17 minute read
Many Roads, One Purpose
Five alumni share their long and rewarding journeys to healthcare.
by Becky St. Clair, ’05
Five alumni share their long and rewarding journeys to healthcare.
One Many Roads,
One Purpose Roads,
If you Google “how to become a doctor,” the list of steps is short: Get a bachelor’s degree, take the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT), finish medical school, choose a residency program, pass the boards, and become licensed to practice in your state. Then bam! You’re a doctor!
In reality, the journey to a career in medicine is long and arduous, involving many hours, years, and dollars. And it’s not always a straight line, either: According to the American Medical Association, only one in four medical school graduates end up in the same speciality they selected the summer before starting med school. At the undergraduate level, national statistics point to an average of 30% of students changing majors at least once before graduating. And not every medical professional comes into the field the same way, as these five Walla Walla University alumni can attest.
Laying a Strong Foundation
Gina Jervey Mohr (’92) took a less traveled path. Now the division chief of palliative medicine at Loma Linda University Health in California, she was an English major at WWU, considering Ph.D. studies and a career teaching in higher education. She was also thinking about medicine. “I knew I wanted to be in a helping profession,” she explains. Ultimately, she chose medicine. “It seemed so much easier than having to do all that writing,” Mohr says with a smile.
It was English professor Susan Gardner who assured Mohr that studying humanities would not only make her a better doctor, but a better person. And she was right. Being one of the few English majors in the pre-med program gave her an appreciation for people’s stories. An A student in high school, Mohr registered for both general chemistry and calculus the first quarter of her freshman year, and it nearly knocked her off-course. “I’m not a science person, or even a math person, and I almost failed them both,” Mohr says.
I was seriously concerned I wasn’t cut out for college.
To be fair, the prerequisites for entrance into medical school are challenging, with many undergraduate courses serving as effective milestone markers for determining who makes it and who doesn’t. It’s imperative, then, to figure out how to study and be successful in these milestone classes, because if you can survive the pre-med program, some say med school won’t feel quite so insurmountable.
“Scott Ligman’s histology and Jim Nestler’s cell biology classes were both harder than the ones I had to take in med school,” says Kevin Schultz (’05), an OB-GYN in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Though content understandably goes beyond what is taught in undergrad-level courses, Schultz says the challenge of his classes at WWU gave him a strong foundation for med school. “I felt like my feet were firmly planted, and I had a great springboard as I began to apply what I’d learned there to the physiology of the body.
"I didn’t struggle through as many of my med school courses as I could have because of how well WWU prepared me.”
Getting from one (undergrad) to the other (med school), however, isn’t quite as easy as it sounds. Between them sprawls the Grand Canyon of the path to medicine: the MCAT (Medical College Admission Test).
“I completed the MCAT prep course and was doing pretty well on the practice tests,” Schultz recalls, “so I was feeling pretty good.” But when he took the MCAT, he scored worse than he ever had in practice. “Although I had felt called to medicine, it was difficult to see where God was guiding at that point. It was hard to see the path forward.”
Schultz felt this particular time of uncertainty and self-doubt was foundational in learning to trust God throughout his med school career, and even to his current practice.
God was teaching me to trust him fully, especially when things look impossible,
he says. “I’ve seen his hand working time and time again over the years.”
With encouragement from Ligman to continue to work toward the goal of med school despite his MCAT scores, Schultz kept hope alive. Later that spring, he was surprised by a phone call from none other than Loma Linda University School of Medicine. He was in.
Mohr, too, pushed onward at the urging of her professors and mentors—Gardner, her work supervisor, Walt Meske, and Ken Wiggins, her calculus professor. “They supported me consistently and unwaveringly, so I stuck with it, applying different strategies for tackling advanced sciences and maths,” she recalls.
Learning with Confidence
Perhaps one of the greatest hurdles to tackle upon arrival to medical school is individual expectations. We all know it’s challenging, but what exactly does med school look like?
