Medical School Blues: COVID-19 Edition

By Emilie Touma

I’ve just begun my second semester of medical school and I still can’t wrap my head around it. Becoming a physician has been my most treasured goal since I was a little girl, and starting medical school has put me so much closer to that reality. Medical school though isn’t exactly how I imagined it to be. Sure, I spend most waking hours studying, I’ve permanently damaged my posture, and the highlight of my day is squeezing in a podcast on my walk to study. Like every other student and physician who has come before me, each day has been an experiment to maximize efficiency, to create a healthy balance, and to prevent going insane with the monotony of it all. Despite this typical medical student experience, current M1s across the country have had to jump into the madness in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic.  While this transition has been trying, isolating, and seemingly impossible at times, it has also provided a much-needed opportunity for self-reflection and personal growth.

Each morning, I roll out of bed around 8:45am, make coffee, and arrive at my kitchen table to attend daily lecture (with the camera off, of course). With my bed only 4 feet away from my table and distractions a reach away, remaining engaged with the professor and material is a constant struggle. After lecture, I head to our med student study room, where I sit socially distanced and in a mask for the entirety of my study periods. Though it's not exactly the ideal study environment, it's the perfect excuse to see friends and engage with other humans (a rarity these days!). Our clinical experiences also take place over zoom, where we engage virtually with standardized patients who often encourage us to make more eye contact through the camera. It's only as I’m typing that I realize just how bizarre our experience has been. But this is all we know as M1s -- this is our medical school reality.

As far as academics go, we are doing okay. I’m confident that we, M1s, are adaptable and perseverant; It’s how we got to medical school in the first place. What deeply concerns me though is the state of mental health amongst this population of medical students. While I can only speak from my own experience, I know it is shared with many others in similar positions across institutions. Facing medical school in a pandemic has proven to be isolating and lonely-- there’s really no other way to spin it. Yes, I’ve made some incredible friends and my best friend since kindergarten lives 7 minutes away from me. I have family across the state and parents who are deeply invested in my wellness. Despite a sound support system and many shoulders to lean on, it's still lonely. I think the root of it is a little different for everyone. For me, it's not being able to go to a common space and run into familiar (and maskless) faces. Or attend our small discussion class in person, rather than zoom, to discuss heavy topics such as social determinants of health, mental wellness, and grief/dying. I’m missing a sense of community and intimacy that can only be created with proximity and shared commiseration.

With all the lows of this transition, there are also highs for which I'm grateful. I’ve been lucky to find an amazing group of friends who have been critical to my sanity and well-being. I also feel incredibly supported by my mentors, professors, and preceptors at the University of Kentucky, who are doing everything they can to make this period comfortable and as close to normal as possible. Most importantly, I’ve had time (and have made the time) to focus on my own mental wellness. I’m learning what brings me peace and joy, while also facing my insecurities head on. Even more, I just learned that I will be receiving my vaccine this week, which has brought me a sense of hope and gratitude that I haven’t felt in a while. 

So, if you know a medical student, I encourage you to reach out to them. We don’t ask for help as much as we should, and we understand that others have it much worse right now-- like the residents, physicians, and other frontline healthcare workers (read: superheroes) who are fighting this virus in ways we can’t even imagine. Yet, we are still struggling in our own ways and crave connection now more than ever as we wait out this pandemic.

Emilie is a first-year medical student at the University of Kentucky College of Medicine. In 2019, she graduated from Northwestern University with a degree in Neuroscience. Following graduation, she worked as a research assistant for IMPACT co-founder and Chief Research Officer, Dr. Amisha Wallia, before starting medical school. She also joined the IMPACT team as an Action Fellow at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Emilie is interested in pursuing a career in Child Neurology and academic medicine.