Hadn’t Thought Through

Then there are the hours.

The long shifts, particularly during residency, would have been another major challenge for me. When I think about the time and responsibility involved, the compensation during training hardly resembles the comfortable life I had imagined.

I had focused on the possible financial rewards of becoming a physician without fully considering the years of demanding work required—or whether the daily work would suit me even after training.

My picture of the profession was incomplete.

Watching my mother’s care has made the part I overlooked much harder to miss.

Gratitude and a Clearer Understanding

I am not suggesting that healthcare workers must be selfless every minute or that they shouldn’t want good pay and comfortable lives. They deserve both. I can appreciate their dedication while recognizing how much the work asks of them.

What I understand now is that my reasons for wanting to become a physician would not have been enough.

There is value in recognizing that a profession does not fit you, even one you once imagined as your future. I can respect this work deeply and acknowledge that I would have struggled to do it well.

To everyone who has cared for my mother—in the emergency room, the ICU, and rehabilitation—thank you for the care, comfort, and concern you have shown her.

Years ago, I imagined what being a physician might give me. Watching you, I see much more clearly what the work would have required of me.