Seventy rejections.
Two application cycles, three gap years, seventy nos. The arc that people call resilience when they're being generous and grit when they're not paying attention. What the three years actually did.
Read the note →Field notes from inside the repair — medicine, the specific breaks, and the quiet work of becoming a physician. No cadence promise. Notes land when they're ready.
Two application cycles, three gap years, seventy nos. The arc that people call resilience when they're being generous and grit when they're not paying attention. What the three years actually did.
Read the note →Forty thousand feet above the Pacific on the way home from Hawaii, a passenger went down. Syncope, cyanosis, bradycardia. Eleven years of training compressed into the length of a flight attendant walking back to my seat. What the training was actually for.
Read the note →A one-sentence belief I arrived at on my own after eleven years of moving toward things that scared me. It is not a quote — it is a working definition. Here's the version I use before walking into the hard room.
Read the note →No weekly newsletter. No inbox-every-Tuesday promise. Just an email when a new note goes up — which might be this week, might be a month from now, might be when something clinically or personally needs writing down. Workshop hours.
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