Sole Purpose 110
The Art of Staying Whole: How to Protect
Yourself and Your Passion in Medicine

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I recently had the privilege of rotating on both vascular surgery and general surgery off service, experiences that gave me a broader and more nuanced perspective as to what it truly means to be a surgeon. Beyond the technical growth and clinical exposure, I found myself reflecting on something deeper—how to build a career in healthcare that is not only long, but meaningful, and how to do so without slowly becoming jaded along the way.

During these rotations, I spent time with two senior surgeons whose presence left a lasting impression on me. They were seasoned in every sense of the word—experienced, thoughtful, and grounded—and they spoke openly about their journeys through training and into practice. We talked at length about what residency looked like for them, in an era long before duty hour restrictions or conversations about wellness were part of the culture. The way they described those years made my own experience feel almost gentle by comparison, and yet there was no bitterness in the way they told their stories, only honesty and perspective.

What stayed with me most, though, was not the contrast in our training environments, but the way they had carried themselves through it all. Both were exceptionally kind, unshakably calm in the operating room, and deeply committed to teaching. There was a steadiness with them that felt intentional, as if it had been built and protected over time. It made me pause and wonder how they had preserved that sense of patience, that generosity, and that quiet positivity after training in what sounded, at times, like a far more unforgiving and even toxic environment.

I have found myself returning to that question, especially on the days when fatigue sets in and it becomes easier to feel overwhelmed. In those moments, I try to take a step back and recognize what is driving that feeling—not cynicism but simply being tired—and remind myself of the kind of physician I want to be. I think about the responsibility that we carry not just to our patients, but to the students and trainees around us, and how much of that responsibility lives in the way we show up: with patience, with presence, and with a willingness to teach even when it is easier not to.

Maybe longevity in this field is less about enduring what comes your way and more about how you choose to carry it, about making small, deliberate decisions each day to remain open, steady, and kind, even when the environment around you does not always make that easy. So below, I want to share some of the advice that they have given me and how I am implementing it.

Have Hobbies

Residency has a way of becoming all-consuming, where your schedule, your energy, and often your identity revolves around the hospital. That reality is hard to escape, and in many ways, it’s part of the process. But within that intensity, it becomes even more important to hold onto the parts of your life that exist outside of medicine, the things that remind you who you are beyond your role as a resident.

There is something grounding about having an outlet that is entirely your own, especially when it involves working with your hands or engaging your mind in a different way. One of my attendings, for example, loves fishing, and you can see it translate into the operating room in the most unexpected way—his knot tying is effortless, almost instinctive. But more than that, he has been intentional about emphasizing how important it is to have something outside of surgery, something that creates space and balance in a life that can otherwise feel very one-dimensional.

For me, that outlet has always been running. Being part of a local running community near my residency has given me a group of people and a sense of connection that exists separate from the hospital. It offers a space where conversations don’t revolve around cases or call schedules, where I can be outdoors, moving, and reconnecting with something I’ve loved since childhood. Alongside that, I find joy in quieter, creative outlets—baking, crafting, reading, making things with my hands—small acts that feel restorative in their simplicity.

These pieces of your life may seem small compared to the demands of residency, but they are not insignificant. They are what keep you feeling like a whole person. And in a field that asks so much of you, holding onto that sense of self is not just important, it’s necessary.

Have Something That Resets You

After a particularly challenging stretch, when you finally have a day off, it can be tempting to do nothing at all—to stay in bed, scroll endlessly, and let the day pass without intention. And while rest is absolutely necessary, I’ve learned that there is a difference between resting and truly resetting. One leaves you still feeling depleted, while the other restores you in a way that prepares you to step back into the work ahead.

For me, that looks like a combination of small, restorative acts: moving my body on a long run with friends, taking the time to feel clean and reset after the week, sharing a slow meal with someone I love, tidying my space just enough to make it feel livable, and carving out moments for things that bring me quiet joy, like writing, baking, or simply being outside. Individually, these things are simple, but together they help me feel like myself again—grounded, clear, and ready to return to the work ahead. A reset doesn’t have to be elaborate, but it does have to be intentional, especially in a season of life where so much else is not.

Protect Your Energy (Not Just Your Time)

In residency, there is constant talk about managing your time, how to fit more into already packed days, how to be efficient, how to check off every task on your list. But over time, I’ve realized that protecting your energy is just as important, if not more. Not every opportunity needs to be taken, and not every free moment needs to be optimized. There is a quiet skill in knowing when to say no, when to step back, and when rest is actually more productive than pushing through.

Energy is finite, and in a field that constantly demands it, being intentional about where you invest yours matters. If there are activities you truly dislike—extracurriculars or “bonus” responsibilities—give yourself permission to skip them when you’re already drained. Some days, the most responsible thing you can do is less, not more, so that you can preserve yourself and show up fully when your are needed next—not just for your patients, but for your life outside the hospital.

Stay Curious

It is easy, especially during long, grueling rotations, to slip into survival mode, where the goal is simply to make it to the end of the day. But what has kept me engaged, grounded, and genuinely excited about learning is curiosity—allowing myself to follow questions, dig into cases that interest me, and wonder about the “why” behind what I’m doing.

