Vaishali Jha

It’s July—the official new year for medicine. You’re either a brand-new intern, wide-eyed and exhausted, equal parts proud and terrified, or maybe you’re stepping into fellowship, wondering how you’re suddenly supposed to be the expert. You’re navigating hallways you haven’t mapped yet, still figuring out whether your badge works on the north wing or the south elevator, trying to remember where you parked, and already questioning if you made a huge mistake. Welcome. You’ve arrived.

“Why do you want to be a doctor?” Ask any pre-med that question, and you’ll probably hear the same answer: “I just want to help people.” I’ve said it, too—more times than I can count. But lately, I’ve started to question what that phrase even means. Not because I’ve lost faith in medicine, but because I’ve learned that helping is more complex, layered, and humbling than I ever imagined.

The erosion of physician mentorship is not just a quiet tragedy; it is an accelerating crisis with rippling effects across the health care system. While much has been written about physician burnout and workforce shortages, far less attention has been paid to the vacuum this leaves in clinical mentorship, particularly in primary care. The implications for physician associates/assistants (PAs) are especially profound.