A survey of 200 physicians under the age of 35 showed that 56% reported unhappiness with the current state of medicine. That number didn’t seem surprising to me at first. I was not particularly “happy” at the time of reading this survey either.

I’ve aspired to become an
oncologist for as long as I can remember. In oncology, despite my inability to
cure, I can always try to heal. I form connections with patients and their
families as they embark on a journey that is quite often their last. I learn
from my patients as much as, and at times more than, they learn from me.

But all of this is overshadowed by
a sense of heaviness that I frequently encounter as I enter the clinic room. That
sense of heaviness hits when a patient tells me of the time when they were placed
on a “brief hold” for more than half an hour in order to reach someone to get a
prescription refilled or reschedule an appointment. Or when their insurance refused
to cover the drug that I had prescribed to them. It is when I hear that clinic
visits or treatments are not scheduled due to insurance authorization delays. Or
when I’m asked about the cost of drugs and end up having to explain how nobody
really knows.

By the time I hear these stories,
the “allotted time” for the clinic visit is coming to an end. The emotional
burden and physical symptoms of my patient’s cancer diagnosis or chemotherapy
side effects often not adequately addressed.

I recall Jessica, a violinist who
has lived with metastatic breast cancer for 4 years, and whose disease has
progressed after multiple lines of chemotherapy. She was hospitalized with a
malignant pleural effusion that impaired her ability to breathe while playing
the violin. I discussed with her the option of enrolling on a clinical trial
after leaving the hospital.

“I am

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