Takeaway
Providing excellent patient care requires being in the liminal space between scientific certainty and human ambiguity. This is a place from which to bear witness to suffering with both intellectual curiosity and deep empathy.
Passion in the Medical Profession | April 3, 2025 | 3 min read
By Eve Glenn, ScB, medical student, Johns Hopkins Medicine
Many late evenings, I find solace in my medical school’s computer lab. The soft glow of my Macintosh screen creates a peaceful retreat in the dark room, letting me glimpse the brightly lit student atrium. Each unopened Safari tab holds new knowledge waiting to be discovered, enriching my understanding of medicine while serving as a gateway to the balance between research and patient care. I delve into a literature review on compartment syndrome in tibial plateau injuries, navigating the anatomy of the tibia and trauma implications. This journey bridges theoretical knowledge with patient realities. My pursuit of knowledge often conflicts with my wish for a world without injury, where patients don’t have to endure the challenges that I study. This duality weighs heavily on me, especially when unexpected post-surgical outcomes delay healing for the vulnerable.
A text from M interrupts my reflection. “How’s your leg?” I replied.
“A bit better. Walking. Love you.”
A simple exchange, yet it holds within it an entire narrative of resilience, uncertainty, and hope. The injury, a consequence of an unassuming moment—a playful dog, a misstep—has thrust them into a new reality where autonomy is no longer assumed but fought for. I recall my studies on Staphylococcus epidermidis, a ubiquitous bacterium whose presence on the skin transforms into an adversary in the sterile world of surgery. But in this moment, I don’t see just a pathogen; I see its impact on M—the way it shapes fears, disrupts ambitions, forces them into a space of dependence and vulnerability. Medicine is not merely the science of curing disease; it is the art of understanding the lived experience of illness, the negotiation of uncertainty, the emotional toll of recovery.
On my drive home, I celebrate M’s resilience as they share progress in physical therapy. Our conversation reinforces a vital lesson: medical school is not just knowledge plus clinical reasoning plus professionalism. There’s an additional “x” that represents the ability to stand in the liminal space between scientific certainty and human ambiguity, to bear witness to suffering with both intellectual curiosity and deep empathy. Foundational studies and technical proficiency alone aren’t sufficient; they must be interwoven with a conscious effort to cultivate trust, to honor the weight of each patient’s story, to see beyond the diagnostic codes and into the person who carries them.
As I near the end of my preclinical training, I reflect on M and the lessons I hope to carry to the wards. I hope to integrate the technical expertise I’ve honed with an intentional presence—one that acknowledges the fears, aspirations, and humanity that exist beyond the confines of a patient chart. But this isn’t just my journey—it’s ours. As future and current physicians, we all have the privilege and responsibility to balance medical expertise with human connection. In every encounter, we can reaffirm dignity, foster trust, and remind patients that they’re seen not as conditions to be managed, but as whole individuals, with stories of complexity, struggle, and resilience.
Medicine isn’t merely about healing the body; it’s about accompanying people in the intricate, often unpredictable process of recovery. It’s about holding space for both science and soul, balancing the certainty of physiology with the uncertainty of human experience. And it’s in this balance, this convergence of knowledge and compassion, that I hope we can all find our purpose as future and current healthcare professionals.
This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.