“I really had no idea what incredible experiences I would take part in,” says Kayla Nash Jensen (’20), who is currently a veterinary intern at Bend Equine Center in Oregon. When she arrived at UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine, Jensen quickly found ways to involve herself in activities beyond the classroom and clinical work, thanks in large part to her internships and research experience at WWU. One of those activities was the student vet emergency response team.
As a native of Paradise, California, Jensen knew the challenges large-animal owners would face in the event of a natural disaster, such as wildfire. The student group helped local horse-owners with disaster preparedness, assisted at evacuation shelters, and trained for search and rescue situations. She was even able to participate in search and rescue operations during the Paradise Fire.
“Counties don’t always think about where to house animals in the event of an evacuation or natural disaster,” Jensen says. “And sometimes, even if they have, things don’t go as planned.” For example, during the Paradise Fire, the original large-animal evacuation location went up in flames and they had no contingency plan for that scenario. “In particular we aimed to serve underserved and low-income counties which don’t have resources to make these plans on their own.”
By her third year, Jensen was president of the student response team.
It was so rewarding, and a great way to give back to the communities that lost a lot,
she says. “I even got to practice helicopter lifts with fake model horses, riding at the end of a cord hanging from a helicopter. It may seem extreme, but sometimes there are rescue situations where there’s no other way to get a horse out of a potentially deadly situation, and we have to know how to do it safely.”
Ethan Osias (’17), currently in his second year of ophthalmology residency at UCLA, says med school wasn’t what he was expecting, either—and in a surprising way. “I was actually really surprised by how much free time I had,” he admits. “At WWU I was busy all the time; my schedule was packed from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. most days. Obviously I soon discovered that studying during that free time was useful, but I was so accustomed to having strict time management to juggle my responsibilities and maintain good grades at WWU, that by the time I got to med school I was able to integrate into a study schedule that brought the success I was looking for.”
Osias also says WWU taught him to look beyond the “should do” activities. While at WWU, Osias worked at Rogers Elementary, the cafeteria, and the gym, developing friendships he still maintains today. He was also on the basketball team. Though all of this kept him busy, he relished it because it brought him joy.
“When I got to med school, there were all these super high-achievers around me doing different things, and it was so easy to fall into the trap of looking over my neighbor’s shoulder to see what they were doing and assume I should be doing that, too,” Osias says. “Instead I followed the pattern I’d developed at WWU: focusing on what I wanted to do, while still being able to fulfill my other obligations.”
Osias took on research projects that interested him, and joined the Student National Medical Association, a society for Black medical students. He was also part of a global health project in Peru, strengthening his Spanish proficiency and working on a project that appealed to him.
“I know I have to check some boxes, but once that’s done, I follow my interests,” Osias explains. “That all started at WWU, when I learned to resist doing things just because everyone else was doing them, and to follow the path that was right for me.”
As with much of life, when you follow your personal path in med school, sometimes you end up in places you didn’t expect.
When Mohr applied for residency she chose to specialize in family medicine. The areas which really spoke to her were those focused on ethics. Inspired by Robert Orr, her mentor in family medicine and founder of the ethics consultation service at LLUH, Mohr began exploring palliative care, a specialized area of medicine focused on quality of life for patients with serious—and often terminal—illnesses.
“As I went through my family medicine residency, I became quite disillusioned about how we treat people who are sick, particularly those at the end of life,” Mohr explains. “Pain and other symptoms were often overlooked in the relentless pursuit to find the next cure, which didn't exist. I knew there had to be a better way.”
In 2001, Mohr and Orr started a palliative care program at LLUH. Palliative Medicine was only officially recognized by the American Board of Medical Specialties in 2009. “It’s a young speciality, but it goes back to our roots in medicine,” Mohr says, adding that hundreds of years ago—before antibiotics and anesthetics—the medical profession, as it were, was largely about comforting and caring for people.
