Gravity, purpose, and “Stranger Things” 

By Sarah Syed, MD, Johns Hopkins Medicine 

I was scrolling on my phone the other day when I came across an interview with the cast of the show “Stranger Things.” With the final season now streaming, the stars were asked questions about how it felt to wrap up this huge project that’s spanned over a decade. During this particular clip, the interviewer directed his question to Maya Hawke, who plays Robin, one of the show’s primary characters. His question was unexpected: “What’s one thing you’re not going to miss from “Stranger Things?”  

Maya laughed and squirmed a bit in her chair and exclaimed “You give me the crappy question!” She then explained how difficult the question was because of all the gratitude she felt for the show and the people in it. Then she said, “The show takes a full year, so everything in my life was based around that year. When is that year going to start? How is it going to work? Those questions shape your career, your choices, where you live, and your family. I thought I wouldn’t miss that . . . but now that I don’t have it, I feel scared. [The show] ended up being a huge gravitational force that was positive . . . it was clarifying.”  

When she said the word “clarifying,” I nodded vigorously. She was talking about her show, but it resonated deeply with me. It reminded me of residency. 

I graduated from internal medicine residency earlier this year. Over the past few months, my life has changed significantly. I moved out of Philadelphia and into Baltimore. I’ve gone from full time clinical practice (and then some) to part-time clinical practice as an attending with a significant amount of work-from-home time in my medical education fellowship.  

Gone are the days of 28-hour call, chest compressions at 7 AM shift change, sprinting to rapid responses during rounds, skipping lunch repeatedly to write seven discharge summaries in an afternoon. I no longer have to set my vacation dates a year in advance. I can most likely be present at important life events, whenever they are. I work regular hours. I get my weekends back. I go to yoga! 

So why do I still miss those long nights in the MICU? 

Like Maya Hawke, I felt a gravitational force in the experience of residency. It pulled me in, whether I liked it or not, and oriented me. I woke up every day knowing where I was supposed to be, what I was supposed to do, who I was doing it for, and who I was doing it with.  

My coresidents.  

Among these smart, hardworking, funny, exhausted human people, I orbited our sun – patients, our hospital – day after day, night after night, bleary-eyed but with a clear purpose: do right by my patients and do right by my friends. One in the same task, really. It meant three years of on-call birthdays and death paperwork on Thanksgiving, but it also meant having a hand to hold as you jumped off the deep end. It meant finding that you’ve been tossed someone else’s own life vest before you realized you needed it. 

Now, no longer a resident, I’m outside of the gravitational field of the former patients and colleagues who inspired so much purpose. Like Maya, I find this scary. I miss the things I thought I was ready to leave behind. I’m forging forward on a new path, more free but slightly unanchored. Still, I let myself be pulled by everything I learned from a cohort that wanted me to thrive. They set a standard for diligence, mutual respect, and generosity that I encourage trainees to pay attention to in one another, especially during tough times. Hold onto those qualities when it’s time to move on, when it’s time to figure out what to do next. Let that grounding force pull you into its embrace. 

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This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.