How the Experience of Personal Grief Can Shape Us as Physicians

Residency can often be known as the hardest period of time in our lives as physicians. The long hours, hard work, and sacrifices we make in our 20s and early 30s often go unnoticed. At times, we can feel like robots when it comes to working as a resident: being so focused on our work that we tend to forget about the personal aspects of our lives while in the hospital. We often learn how to treat diseases and conditions that we will never experience having, nor experiencing having family members have on their own. This can make it challenging to connect to patients on a personal level within the 4 walls of the hospital or clinic. We have always been taught to treat patients like they are members of our family, but the volume of patients we see on a daily basis can take away this feeling.

Until personal grief happens to you.

It was in the Spring of my intern year during internal medicine residency. I was learning how to become a doctor and trying to keep afloat with balancing the other aspects of residency: board exams, research projects, and maintaining a healthy work-life balance. I was doing well—loving my new city, learning a lot, making great friends through my program, and becoming comfortable with my work as a physician-in-training. Unfortunately, my world came crashing down when my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer on March 10, 2025. On that day, little did we know what the road ahead would look like for us. Having to explain medical topics to family members not in medicine was extremely challenging, but also quite the learning experience as someone newly working in medicine.

The next several months were filled with daunting tasks for me and my wife. The numerous doctors’ appointments, imaging studies, lab testing, and constant anxiety that came with each and every step. I watched my wife undergo 16 chemotherapy sessions, 2 surgeries, and 30 radiation sessions over the course of 7 months. Being on the other side of the stethoscope is an eye-opening experience, and I believe my personal experience with my wife’s journey has shaped me into a better physician. I watched as she processed complex medical information while simultaneously confronting fear, uncertainty, and vulnerability. In those moments, I came to appreciate how critical it is to not only communicate clearly, but to do so with patience, presence, and genuine understanding. I learned that what may feel routine to a physician can be life-altering for a patient.

Medicine demands empathy, precision, and resilience, but it was not until I stood on the other side of the exam room that I truly understood what those ideals require in practice. Walking alongside my wife through her illness transformed my perspective on patient care, deepened my compassion, and refined the way I approach every clinical encounter. I realized how easily patients can feel overwhelmed, unheard, or reduced to a diagnosis. Experiencing the healthcare system from the patient’s side revealed gaps I had not fully recognized before. The waiting, the fragmented communication, and the subtle moments of reassurance (or lack thereof) became deeply personal. I began to understand how much small gestures matter: sitting down when breaking bad news, pausing to ask extra questions, and acknowledging emotions that go unspoken. These are not inefficiencies. They are essential components of healing. As a result, I have become more intentional in my interactions as a physician, striving to ensure that each patient feels seen, heard, and valued.

Over the last year-and-a-half of my medical training, I have taken care of numerous patients with cancer—some with breast cancer, just like my wife, some undergoing active treatment, and others in remission. I have been able to connect to these patients on a personal level, as I can empathize with what they and their families are going through. This experience has deepened my empathy. I no longer see patients solely through the lens of their clinical presentations, but as individuals whose lives extend far beyond the hospital or clinic. I think about their fears, their responsibilities, and their hopes. These experiences have made me more patient, more attentive, and more acclimated to the human side of medicine. And while I would never have chosen this path, it has shaped me into a physician who practices with greater empathy, humility, and purpose.