Ridhima Ghoshal, Himalayan Health Summer 2025
When I decided to study abroad in the Himalayas, I imagined sweeping mountain views, prayer flags fluttering in the wind, and an experience that would feel like stepping into another world. Coming into the program, I already knew that this adventure would shift my perspectives on what I have previously learned as I see new things and learn new information. What I didn’t expect was how deeply it would transform the way I see healthcare and the path I want to take in my own career.
I came in with my experience as an EMT and ideas from my job on the ambulance, thinking I had a good foundation for when I certify as a Wilderness First Responder here. But working in a rural Himalayan hospital challenged me to rethink what I “knew.” During my time here. I had to constantly separate and reframe both my knowledge as an EMT and what I was learning at the community hospital or in my WFR training classes. For example, I was used to the EMT protocol of using dry dressings for burns, assuming a patient would soon reach a higher level of care within 10 minutes to the nearest hospital. But as a WFR, I’d learned that when you’re in the wilderness for hours (or even days), you might opt for moist dressings to keep tissue viable until evacuation. In fact, you have so much time as a WFR, your care expands across different levels of practices. Standing in that hospital, I had to decide which mindset applied. Patients weren’t being whisked to a burn unit in twenty minutes; sometimes, this small clinic was the highest level of care they’d see. Not every hospital has a burn unit either so having such a patient requires you to prioritize your resources, how to handle them, and understanding the time you have left in transporting.
The hospital building itself was modest: peeling paint, basic equipment, and shelves that sometimes sat empty of medicines we take for granted at home. But every morning, lines of patients from surrounding villages would form, some probably having walked for hours just to see a doctor. Watching this, I was struck by the sheer determination people had to access even the most basic care. Doctors and nurses have to make the difficult decisions of which patients to treat first, how to treat them when supplies and rooms may be running low, and how to treat conditions without the technology that we always assume is there. During our lectures outside of the hospital, we learned not only about the disparity of resources but the lacking amount of professional healthcare available. Although there is a shortage of doctors and nurses in the country in general, it is practically nonexistent in rural areas such as these parts due to individuals who do not want to work here at all. Not everyone wants to brave the discomfort of a rural setting and a workspace which requires more adaptability and reasoning than the hard textbook logic that healthcare professionals are honed to use. Unfortunately, this issue affects the people of the area more than the system designed to help them. Again, I was reminded of how much we all should be grateful for what we have and we do not even realize.
Especially during my training as a WFR, that constant mental shift was humbling. Every decision had to be made with a blend of training, creativity, and realism about the resources around us. Supplies were limited, so improvisation wasn’t just encouraged; it was required. We fashioned splints from hiking sticks or made C-spine collars using sweaters. Most materials used were ones that would have been discarded back home. But I began to realize how useful this practical knowledge is and it made me realize there is so much I can do with my hands that I don’t have to rely on the resources that the ambulance provides for me back home. As a healthcare provider, I believe this to be of the utmost importance: you are the one providing healthcare, not the resources.
As I was able to understand a lot of the local language and learned to speak a little bit of it, I was able to effectively communicate with the patients and doctors. In fact, it allowed my clinical hours to be more useful as nurses were better able to explain conditions to me and doctors trusted me more with cases. I was able to direct patients to rooms and see the most interesting cases that I know I would not be able to see back home.
Coming back, I can’t look at the field I’m going into the same way. I used to think of healthcare as a cold system with its clinics, hospitals, and labs, but now I see it as something more. Healthcare is human. Access to care isn’t equal, and my time in the Himalayas made that painfully clear. It also made me want to be part of the solution.
The mountains taught me humility, but that hospital taught me purpose. I came home with more than memories; I came home with a clearer vision of the kind of healthcare provider I want to be: one who never forgets the people behind the medicine.
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