My path to medicine diverged slightly from the norm. Before embarking on my academic journey, I had the privilege of being a second-round NHL draft pick and enjoyed a tenure as a professional hockey player.

During my CaRMS interviews, inquiries about my prior experiences and their relevance to residency were common. I often delivered the standard replies: “Teamwork makes the dream work,” “Gotta get the pucks deep,” and “More bodies to the net.” However, the true gift of spending a decade as a professional hockey player has been perspective. Thus, I’d like to share some insights gained from hockey and their impact on my residency.

The challenges faced in the workplace and high expectations are also present in residency training. Throughout my five-year professional hockey career, I lived in nine different cities. While one might say, “That sounds thrilling,” I would respond, “Not really.” Some relocations stemmed from demotions, promotions, trades, or new opportunities. In the majority of instances, my input was non-existent; I was merely packaged and transferred like a low-grade cut of meat. Yes, there were summers where I could choose which team to join, but 90 percent of the time, it involved a call from the general manager stating, “Brett, grab your bag; you’re heading to (insert one of the nine previous cities), and we’re uncertain of your return. Your flight is in two hours.” Occasionally, while watching sports highlights, my name would scroll by under the word TRADED, and I’d think, “Huh, it would have been nice to get a heads-up.” On one occasion, I had only 45 minutes to gather my things and reach the airport to join a completely different team that same day. I ended up taking two T-shirts, my suit, and a laptop, thinking I’d be back in a few days. The following two months were spent in a hotel, eating out for every meal. I wore the same pants for a week, using the dressing room machines to do laundry. When I eventually returned, my fridge was so foul that the smell hit me the moment I opened the door. I quickly learned to stop shopping at Costco (which is significant if you’re familiar with my love for Costco). There’s no doubt that residency is tough. Working 24-36 hours shifts while also finding time for research and studying is overwhelming. Consistently exceeding expectations can be draining. Yet, when the demands of clinical work, research, teaching, and studying start to close in on me, I find solace knowing that when I eventually head home, I’ll be with my wife and sleeping in my own bed. So far, no one has forced me to leave town.

At times, work will simply feel like work, even if you’re passionate about it. I’ve been fortunate to experience (in my view) two of the most rewarding jobs in the world. However, there were countless mornings when I hesitated to get out of bed and tie up my skates, even while playing a game for a living that I loved immensely. It felt like work to the extent that I would sometimes fantasize about being injured—nothing severe, just enough to enjoy a weekend off without feeling weak. At one point, I was concerned that I might be losing my love for the game, yet those days would come and go. Reflecting back now, I can’t envision a more extraordinary way to have spent my mid-twenties. Residency has paralleled that experience, with the inherent highs and lows of this profession. It’s easy to think, “After dedicating decades, is this what I get?!” But during tough times, I find it beneficial to step back, gain perspective, and view the bigger picture. We engage in incredible experiences and meet remarkable individuals. Acknowledging that it’s possible to genuinely love your job while occasionally finding it frustrating is a comfort to me. Maintaining that perspective helps me endure those less pleasant days, knowing they will eventually fade.

Work will always persist, but family and friends may not be around. Being a physician and a professional athlete demands immense dedication. It’s inevitable that birthdays, anniversaries, and celebrations will be overlooked. I left home at 15 and moved to the U.S. to pursue hockey. From August until May, I had no weekends free and no vacations. During the summer, there