In medical training, there are moments when the question quietly shows up. It might be during a night shift, after a long stretch without sleep, or while catching up on charting. The thought is simple, but heavy: What if I had chosen something else? What if I had gone into engineering, or business, or any path that didn’t ask quite so much?
This reflection started as an assignment for a medical humanities course, based on Tobias Wolff’s short story “Bullet in the Brain.” That story made me think about how easy it is to become numb to the things that once inspired us, and how important it is to stay connected to why we chose medicine in the first place.
What follows is a fictional version of my life where I never started medical school. It’s imagined, but it’s also honest. I wrote it for anyone who has ever wondered what might have been and what really matters now. Whether you are a premed, a student, a resident, or already deep into your career, I hope this helps you reflect on your own path.
The other life
It’s 7:42 p.m. and I’m still at the office, staring at a code error that won’t go away. The rest of the team has already gone home, and I’m eating cold Pad Thai at my desk while the test server runs in the background. We’ve got a product rollout next week, and the pressure to make everything run faster has turned the last few days into a blur.
In this version of my life, I’m an engineer. I finished school on time, took a job at a software firm in Tempe, and I make decent money. I have my weekends to myself. My apartment is clean and quiet. Most nights I get enough sleep and never have to think about anatomy, pathophysiology, or charting.
Sometimes I think I chose this path because it felt safer. I liked problem solving, I was good at math, and the idea of a steady, low-stress job sounded appealing. But every once in a while, I feel something is missing.
Tonight, it’s a voice message from my sister. Her friend’s daughter had a seizure, and the doctors weren’t giving clear answers. She says, “I know you didn’t go into medicine, but you would’ve made a great doctor.” I listen to it twice. I don’t text her back.
I used to wonder who I’d be if I hadn’t started medical school. Now I know. I’d be fine. Maybe even successful. But I think I’d be missing something important.
When I was in clinicals, even on the hardest days, I felt like I was part of something meaningful. I was exhausted and overwhelmed a lot of the time, but I also felt awake. Medicine forced me to show up fully, not just with my brain, but with my heart too.
In this other life, I think I’ve learned how to protect myself better. But maybe I’ve also learned how to feel less.
Hunter Delmoe is an osteopathic medical student.
