Why professional societies are worth it

As someone who’s all too familiar with the ‘student loan life,’ there are few things I’d recommend as essential buys besides UWorld, ramen noodles, and Keurig cups. One that’s often overlooked by medical students, though, is membership in the professional society for your future specialty.

Cue the collective groan. I know, and I get it: why pay an annual subscription fee to join a club, add a line on your CV, and pay your respects to “the guild?” At first, I felt similarly skeptical. As a digital native, I was confident that I didn’t need my professional society. I had a blog. I had a Twitter account and LinkedIn profile. I could advocate for myself, and network for myself.

Since then, as I’ve furthered my interest in anesthesiology and advanced my involvement in the specialty, I’ve come to see the value that a $10 American Society of Anesthesiologists (ASA) student membership provides. Here, I’ve outlined a few of the high-yield benefits of the ASA Medical Student Component—and, I should add, even if you’re not a gas-passer in the making, these same benefits likely extend to the society for whichever specialty’s caught your heart.

Know what’s happening in the field, and where it’s headed. Through the ASA, I receive a complimentary print subscription to Anesthesiology, its peer-reviewed journal; the ASA Monitor, its monthly magazine; and ASAP, the weekly email newsletter. As an outsider looking in, these publications provide an introduction the ‘hot topics’ in anesthesia research and practice and an overview of educational content that’s likely to be useful on your anesthesia rotation (and not to mention, future training). Not all of it applies to learners, so feel free to gloss over the articles on practice management or billing code jargonology, but you’ll pick up enough to show attendings that you’ve done your homework, and to show interviewers that you know what you’re getting into.

Learn, do, and network at the Annual Meeting—for freeThe ASA and other specialty societies know that their students are their future, and they invest in our growth (and theirs!) by waiving students’ registration fees for the ANESTHESIOLOGY Annual Meeting. This conference is a ‘must-do’ for the future anesthesiologist, without question. It’s an opportunity to learn what’s new in anesthesia through presentations and panel discussions, practice procedures in hands-on skills workshops, and network with residency programs (and future employers!) And again, it’s all for free—which, right behind “go home” and “do you want to do this procedure?” are a medical student’s favorite words.

Support the people who are fighting for your future. In medical school, it’s sometimes easy to be complacent about advocacy, policy, and the landscape of physician practice; after all, life after residency seems so far away that we’re rarely looking beyond the next shelf exam. Even if you’re not looking ahead to the future, your professional society is. That’s why, in the last year, the ASA has been looking out for anesthesiologists and their patients and advocating for physician-led anesthesia care—and for evidence of that, look no further than the Safe VA Care initiative. And these are challenges facing every specialty: family medicine, internal medicine, pediatrics, psychiatry, radiology, you name it. Even if you view your membership as solely an investment in the safety of patients and the relevance of your future profession, it’s well worth it. And of course, if you want to go the extra mile, there are advocacy opportunities and leadership positions available.

When you think about what it costs to become a physician today—medical school tuition, supplies for clinical rotations, test prep resources, residency application and interview travel fees, and much more—a $10 annual membership to the American Society of Anesthesiologists (or your specialty’s professional society), with all it affords, is easily the right decision. If it does present a financial challenge for you, don’t worry; your medical school’s student affairs office, your school’s anesthesiology department, or your state’s anesthesiology society can likely lend a hand. Whatever the case, don’t overlook the chance to tap into this valuable resource and the education, professional development, and advocacy advantages that come with it.

Bottom line: prospective members, join the ASA, or your professional society, ASAp (#badpuns, I’ll admit). For current members: what additional benefits or perks have you gotten from your involvement in your professional societies? Leave a comment to weigh in!

Disclaimer: I am a medical student member of the American Society of Anesthesiologists and a member of the ASA Medical Student Component Governing Council. This blog post is not on behalf of the ASA, nor has it been authorized or supported by the ASA (or any other organization) in any capacity; it represents my views, and my own advice for my fellow future anesthesiologists, alone. [In short, I speak for myself, because I’m fairly certain nobody wants me to speak for them anyway!]

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When Breath Becomes Air

As I write this, I’m wiping away the tears in my eyes stirred by Dr. Paul Kalanithi’s When Breath Becomes Air. Richly reflective and powerfully evocative, it’s the touching narrative of a doctor’s attempts to confront death—as a student of literature, as a neurosurgeon, and as a patient—and, through the lens of terminal illness, examine how dying gives meaning to living.

With When Breath Becomes Air, Dr. Kalanithi allows us to, in his words, “Get into these shoes, walk a bit, and say, ‘So that’s what it looks like from here … sooner or later I’ll be back here in my own shoes.'” It’s a walk that resonates particularly strongly for me as a fledgling physician.

As he reflects on his medical training, Dr. Kalanithi looks back with the perspectives of both patient and provider to offer valuable insights on what it means to be a physician: someone who translates statistics and survival curves into a patient-oriented language of values, identities, and capabilities; someone who is relentless in the pursuit of operative excellence, but understands that a surgeon is more than an expert technician; someone who aspires to perfection, but ultimately accepts his fallibility.

For any avid reader of medical non-fiction, these reflections will sound familiar, the stuff of Better and Being Mortal. And yet, When Breath Becomes Air feels different, because it explores medicine’s virtues, values, and flaws from the perspective of a patient, someone who is both an insider and outsider to medicine. As Dr. Kalanithi writes, “As a doctor, you have a sense of what it’s like to be sick, but until you’ve gone through it yourself, you don’t really know.” His perspectives on what makes a good doctor are informed by an intimate understanding of what patients feel, what patients think, and what patients want that most of us, as providers, can only infer and intuit from our interactions with illness in the third person.

At its heart, When Breath Becomes Air is about more than how we ought to provide care; it’s a contemplation of how we ought to live. The life of a physician-in-training often feels like a life of anticipation, of potential, of surviving the present to reach the rewards of the future. We spend a third of our lives studying, sacrificing sleep, accumulating loans, and watching our friends build lives that are less exhaustive and more lucrative, all of which we accept for the eventual promise of a career that offers an unparalleled balance of intellectual engagement, moral fulfillment, and socioeconomic comfort.

I ask myself, then: if faced with a terminal illness tomorrow, would I feel that I’d achieved anything more in 23 years besides a pursuit of a life still yet to come? For Dr. Kalanithi, the prospect of dying gives the present an immensely deeper significance, a more imminent urgency. As I read his detailed recollection of his last day as a physician, a heartfelt recall of each interaction, each sensation, each incision, I felt uncomfortably reminded of what I’ve seen and done over the last week, and how it felt so unremarkably routine. I’d been present, but I hadn’t been truly present.

Reading When Breath Becomes Air, I felt called to attention, awoken from autopilot to embrace the quiet miracles and subtle wonders that transpire around us each day in the hospital. If we practiced medicine each day as if it were our last, what might that look like? What could it do for our connections with patients, for our interactions with our colleagues, for our thirst for meaning and fulfillment in our daily lives? This, I think, is Dr. Kalanithi’s strongest parting advice for us. And as cliche as “live as each day is the last” sounds, that we so rarely do it makes it advice worth hearing.

When Breath Becomes Air is an easy read that raises difficult questions, a short book that invites lengthy pauses for thought. Whether you’re in medicine or not, you’ll invariably someday find yourself pondering the matter of mortality and the meaning it imparts to the closing days of life—and therefore, you’ll invariably find this book to be both moving and meaningful.

Thanks, Dr. Kalanithi.