Practicing with Compassion
While Mohr never imagined she’d end up in leadership, she now serves as division chief of Palliative Medicine and program director of the Palliative Medicine fellowship LLUH. Administration may not be what doctors enter their field for, but some are exceedingly built for it, whether or not they intended to become administrators.
“I got pushed into it,” admits Richard Hart (’66), president of Loma Linda University Health. “The truth is, I enjoy strategy and thinking things through two to three steps ahead of time. But I never saw myself as a leader.” And if it wasn’t for WWU, he may not be the leader he is today.
When Hart attended WWU, student leadership was determined by committees comprised of faculty and staff, and nominated students were invited to fill offices. This was how Hart found himself serving as junior class president and Missionary Volunteer leader, among other roles.
“I was shy and would never have self-nominated and campaigned like they do now,” Hart says.
To have a professor tap me on the shoulder and ask me to fill a needed position was good for me. It gave me confidence and opportunities to learn skills I still use today.
After serving as a medical missionary in Peru— the first student missionary from WWU to leave North America—Hart returned to campus and was quickly asked to run the student campaign to raise funds for a new pool.
“That was the first fundraising activity I was ever involved in, and I’m still doing it,” he says with a chuckle. "Selling a project, convincing donors it’s worth investing in—my fundraising education began at WWU."
Since then, Hart has been involved in multiple multimillion-dollar projects.
Because he enjoys seeing patients, Hart still commits to a half-day each week of clinical work— hours he considers “kicking back” from the rigor of administrative politics and decision-making.
While doctors seem to operate on schedules— clinic hours, scheduled surgery, rotating on-call weekends, administrative meetings, conferences— very little is predictable or, ironically, prescriptive, about practicing medicine.
“Nature never reads the textbooks,” Jensen says. And for her, the added complication to her work is that her equine patients can’t talk to her. “We have to do a lot of investigative work and be super observant about lots of different things,” she says. “There are a lot of extra things we have to do because horses can’t tell us where it hurts or how they feel.”
Then there’s the challenge of the limited number of drugs and equipment in existence for the treatment of horses—which is why most don’t survive a broken bone: they’re just too big for any hardware in existence to hold the bones together enough to heal. For Jensen, every case is a mystery and she’s the detective.
All that problem-solving and creative thinking keeps me in it,
Jensen says. “The reward of helping an animal feel better is incredibly satisfying and I love it. It’s why I went into veterinary medicine in the first place.”
Schultz, too, says he works in a uniquely “happy” area of medicine, with a very different focus from most.
“All of medicine is rewarding in its own way, but in obstetrics you get to see the start of life,” he explains. “You’re bringing life into the world, rather than stopping someone from leaving it, and that’s truly special.”
But what about those heartbreaking moments when you realize the patient won’t get better? When the only step forward is comfort and compassion, not a cure?
“If you have, say, advanced metastatic cancer, there is no fix for that,” Mohr says. “There may be treatments to help you live longer, but it may not be the cure your patient and family are expecting, or that you’re hoping for. Having the ability to impact people’s experience in what is arguably the most difficult time of their life is incredibly rewarding to me.”
Mohr adds that the focus of her work is not on dying. “It’s about living well even when you’re very, very ill,” she says. “It’s about people’s stories and how they want to be remembered, doing legacy projects with them, and walking alongside them through this incredibly difficult time in their life.”
Regardless of which area of medicine you practice, there will always be an element of compassion required to do the job well. Whether it’s in the form of sitting longer with a patient to help them understand their diagnosis, traveling to Ethiopia to support a rural hospital with few resources, praying with a patient, advocating for a patient who can’t speak for themselves, or even letting them see you cry, too, compassion is crucial to all areas of medical care.
“Patients like to see our emotions because it reveals our humanity,” Schultz says.
The times I’ve gotten choked up or teared up with a patient are the times my patients felt most comfortable, because they knew someone was hurting with them. They know we really care.
Schultz admits, though, that sometimes it’s easy to become numb to what your patients are experiencing, because you see it so much. “It’s hard to emotionally feel every single event.”
