35 years ago, I stood in a hospital hallway and made a decision that would define the rest of my professional life. I was halfway through my internship year in radiation oncology, a field of high-tech linear accelerators and clear-cut protocols, but my heart had drifted toward psychiatry. When I finally voiced my intent to switch, I didn’t find the collegial support we are taught to value in medical training. Instead, I walked into a gauntlet of ridicule.
“So, you think you’re going to be able to have any of the schizophrenics ever get better?” a urology resident yelled from across the hallway. Another chimed in with a tired trope, suggesting that perhaps I should see a psychiatrist rather than become one because my choice was a “crazy decision.” Even the mentors I respected joined the chorus of dissent. One attending, well aware of my medical school performance, pulled me aside to remind me that I was choosing a field below my grades. I could hear the same disappointment echoing from friends and family who simply could not fathom the idea.
Three and a half decades later, I am deeply happy with my choice. The usual criticisms of psychiatry, that it is an imprecise science, that we aren’t real doctors, or that the pay is lower, simply are not valid. Being a physician is fundamentally about nuance. It is about the delicate task of combining the hard science of medicine with its inherent art, approaching every patient with a genuine sense of empathy. It requires looking at human beings from many aspects and acknowledging that, at the end of the day, we don’t understand everything.
The ambiguity of this field is an asset rather than a distraction. While it certainly brings challenges, heartaches, and emotional burdens that require me to frequently cleanse that weight and recalibrate my relationships with others, the rewards far outweigh the costs. When I have the privilege of treating colleagues from other specialties, I am reminded that we are all facing the same human challenges. However, I often feel that I am perhaps a bit better equipped to see through those complex dimensions. I have learned to take pride in more than just correcting a number on a chart; I have learned the profound value of being present in the face of the unknown.
Farid Sabet-Sharghi is a psychiatrist.
