Becoming who I want to be.

It’s been about a year since I decided to start writing. The decision came after I finished reading a book by a fellow physician, Atul Gawande. Before his book Being Mortal, I had encountered other works written by physicians: Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl and When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi. I found it fascinating how I could relate to them despite differences in cultural backgrounds, ages, and experiences. Their language was familiar, and more importantly, what they wrote changed my life. They found a way to voice what I was feeling. They answered questions I had—and even those I hadn’t thought to ask. With each book, my admiration for the art of writing and its impact on people’s lives deepened. This admiration gave rise to a new desire: I wanted to write and, perhaps, change someone’s life too. It took some time to overcome procrastination and excuses, but I eventually wrote the first post for my blog, Notes from a Pediatrics Resident (now Notes from a Pediatrician). I don’t know the extent to which my writing will reach people or if what I have to say can change someone’s life, but the only way to find out is to write.

This project might seem like a call to grandiosity; it might appear self-centered. However, I firmly believe there is no better project in life than trying to become the best version of ourselves—someone we admire. The world is uncertain. Projects like marriage, parenthood, and businesses depend on external circumstances and other people, factors we cannot control. While I can’t control circumstances or people, I can control the journey of becoming who I want to be. Even if I never change someone’s life with my writing, I will die trying to do so. Perseverance and courage are virtues of the person I aspire to be.

My mother passed away when I was young, and as a pediatrician, I have had close encounters with death. As a result, I often reflect on my own mortality. The average human life spans about 4,000 weeks. I am 1,742 weeks old, almost halfway through. When I die, the world will continue as if nothing happened, and the memory of my existence may fade within a few generations. Grandiosity aside, the idea of writing and changing someone’s life eases my fear of dying and my existence being erased forever. If my words can withstand the passage of time, then, in some way, I will have achieved immortality.