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I still think about the time my German friend was told to eat French fries over the phone by a doctor because her blood sodium levels were low, in 2021. She told me this, and we both guffawed at how incredibly American it was. I remember my time as a 3rd year medical student on my rotations...and many times, I received feedback/performance reviews saying "she is so compassionate".... which, at the time, horrified me. I was horrified because I was just talking to everybody in the hospital how I would like to be treated/talked to. Like someone at the grocery store, or on the street. A person deserving of politeness, respect, and consideration. It reminded me of when I was in my 2nd year medical school class, Introduction to Clinical Reasoning. We were going through a potential patient-provider scenario, when the professor and a classmate exchanged knowing words/glances at how patients "lie" sometimes. "Patient is a poor historian," sometimes, you'll see, written on a patient's chart. Sometimes I would read that line and get mad. But, after suffering verbal/emotional abuse, and enacting some of that abuse on others, I could understand why so many care providers wrote such a thing. Also know, that patients are people, and can lie, whether they are aware of it, or not. It was a lesson I learned, already, too many times, growing up abused by my parents, although in their heads they do not have the same memory of the situation as I did. I saw the way they treated my brother, at times, and I tried to fight for his right to be treated fairly. However, when I have approached him multiple times, his memory of things was not the same as mine. We are five years apart -- a lot changed in my family dynamic during that time. I went through a lot of work to grow from this, and yet, relapsed during the pandemic. I regressed. I got COVID in the earliest wave. I was slowly grieving a break-up, I was dealing with studying for my first set of medicine boards, and the world was burning all around me. And everyone I knew freaked out. In my freshman year of college, I learned something about myself. I learned that there is a darkness inside of me. That I had the power to make bad choices or to take the higher road, even if it meant less glory, less gratification. The Vicodin that was prescribed for my wisdom tooth extraction was a burning reminder in my medicine cabinet of how I could medicate myself to oblivion, even though I wasn't suffering any pain. But, I remembered watching House, MD in high school. How that opiate addiction held him back from his relationships. And I decided, that Vicodin in that cabinet was not for me. When you grow up and realize that there is darkness inside of you -- it's akin to losing your innocence. Or maybe, it's simply realizing that you had it within you the whole time. What is growing up, anyway? Even as children, we are born with souls and minds that can see the truth clearly, more clearly than adults are willing to accept. I still remember being 4 years old and immediately understanding when my parents lied to me. That soul within you, that intuition. That piece of God. And I've "grown up" so many times to realize that that's overrated. Better to look at your world with wonder. If you do, then you understand why Picasso discarded all his techniques and later in life tried his best to make art like a child. So, how do we overcome abuse, or trauma? The answer is so deceptively simple you would laugh. We realize that the past was simply a different reality. That the current reality we live in is not the same, it is for us to create. That all we can do is simply live in the present moment. When we become fully relaxed in the present moment, our eyes and minds open to gifts we never thought possible. Some people in the Christian faith like to put Eve on the chopping block and say she was responsible for the downfall of humanity, for eating fruit that symbolized Knowledge. At NIH's Diversity and Inclusion Course in 2017, I had heard of some folklore that also tells of how within oneself there is a Light Wolf, and a Dark Wolf, and whichever wolf you feed is the one that grows. One experience that saved me, that taught me to feed the Light Wolf, was joining UCLA Mobile Clinic Project in 2011 and watching a compassionate physician as my role model, and how he used motivational interviewing to help these homeless patients help themselves. During my clinical rotations, I saw many instances of psychopathy by physicians, grimaces and verbal expressions of delight at manipulating patients. I heard "this homeless patient is just here for secondary gain," which was just code for "we don't have the abundance mindset to help you, we distrust you because you're a dirty homeless person, a frequent flier." The darkness within me recognizes that that IS a darkness. Something to be avoided, to be shunned. When I spoke up about these things to these physicians and others, they were so far gone mentally that they dismissed my concerns. Or, they believed they didn't have the time. I've had the same erroneous beliefs too, as a provider. Being told to take on so much responsibility you feel as though you could crumble under the weight of it all. But, something I've learned over the years is that, you can MAKE time, if you notice. You just have to care about it enough. Or, perhaps, one doesn't want to assign a moral value to Lightness and Darkness. Perhaps one prefers to think of this as Yin and Yang, of opposing polarities that need to be balanced, and that in reaching that balance, conflict must arise. I have learned, that the more "experience," the more "knowledge" I acquired with clinical rotations in the medical field, gray areas started to emerge and flesh themselves out because I delved deep into the specifics of things, and you had to do what was "right" for your patient, no matter the cost. The thing is, who gets to decide? In internal medicine. I learned of how these brilliant interns and residents I worked with chased lab values and yet, patients didn't always follow the "rules." That, you try your best to a hero. But this aching pain inside me resolved when I realized that sometimes what it means to be a doctor is not just channeling God, but accepting Death, having no fear of Death, and being an arbiter of Death when it comes. So, that led me to hang my proverbial stethoscope/white coat/scrubs up, and say, it was time for me to try something else with medicine. Something in business where it's not about saving hospitals money at the expense of people. That honoring that the first hospital was created in this country out of charity. Something where I don't tell people how to live their life anymore. For me to create something, to do something about sharing, about making things grow, and planting seeds of what I have collected and learned over the years pursuing my calling and make this place better than when I left it. -R. A.