How To Keep Joy Alive In Medicine

"How do you keep joy alive in medicine when the hours are long and the pressure is high?"

When you start medical school, no one tells you how heavy the day-to-day can feel. Sure, you know there will be exams, call shifts, and tough patients. But it’s the quiet grind that sneaks up on you. It’s the endless notes, the pre-dawn alarms, and the feeling that life is happening somewhere else while you’re just trying to keep up.

That’s why I’ve made it my mission to protect joy, and not just wait for it. Medicine asks for so much of you that if you don’t carve out space for things that make you feel alive, they’ll disappear. And when they disappear, so does a little piece of you.

For me, joy shows up in small, intentional moments. I keep a playlist called “hospital hype” that I blast while I get ready for long IM days. I keep snacks in my bag that I can share with classmates or nurses, because sometimes a granola bar is the best love language. I text my family group chat at least once a day with something funny from the hospital, even if it’s just, “the printer jammed again.” Those moments remind me I’m not just a cog in a system; I’m a person who still laughs, dances, and eats Sour Patch Kids in the call room.

Joy also comes from remembering why we’re here. Some of my favorite memories in training are the ones where I let myself celebrate with a patient--the teenager who cleared her acne and took selfies nonstop at her follow-up, the older gentleman who finished chemo and walked out to applause from the staff. When you pause long enough to actually share those victories, they fuel you more than caffeine ever could.

I’ve also learned that joy doesn’t have to mean perfection. A lot of us think, “Once I get through this exam… once I’m done with this year… once I match…” then I’ll be happy. But the milestones keep moving. If you’re always chasing the next one, you never really arrive. So instead of waiting for joy to find me, I try to create it where I am. Whether that means treating myself to overpriced coffee after rounds or taking five minutes to watch the sunrise before walking into the hospital.

The truth is that medicine will always demand more of you than you think you can give. But joy is the thing that makes the giving sustainable. It’s what transforms long hours into meaningful ones, what turns coworkers into friends, what keeps you human in a system that can sometimes forget you’re human.

So, here’s my advice: don’t wait until the weekend, or graduation, or retirement to find joy. Choose it now, in the messy middle. Protect it the way you protect your patients. Nurture it like it’s a vital sign.

And when you do, you’ll realize that joy isn’t just what keeps you going in medicine. It’s what makes the journey worth it.