As a resident in training, we work long, but protected hours at the hospital. The term “residency” comes from the concept of residing at the hospital. Essentially, it’s our second home during the three-plus years we spend in training. During this time, a heavy portion of our months are spent on the “floors.” These are the areas where acutely sick patients are admitted during their hospital stay.

Today was my last day as a resident on these inpatient floors and I’m actually at a loss for words to describe how I feel.

For the past 26 years, I have been in school. And, within months, residency will finally be over, and for the first time in my life I will enter the real working world without the protection of my seniors. Although I’m excited beyond belief that this change and time in my life is getting closer by the day, it’s also a very bittersweet realization.

Today brought me one step closer in the string of “lasts.” The end of residency is almost like the end of college. The friends you’ve made while going through this “hell” together will dissipate as they pursue further training (fellowships) or begin practicing medicine elsewhere. The bonds held together by the long hours and lack of sleep will be dissolved by distance and real responsibilities. No doubt these last few years were some of the hardest of my life, physically and emotionally. But surprisingly, if given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing: not my coworkers, not the hours, or even the work.

As I finished signing out my patients to the on-call team today, I made my final rounds on the floors and said goodbye to my patients, notifying them that a new resident would take over their care tomorrow. After caring for them night and day, you realize that these patients are like family: you protect them from harm, you fight for their life.

So I said goodbye to my hospital today – in a quiet way – because as a doctor, you may leave the building, but you never leave your patients.

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