I notice a tangible difference when I take the time to explore something I’m curious about. I feel less like a residency robot and more like myself—a learner again, rather than just a doer. Curiosity breathes life into the routine, reminding me that there is still something to discover, still growth happening even on the days that feel repetitive.

Find Your People (Inside the Hospital Too)

Having a life outside medicine is vital, but finding connection within it is equally important. Some of my favorite residency memories have been simple: joking with co-residents in the lounge, sharing a laugh between rounds, or exchanging quiet understanding with nurses and scrub techs during a long OR day. These small connections become part of the rhythm of your days and can shape your experience far more than you might realize.

There is something grounding about having people who just get it, who know what your day looked like without needing an explanation. Those shared moments—quick conversations, a smile in the hallway, a laugh on a tough call—make the hardest days lighter. How you treat these people matters, too; cultivating respect, gratitude, and camaraderie within your team is just as important as any clinical skill.

Create Small Rituals

Residency is unpredictable, which is why small, consistent rituals can be a surprisingly powerful anchor. They don’t need to be elaborate—morning coffee before a long OR day, a walk after a tough shift, or even a favorite playlist on the drive home can create rhythm and stability in an otherwise chaotic schedule.

For me, I have a “special fancy coffee” ritual for big OR days when I need a little extra motivation to bounce out of bed. I’ve also started putting on a little makeup before work, not because it matters to anyone else, but because it helps me feel confident and ready to face the day. These rituals may seem small, but over time, they signal a transition between roles, a chance to decompress, and a way to reconnect with yourself amidst the busyness.

Celebrating the Small Wins

There is always more to do in medicine, another skill to learn, another area to improve. If you’re not intentional, it’s easy to overlook how far you’ve come. That’s why celebrating the small wins matters so much.

Even if you’ve had a string of challenging days in the OR or feel like you’re progressing slower than your peers, pause to acknowledge the growth you’ve made since day one of podiatry school. The first time a concept clicks, a patient expresses gratitude, or you feel a moment of confidence you didn’t have before—these are victories. Recognizing them allows you to see that, even in the midst of struggle, you are moving forward.

Remember Why You Started (And Let It Evolve)

“Remember your why” is advice we hear often, but I’ve learned that your “why” is not fixed. It evolves as you grow. What brought you into medicine may not be the same thing that sustains you through residency, and that is perfectly okay.

I still revisit my personal statement from podiatry school, remembering the passionate premed student who wanted to help every diabetic patient. That passion remains, but my goals for my career and the kind of physician I want to become have grown clearer and more grounded in real-life experience. Over time, your purpose becomes rooted not in an abstract ideal, but in the patients you care for, the lives you impact, and the moments where you see your work make a tangible difference. Let your “why” grow with you—it will become more personal, more meaningful, and more enduring.

Take Care of Your Body Like It’s Part of Your Job

Residency has a way of making you feel like you can run on adrenaline alone, but the truth is that your ability to show up—whether in the operating room, on rounds, or with patients—is directly tied to how well you care for yourself. Sleep, nutrition, movement— these aren’t luxuries. They are what allow you to think clearly, move confidently, and be fully present.

I tell every student the same thing: we make time to eat. I’ve had mornings rushing between cases, protein bar in one hand, scrub cap in the other, thinking I can “push through.” But then there are the mornings when I actually sit down for a bite, even just a few minutes, and I notice the difference. My hands are steadier at the table and later at the OR, my focus is sharper, and I feel calmer. I can’t operate safely if my blood sugar drops or if I’m shaking from fatigue. Protecting my body is not just about me—it’s about keeping my patients safe.

Taking care of yourself isn’t separate from being a doctor; it’s an essential part of the work. Every choice to move, eat, sleep, or rest is a choice to show up better for the people who depend on you—and to preserve the ability to love this work for the long run.

Conclusion

Residency is a marathon in every sense—physically, mentally, and emotionally. The lessons I’ve shared are not just about surviving; they are about creating a way to thrive, to carry yourself through years of training with energy, curiosity, and a sense of purpose intact. It’s about protecting your body and your mind, holding onto the parts of yourself that exist outside the hospital, and cultivating habits and relationships that sustain you.

The surgeons who inspired me reminded me that longevity in this field isn’t about enduring hardship alone—it’s about the choices we make every day, the way we show up for patients, colleagues, and ourselves, and the small intentional acts that preserve our joy and curiosity. Running, baking, laughter with friends, sitting down for a proper meal, celebrating a small win—these may seem minor in the grand scheme of residency, but together, they are what allow us to remain present, engaged, and compassionate.

If there is one thing I hope to carry forward—and to share with those who come after me—it’s that being a surgeon is about more than the hours you endure or the skills you master. It’s about the life you build around that work, the care you give yourself alongside the care you give your patients, and the intentional decisions you make to remain steady, kind, and curious through it all. In the end, that balance is what allows you not just to survive residency, but to love being a physician and sustain a career that feels meaningful for a lifetime.