Which is why, Mohr says, one of the most important things she teaches her palliative care fellows is the difference between compassion and empathy.
“Empathy is feeling with others, and if all you do is feel others’ pain and sorrow, that’s a good recipe for burnout and discouragement,” she explains. “Compassion says, ‘Look at this human being before me that is in pain—physical, emotional, social, or spiritual. How can I help them with that?’”
Jensen says this is an aspect of medicine she very much enjoys, as she practices compassion in advocating for her patients and extending it to the owners.
“People who own horses have a special bond with their animal that goes beyond the typical pet-owner relationship,” Jensen says. “Horses live to be up to 25 years old, and they’re often partners in various parts of the owner’s life, and that’s very hard for people to let go of. Having compassion in those situations is a very integral way we as medical professionals get to shine.”
While many assume death is the worst outcome, Mohr argues that actually the worst possible outcome is a loved one dying badly.
“When a loved one is in a lot of pain, the family feels hopeless and helpless,” Mohr comments. “Often hospital rules and restrictions—such as age limits on visitors to the ICU, for example—make dying harder than it has to be. If there’s something I can do to change that, I will. I find that really rewarding.”
The path to becoming a medical professional is a challenging one, requiring resilience, sacrifice, and unwavering commitment. Most who go through med school refer to the experience as “drinking from a fire hydrant,” says Hart, and some question if they’ve made the right decision.
“It’s important to be aware that as much reward as there is in practicing medicine, you should do it for the love of the game,” Osias says. “If you’re not getting value out of the journey, the sacrifices will feel that much greater.” It’s not a career that comes easily, Osias adds, or happens quickly. Despite “the joy of working with patients, learning cool things, and acquiring so much knowledge,” he says, watching friends in other careers move forward and upward can feel like being left behind.
“There were moments I thought medicine wasn’t what I thought it would be,” Mohr admits. “I thought maybe it wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. But when I found palliative care, everything just clicked, and I knew it was the right fit. It’s how I could make the biggest difference in the lives of others, which is exactly why I went into medicine in the first place.” Ultimately, the path to a medical career—whether in human or veterinary medicine—rarely follows a simple checklist. Each doctor’s journey is shaped by challenges, formative moments, and self-discovery with a deep sense of purpose.
For Mohr, Schultz, Jensen, Osias, and Hart, WWU played a key role in shaping not only their careers but their perspectives on medicine, leadership, and the value of compassionate care. Whether through the rigor of pre-med coursework, the encouragement of professors, or the pursuit of interests beyond the sciences, their WWU experience helped prepare them for the unpredictable, challenging, and rewarding world of healthcare.
What is the best thing about working in medicine?
“Outside of patient care, I really enjoy medicine being a team sport. I grew up playing team sports and went to WWU because I wanted to play basketball. I have a certain fondness for situations where you are working together as a team to bring about a certain outcome or to get a certain result.”
—Ethan Osais ’17
“My modus operandi is service. Who you are— your character—is more important than what you know. Developing values and meaning in life are the important things to teach and live, and I hope I’m doing that here.”
—Richard Hart ’66
“You don’t have to be in the medical field to help people, but I have the tools and expertise to make a tremendous difference in the lives of people who are suffering from pain. Outside of the medical field, if you can’t write a prescription, that’s hard to do, so I have a very practical, hands-on way of making a difference.”
—Gina Jervey Mohr ’92
“The best, most rewarding part is being able to be part of the human-animal bond. Making that stronger and helping people help their animals. Some people want to be vets because it’s not a people job, but it’s actually more a people job than an animal job when it comes to communication. It’s rewarding to help people, though. Being a part of witnessing and strengthening that bond.”
—Kayla Nash Jensen ’20
“It’s the interaction with people—both coworkers and patients. Knowing, in my case, that you are a part of their story— that you were there for one of the biggest moments of their life and you helped them through that time and hopefully made it a good experience.”
—Kevin Schultz ’05
