13 hours, 15 minutes from now my graduation ceremony will begin. It’ll be virtual. Streamed on my TV with myself in full graduation regalia (but likely jeans underneath because that’s just who I am) in the living room of my parents. This evening, I finished another book in my social distancing reading marathon: Bruce Springsteen’s memoir, Born to Run.
That shouldn’t be much of a surprise coming from a Jersey girl. His songs were the soundtrack to my adolescence when I didn’t fully understand them but appreciated their absolute power of rock and roll. They’re the songs I can distinctly remember hearing anew at some point in my early 20s, revealing a depth of experiences I recognized as my own, my family’s in many ways.
The people where I’m from are made of strong stuff. It’s a quality not easily described, yet you can feel it in the music of artists like The Boss. That’s been even more apparent in this moment of crisis and pandemic in my home state and my future state. Jersey Strong. New York Tough.
It’s led me to reflect on a few things this evening but most of all on Dr. Fauci. On the eve of my official beginning as a physician, I’m sitting with my feelings about the weight that will soon come to rest on my shoulders. I’ve talked before about how this is an interesting time to be entering medicine and residency. Yet, as I’ve watched Dr. Fauci like many of you have these last few weeks, his steadfast direction has been calming, direct, and explanative in a frank and honest manner. One reason is he’s “Tony Fauci from Brooklyn” which is truly one of the most illuminating and revealing ways to describe him to your Jersey family. The other is he’s been continually studying as a captain for decades now.
At its heart, medicine continues to be rooted in apprenticeship. The textbooks and hard science teach you plenty and fill your brain with raw data and information you can apply. The application of that information is a different skill set altogether. I can read about how to sail a ship- learn the difference between port and starboard, when it’s best to raise the sails, how to use the sky or your boat’s instruments to navigate through the waters. That doesn’t mean I’m fully prepared to set off into the Atlantic.
Throughout training, we’ve had our captains- physicians we identify as mentors- compassionate and knowledgeable about piloting a ship. It’s not an easy task; as the captain, you’re the stopgap to ensuring the ship stays on course, navigating alongside your patient and their family, communicating with your crew of nurses, techs, therapists and the myriad of roles needed to make a healthcare system function. We’ve watched as the best captains guide a patient’s destination without controlling it, listen intently when their highly skilled crew presents a concern, and bear the weight of the responsibility in giving orders and steering the ship.
In the ultimate team sport of healthcare, the captain realizes they are not above the crowd, but shoulders the identity of listener, guide, encourager, and leader all in one. It’s a role that defines a person; our sports teams announce them on their uniforms before they even take the field.
It doesn’t feel too different from how I grew up. Growing up to me seemed a bit like an apprenticeship. Learning to forge your own path against the backdrop of the lessons learned from your parents who learned from their parents. There’s something in the soil of one’s hometown that lets you plant the roots needed to nourish your growth in the direction of the sun. I have a strong suspicion it’s the people and the stock one’s made of, and that’s not always evident until you venture out away from it. Because the first time I truly realized how much I’d learned on that soil, how deep and fully my roots had nourished me, wasn’t until I first sailed off the shore at 18 years old.
Less than 4 hours to graduation now. Not to fret, I slept solidly between these paragraphs. The lessons of my high school English teachers to “let what you’ve written rest for a night” echoing in my head as I nodded off. This morning, with the inspiration of coffee, I’ve reached the stopgap in my trains of thought sparked by finishing the story of The Boss.
From this moment of my life on, I will be a doctor.
It will be as integral to my identity as being a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girl from somewhere in the swamps of Central Jersey who 11 years ago stepped off the stage at her public high school graduation and went to take on the world. The M.D. doesn’t go away. That qualification, that achievement, that commitment to the health of your neighbors influences who you become as a person, in the same way that the hard work and dedication of your grandparents in blue collar jobs and parents in civil servant jobs instill something indefinable into your character.
Under the mentorship of those who have come before me, guided by my professor-physicians as I started to hone my craft, with the elements of my core forged in the blood, sweat, and tears of my ancestors, a shot at the captainship has come to me. I’m still new at this, there’s lots to learn. Thankfully, the other captains stick around, ensuring you continue to read the stars correctly in guiding the navigation and be your sounding board in how to approach that next incoming tide.
So, Dr. Kelvy, the ship is yours…ready for the next adventure?
Go Dr. Kelvy!
To see you reach this moment is wonderful. Admiring how you never gave up and always found the strength to move forward. To your future patients , you are lucky to have this caring and loving doctor. Congratulations with much love!