After the storm
By my third year of medical school, wearing a white coat every day had lost its lustre, and I had become discouraged by the increasingly fervent screeds against becoming a doctor. From blog posts by former doctors to dire political predictions about the future of healthcare, it seemed that a career in medicine could no longer provide me with the satisfaction I’d hoped for.
And then, two weeks from the end of my pediatrics rotation, Hurricane Sandy slammed into New York City. I spent a physically and emotionally exhausting four days helping to evacuate patients from our two teaching hospitals. Once that was over, I sought to stave off my grief by working overnight at a high school turned evacuation shelter in one of the hardest hit areas with one of the surgeons who supervises me. I expected to be handing out a few ibuprofen tablets for headaches and drifting