Good afternoon, everyone.

I think it’s safe to say that most of us are here today because we share a simple yet profound desire—to help people. We chose medicine not for its prestige or promises, but because we wanted to make a difference in people’s lives.

Whether that calling came from a personal experience or a story in a book—whether we were inspired by the selflessness of Dr. Schweitzer, the compassion of Florence Nightingale, or a physician or nurse who touched our own lives—we were drawn to this profession to heal.

But today, I am not here to share my vision or teach you lessons from textbooks. Normally, my talks are about the colon and anus, accompanied by PowerPoint slides filled with graphic images. But today, I am here to challenge you—to think about what we can do and what we must do. To recognize that the future of medicine lies in your hands.

And I know you are different—because while your friends may be outside enjoying a beautiful spring afternoon, you’ve chosen to be here, driven by the belief that you can do more.

Look at how far we’ve come.

Not long ago, gallbladder surgery meant a 10-day hospital stay and a large incision. Today, it’s performed through three tiny holes, and patients go home the same day. We once made massive abdominal incisions to remove colon cancer—now, I can remove an entire colon through a few small incisions and discharge patients the next morning.

Dr. Hyun and I have shared colon cancer patients for over two decades; we are part of this incredible evolutionary journey. We’ve moved from open-heart surgeries to catheter-based procedures, from dialysis to growing organs in animals for human transplantation. The impossible is becoming reality—because of people who dared to imagine something better.

In the last decade alone, we’ve witnessed breakthroughs that once belonged in science fiction.

mRNA vaccines were developed in record time to combat a global pandemic, saving millions of lives and opening doors to vaccines for cancer and chronic diseases.

CRISPR technology now allows us to rewrite human DNA, offering hope to patients with genetic diseases once deemed incurable. CAR-T cell therapy is revolutionizing cancer treatment. Artificial intelligence can detect early signs of disease faster and more accurately than any human. And technologies like liquid biopsies enable us to diagnose cancers through a simple blood test—years before symptoms even arise.

Yet, despite these extraordinary advances, we face a sobering truth: innovation alone cannot solve the deeper problems in healthcare.

In the United States, we spend more on healthcare than any other country—almost 18% of our GDP—yet our life expectancy lags behind. The reasons are as complex as they are urgent: gaps in access, systemic inequities, and the crushing weight of administrative inefficiency. We live in a country where your zip code can determine your lifespan.

Let me share the story of a visiting nurse in West Virginia, recently highlighted in The New York Times. This nurse travels through rugged, remote areas to deliver care to patients who would otherwise be forgotten. Her work is not just about administering medication or checking vital signs—it’s about showing up, offering dignity, and filling the gaps where our system falls short. She is not just providing healthcare—she is providing human care. And that distinction matters.

Because healthcare today is no longer just about skilled surgeons like me performing precise procedures or experienced physicians prescribing the right medications. It’s about recognizing the entire ecosystem of care—where social workers, policymakers, and community leaders play as vital a role as any surgeon. It’s about ensuring that patients are not just surviving, but living with dignity—where no one should have to choose between paying for medicine and putting food on the table.

This is the world you are inheriting. And I ask you—what will you do with it?

The future of medicine is not just about the next technological breakthrough—it’s about collaboration, connection, and compassion.

My own journey in global health has shown me that the greatest impact often comes from working together across borders and disciplines. Whether it’s my mission work in South America or supporting a stand-alone surgical center deep in the Ugandan jungle—where local surgeons, supported remotely by experts in New York, are saving lives every day—what matters most is the human connection.

Connections that were made are saving lives.

The connections you are making here today are not different at all. Through these connections we may be able to find solutions for even west Virginia.

So, as you continue your journey in medicine, I urge you to hold onto the desire that first brought you here—to help people. But don’t stop there. Look beyond the operating room, beyond the clinic. Be the generation that pushes medicine forward—not just in technology, but in humanity. Advocate for the patients who have no voice. Challenge the systems that perpetuate inequity. And never forget that behind every chart, every scan, every statistic—there is a human being in need of care, human care.

The world doesn’t just need better doctors—it needs better people in medicine. And I believe you are those people. I am honored to have known you, and I am even more excited to see what you will do.

Thank you.