To The New Intern

Disclaimer: The views & opinions expressed in this post are my own (which are not directed at any specific entity/party) and do not reflect the views/opinions of any affiliates or employers.

When I think of intern year, one word comes to mind: scary. Intern year was scary. Because no longer are there the many protective layers of authority that were there when one was a medical student. Now you are in charge. In charge of making sure that nearly everything was completed, such as writing notes, talking to families, responding to nurses, talking with consultants, and reacting rapidly to changes in the patient’s clinical status. It was a lot. And not only that, you are being evaluated on how you are performing. Is this person ready to progress to senior year?

I did not think I would make it to the end of intern year. When I was in the ICU, I received poor evaluations, most of which focused on how I looked overwhelmed and scared. That I was not responding appropriately to critically ill patients. Because of that, I was placed in more intensive rotations, such as the progressive care unit (a rotation specifically designed for second-year residents), and then made to repeat the ICU once more.

I felt like I could not do anything right. No matter what I did, I felt like I was scrutinized and judged. I felt terrible about myself. I honestly wanted to quit.

When I came home one day, I kept repeating out loud, “I need to quit,” multiple times. It was my 5th month of intern year and I could not even imagine continuing to do more months. My youngest sister heard me and calmed me down. “Naoumou”, she said. “You cannot quit. You went through the MCAT, and then medical school, and then matching, and all of those trials and tribulations along the way. You have so many people looking up to you. I always tell my friends how my oldest sister is a doctor, and they are so proud of you. Keep going.”

I felt like God Himself inspired my sister to tell that to me. Because there was no way at the age of 14, I would have been able to say that to a resident doctor. I nearly let out a sob after she said that and gave her a big hug, promising myself I would keep going no matter what.

My younger brother also told me, “Naoumou, you are a Black Muslim woman in medicine. Your confidence level needs to be at 150%. Because the world is going to try to take away 50%. So when that happens, at least you will be left with 100%.”

Intern year was hard. But my relationship with Allah (swt) got stronger. I would sometimes lay my forehead on my prayer mat and just cry, asking Him to make things easy for me.

There were days when my brain felt like mush, my spirits were low, and I was not getting adequate nutrition. There were days when I would see the most traumatic things, including people dying right before my eyes, some who were close to my age. Those days felt like a battle.

However, I also experienced great joy during my intern year. The times I enjoyed the most were in clinic. I genuinely love being in clinic. I appreciate the connections and bonds I create with my patients and their families. I feel that I have time to get to know them more, and I look forward to seeing them every so often.

Slowly but surely, I started becoming stronger and more confident. I could admit a patient with ease and present them without feeling overwhelmed. I knew exactly what they needed for the problems they presented with. I felt comfortable being on my own. I was even able to lead my own ERT (emergency response team).

But then I had to return to the ICU, the place that really made me question myself to begin with. The fear that I thought I had packed away so perfectly returned again. The sensation of feeling overwhelmed returned. I started having performance anxiety.

And unfortunately, it showed. I again received feedback that I was not confident and that there were concerns about my progress. I felt that all the effort I put in was being wasted once again.

But I was not giving up. I stayed up late, studying ICU ventilator settings and sedations. I stayed behind to admit patients. I kept asking to perform as many procedures as I could.

And then I found my strength. Talking with families. Making them feel comfortable as they witness their loved ones in their worst state of health. Being there for them at their lows. Trying to make them feel seen and heard. I realized that I did not have to change and mold myself into what an ideal resident should be, but to be myself and apply my strengths in every medical setting I entered.

Today is my first day of second year. As I look back on my intern year, I am filled with extreme pride. I am proud of myself for continuing to go forward even when I did not want to. I am proud of myself for allowing myself to grow and learn as much as I can. And I am proud of myself for not letting people’s assumptions about me deter me from my path to becoming a physician. I truly thank Allah swt for seeing me through and I know that it is by His will that I will be able to continue and finish residency on time, Ameen. 🤲🏾

To the new interns, be steadfast. You are supposed to be here. There might be people who will make you feel as if you do not, especially if you come from a minority background, but you do. You have worked hard to get to this point. You were brought here for a divine purpose. Learn, grow from feedback, and do the best that you possibly can, even if you feel as if you are never enough. Because you are.

Congratulations on finally becoming a doctor. I am humbled to call you my colleague. Godspeed and go conquer intern year!