Medical Student Speech

Kevin Desrosiers '07

So last night as I sort of pre-read my speech several times, with my wife sleeping next to me sort of the in wee hours of the morning, I actually thought that it was pretty good. But then Dr. Carson spoke and now I'm really not so sure, but I'll be happy to read it for you anyway.

Dr. Spielberg, Dr. Carson, honorable Deans, Faculty, families, and my friends, the DMS Class of 2007, it is an honor to have been selected to speak today at our graduation.

Today we celebrate the end of our transition from being medical students to being doctors. We entered these halls four years ago from many different backgrounds. Some were researchers, professional hockey players, Little League World Series champions, businesspeople, investment bankers, among a host of others.

And yet today, we gather as a group, having achieved our common goal. And that certainly is something to celebrate. It is easy for us to overlook the significance of this accomplishment, because everyone who has always been around us has also graduated from medical school. This includes the residents, the attendings, the advisors, and in some cases, even our parents. But we cannot let that overshadow what we have accomplished. Though our paths at this point will diverge slightly, as we have chosen to pursue different areas of medicine, all of us, through hard work, selflessness, and dedication, have achieved the honor of the degree of Medical Doctor.

But that is not all we have achieved. Throughout the course of medical school, our lives have been continually changing, and we have earned other new titles as well. Personally, among others, I have achieved the title of marathoner, three hours forty-seven minutes in Burlington this year with Lou Brest, as well as skier, godparent, and my personal favorite, "significantly indebted." Others of us have added titles of husband, wife, mother, father

[some wording lost—tape switched sides]

It has been more that just about earning a degree. It has been a significant part of our mid-twenties, or in some cases--John Huntington--mid-thirties. Let's take Dartmouth with us when we leave here. It is important to move on, but never to move past. Much of what we have learned and experienced here will shape our decisions in the years to come, both personally as well as professionally.

As we celebrate today we do so with some trepidation, as we know that the path just days ahead is one that is filled with long hours, hard work, difficult decisions, and a signature that now makes our orders valid. In the backs of our minds is the anticipation of the being called "the intern"--only "the intern," as well as the saddle of difficult work that will be placed on our backs. Indeed there will be sleepless nights inside the hospitawhile taking care of patients, as well as sleepless nights outside the hospital, wondering if we made the right decision, signed all the orders, and wrote all the notes.

The good news, my friends, is that today is not that day. Today we are still free to celebrate, and celebrate we should. Not only the accomplishments that we have achieved personally, but how our work has impacted the patients that we have already cared for, and how they have impacted us. How they, through their stories and experiences, with illness as well as health, have forever changed the way that we will view the world.

So I encourage us all to remember this day, and all the days that have lead up to this day, when we are tired and in despair. Let us remember and emulate our favorite residents, and the inspiration they provided, the way they remained positive and patient-focused, despite the often chaotic landscape of modern day medicine. Sometimes the chaos and rigorous demands of medical school can cause us to lose sight of why we decided to become doctors in the first place. In preparation for my remarks today, I looked over my medical school application, and re-read my essay, and re-discovered my reasoning at that time. Today, while some of the specifics have changed, the ideal of helping other people cope with illness, while also satisfying my own needs, has not changed. And I encourage each of you to go through this exercise in this time of reflection and celebration.

Having said all that, I do wish to implore the Deans to consider refunding some of our tuition money for things that they failed to teach us during medical school. I knew there were a handful of items that I was sure would be taught during medical school, but alas, I was disappointed. For example, why do we get that terrible headache when we eat ice cream too quickly? Despite a neurology rotation, I still never learned that. And despite the popularity of the book series, is chicken soup actually beneficial to the soul? How come I can't move my little toe independently of all the others? Have you ever tried that? You actually can't. And when we were learning about the five senses, why didn't we learn about the sense of humor? And why is it that some of the professors seem to lack that sense? But perhaps most importantly of all, why is tuition so expensive? How am I supposed to pay back all these loans?

Perhaps these are areas that we can collectively address as we move forward in our careers, with the intent of helping generations of students to come. Alternatively, after most of the thankless tasks that have come up over past four years, we could just ask Jamie to do it.

In conclusion, I would like to say that I feel so lucky to be part of the Class of 2007. I have made some life-long friendships here, and I have shared new experiences with many of you. I really sincerely hope that we are able to keep in touch as time passes, for this truly has been a critical time in our lives, one that we will treasure forever.

Thank you.

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