If someone had asked me when I started pharmacy school, “Do you see yourself working and living in Washington, DC?,” I would have laughed. But a few years and a move later, as a newly minted PharmD, I found myself living in the nation’s capital and training as the APhA Foundation Executive Resident.    

The subject of addiction is a hotly contested, highly polarized debate. There are two main schools of thought: the disease model (genetics and biochemical factors) versus the moral model (character flaws and lack of willpower). I think student pharmacists might side with the disease model; personally, I believe that addiction is a legitimate medical illness. However, I recognize that not everyone shares my feelings, especially outside of the clinical setting, and I have come to learn that sharing an impassioned rhetoric about why I am right and my “opponent” is wrong does not bring the two sides of any debate closer together. 

Sleepless nights, endless cups of coffee, and exercise long forgone. For many student pharmacists, this is simply a way of life. The stress of academics compounded with extracurricular commitments and employment often leads to the development of habits that are far from ideal. That is why I recently participated in a research study at The University of Iowa College of Pharmacy, which observed the self-reported health status and health behaviors of student pharmacists. 

As future health professionals, student pharmacists learn to educate patients about the importance of practicing healthy behaviors and gain a vast knowledge of all the benefits that occur when engaging in certain activities, as well as the detrimental effects of others. Considering that student pharmacists have such a clear and meaningful understanding of the importance of healthy behaviors, it may be expected that they as a whole are a healthy subset. However, this is not always the case. 

For the rest of my life. Forever. The realization of the permanence of my disease brought forth the tears I had worked hard to suppress. I fell apart right there in the pharmacy line. Even with dozens of potential witnesses, no one looked at me. The chaotic sounds of the surrounding pharmacy began to retreat from my ears as they became distant and muffled. The people around me, proffering no consolation, quickly faded into my unsympathetic surroundings. I was alone in this. 

Less than an hour before, I had been informed, at the age of 22, I had an incurable, difficult-to-treat autoimmune disease called ulcerative colitis. My traitorous immune system had marked my colon for destruction and was succeeding in its purge. 

“I don’t think you’re going to finish the PhD program.”  

I still remember the ironically-timed thunder that sounded right after these words came out of Susan Lever’s, PhD, mouth (my University of Missouri graduate school research advisor). I nervously shifted in my chair across her desk, thinking about ways to explain. Explain the reason I wasn’t getting my chemical reactions done, the reason that I was coming in late to lab almost every day, and the reason it seemed like I had lost my passion for research. 
But, honestly, after months of trying to convince myself that I was on the right path, I decided to finally admit that I wasn’t. It took a leap of faith to get me where I am today.