There was a moment, deep in the middle of a shift, when a memory returned so vividly I could almost hear it.

The voice of a former patient, a professor, came back to me. He had taught at top universities in the US and UK. Brilliant, composed, full of depth. The kind of person you meet once and never forget.

In the middle of a conversation, my client asked him why he was doing all this: juggling the teaching, the AI research and training, the heavy lifting of building something bigger than himself.

The professor answered,

“I want to have an impact not just on my students, but on the world.”

That stayed with me.

I realized I wanted the same thing.

I want to have an impact,  not just on my residents or patients, but on the world. Not for recognition. Not for prestige. But simply because I know I can, in my own way.

Then doubt creeps in.

I’m not incredibly smart.

I’m not gifted with charisma.

I’m not the strongest.

So how can I help?

The answer comes back quietly:

Through conscious choice.

By finding balance.

By being aware, moment to moment, of the impact I have.

Am I using up all the incontinence pads tonight, just to avoid hard conversations, even if it means the next shift runs short?

Am I living in a way that takes something from the next generation,  their resources, their rest, their chance?

These aren’t just questions for work. They’re questions for life.

And the more I ask them, the more I see: I am becoming like that professor.

Not just in thoughts, but in actions.

I remember, even during times when I was breaking down while writing those hard incident reports, frustrated and exhausted, I would still end them with a quiet offering:

“What can I do to help?”

That’s still my question.

And maybe, that’s already the impact.