The Thousandth Day

My dearest pediatric residency,

I awoke this morning to a sky painted in soft shades of breaking dawn—a gentle reflection of the countless mornings that began just the same. As I lay in bed quietly, I reflect on the past three years. My heart feels incredibly heavy. My routine has remained the same. I have meditated and said my morning prayers—the steady drumbeat that keeps me grounded, even when the rhythm of residency falters.

As I pull on the familiar scrubs that have become my second skin, it strikes me—today marks my thousandth day as a pediatric resident. A journey that began with much uncertainty and trepidation has now reached its end. You, dear friend, have been both a storm and a sanctuary.

Walking into the hospital, I feel a mix of emotions—anticipation, nostalgia, and a flicker of disbelief. Has it really been a thousand days since I first walked through these doors, equal parts excited and afraid? You went by so fast. You bore witness to both my best and my breaking points. You have been a mirror and a compass—showing me who I was as a person and guiding me toward who I could be as a physician. Each corner holds memories, each patient room carries stories, and every familiar face is a testament to the bonds forged in the crucible of the pediatrics department.

As I step into the emergency department, I tear up, overcome by emotion, and quietly sneak into the break room to let it out. “Surprise, V! Congratulations! We know it’s your last day. We thought your last day deserved a little something special—just like you," Adanda beams, her eyes twinkling with kindness. As I collect myself, I walk into a farewell fête hosted by my dear friend and co-resident, Adanda, along with my mentor. The tears I’ve been holding back well up and come gushing down my cheeks. My work family’s embrace feels like home, and their thoughtfulness deeply touches me. We take photos to anchor the moment. We share laughter and stories. A warm camaraderie fills the room—a reminder of the friendships that have steadied me through this transformative journey. Each person and each story have left an indelible mark on my heart.

Adanda has been a dependable friend, someone I could confide in. She was an unwavering source of support, reminding me to eat during our long and busy shifts, and always ensuring I had a seat during our daily didactic sessions. I am so grateful for her warmth and friendship. Through the trials and triumphs of residency, I learned the profound value of a steadfast companion to help navigate the grueling, yet transformative, journey.

And then there was Mr. Rodriguez, one of our janitors, whose wisdom had been a guiding light throughout my residency. His famous homemade empanadas brightened long shifts, and his unwavering kindness to patients and staff alike reminded me always to lead with compassion. His words, "It's not just about fixing what's broken. It's about making people feel seen and heard," deeply resonated with me and influenced my approach to medicine.

Later, in a rare quiet moment, I reflect on this grueling and yet rewarding thousand-day journey. I recall my first days as an intern, overwhelmed by the enormity of the tasks ahead.

I often felt unsure, anxious, and out of depth. The sleepless nights, the moments of doubt, the long commutes, countless coffee runs, moments of laughter, tears behind closed doors, failures, new friendships, and exhausting 12-hour shifts of a six-day work week—all served a purpose in molding me into who I am today. With the guidance of mentors and the support of my teachers, I found my footing. I learned to trust my instincts, balance empathy with efficiency, prioritize my wellness, and find strength in vulnerability. You have tested my limits, reshaping my understanding of what it means to be a physician.

After the celebrations, I return to the comforting and familiar rhythm of patient care. I think of the countless patients who have left indelible imprints on my soul—each a reminder of why I chose this path, and of the breadth of knowledge and skills I have acquired with them. They taught me lessons in humility and humanity that no textbook could ever teach.

There was the spirited toddler with a broken arm, whose resilience echoed the indomitable spirit of children. A teenager grappling with anxiety, whose vulnerability highlighted the importance of seeing beyond symptoms to understand the person behind the patient. The boisterous ten-year-old boy with leukemia, whose laughter in the face of adversity taught me about the power of hope. The young boy with Kawasaki disease, with whom I spent multiple afternoons counseling his parents on the course of the illness. Each of these encounters was a chapter in the story of my residency—stories filled with lessons in medicine and humanity, helping me recognize that healing often transcends mere curing.

With my last patient settled and my notes complete, I walk out of my final shift, signing off as a pediatric resident. The cool night air is refreshing, a stark contrast to the warmth and intensity of the hospital behind me. I pause and look back at the building that had been my school, my battlefield, and my second home. Residency has changed me in ways I hadn't anticipated. You taught me about medicine, but more importantly, you taught me about life and human connection.

As I walk home, I envision the road ahead. I am no longer the uncertain intern from three years ago. I have become more resilient, empathetic, and prepared to embrace the challenges and triumphs to come. The journey of a thousand days has ended, but a new one begins. I will carry your lessons with me—forever changed, and forever grateful.

And so, with a heart full of hope and a mind brimming with dreams, I step into the next chapter of my life—becoming a pediatric emergency medicine fellow, ready to make a difference, one patient at a time.

Sincerely yours,

Victor N. Oboli, MD