It was an ordinary day for Monica Owens.
She was scrubbed in for surgery, something she had done countless times as a surgical tech, when her phone began buzzing. Normally, she would let it go to voicemail, but Monica was expecting an important call. She asked a co-worker to answer and put it on speaker so she wouldn’t break sterility.
Over the speaker, she heard the words she had been waiting for: “Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Spencer Fox Eccles School of Medicine.”
Around the same time, her friend and colleague Lilly Rogers received the same news. Both would be starting medical school in the fall. News spread quickly across the Clinical Neurosciences Center (CNC) as everyone realized that not one but two of their own had been accepted. Out of more than 2,000 applicants, Monica and Lilly were selected to join a class of 120. The journey had been difficult, and the road ahead would not be any easier. But the CNC gave both women more than clinical experience. It gave them mentors, friendship, and perspective.
Monica and Lilly had been on different paths for much of their lives. As they worked together and started school together, those paths began to run side by side, unique to each but united in purpose.
Monica never imagined becoming a doctor. Growing up in Hawaii and marrying her high school sweetheart, higher education had never been part of the plan. After moving to Utah and having her first child, she Googled “medical jobs that do not require a bachelor’s degree.” Surgical technology came up, and she enrolled at Salt Lake Community College, thinking that would be the extent of her education.
After finishing at SLCC, Monica became the personal surgical tech to William Couldwell, MD, chair of the Department of Neurosurgery at the University of Utah. “Being a surgery tech was my dream job,” she says. “I thought I would do it forever.”
But others saw something more. One day, mid-procedure, her timing and intuition were so sharp that she passed instruments before Dr. Couldwell even asked. He paused and said, “You could be a neurosurgery resident if you wanted to.”
That moment shifted everything. Working alongside neurosurgeons at the CNC had shown Monica what was possible, and for the first time, she allowed herself to imagine becoming one. She began taking classes at the University of Utah, earned her bachelor’s degree, and started studying for the MCAT, a path she once thought was out of reach but now felt inspired to pursue.
For Lilly, becoming a physician had been a goal for most of her life. She studied undergrad in Colorado and worked in a nursing home during the COVID-19 pandemic, caring for patients during some of their most difficult moments. The work was heavy, but it clarified her purpose. She loved connecting with patients at their most vulnerable, and she was energized by the science, the constant learning, and the responsibility medicine demanded.
Lilly moved to Utah to study for the MCAT and apply to medical school, drawn to the University of Utah and the kind of medicine she saw practiced there. She applied only to the U and was thrilled when she was accepted.
At the CNC, Lilly found exactly what she had been working toward: team-based care, fast-paced problem solving, and a sense of shared responsibility. A health care assistant (HCA) in the operating room, Lilly spent her days running between cases, preparing patients, setting up ORs, and supporting surgical teams, even scrubbing in to assist from time to time. She gravitated toward moments that required quick thinking, like codes, rapids, and acute cases. That work is like being “a detective of the body,” she says.
For Monica, those same operating rooms once cemented a singular vision. Neurosurgery felt like the pinnacle of medicine. It was demanding, technical, and all-consuming in the way she admired. Her time at the CNC became the standard she held herself to as she took her next steps.
Three years into medical school, their lives have evolved, and their dreams have too. Monica once imagined becoming a neurosurgeon, drawn to the intensity and precision. But medical school broadened her perspective. As she moved through rotations, she noticed many paths that demand excellence, resilience, and deep commitment, discovering that OB/GYN might better fit the life she’s building.
“It makes me happy,” she says. “And it means I could finish residency in four years instead of seven, while my kids are still little.”
That realization felt more like refining her ambition instead of letting it go. Monica wanted a career that allowed her to practice medicine at the highest level while still being present. She wanted to grow alongside her children, share life with her husband, and show her daughters what belief, discipline, and hard work can build over time.
Lilly feels deeply pulled toward internal medicine. She values the advocate role physicians play, especially for patients navigating complicated systems. A top student in her class and elected class president, she brings joy, energy, and leadership into every space she enters. Her classmates, patients, and care teams feel those qualities immediately.
In medical school together, the two women connected like magnets. They were an unlikely pair in some ways, but both were positive, determined, and unwavering in their support of one another.
To manage stress, Monica took up running. Days before her half marathon, her running partner dropped out. “I will run it with you,” Lilly said, showing up untrained simply to support her friend. “She beat me,” Monica laughs. “But I was so grateful to have her there.”
For Lilly, being outside is how she sustains herself. After long weeks on demanding rotations, time outdoors helps her reset so she can continue showing up fully for her patients. What gives her energy through long shifts, she says, is the people she works with, the patients she cares for, and the learning that happens every day.
Both hope to stay in Utah for residency, though they know there are no guarantees. What grounds them is a shared belief that purpose, people, and meaningful work matter more than certainty.
For Monica, becoming a physician is about more than providing for her family. It’s about showing her daughters what is possible. She wants them to see that paths can change without losing meaning, that hard work adds up, and that believing in yourself can open doors you never thought were meant for you.
In a profession defined by long hours, steep learning curves, and emotional weight, Monica and Lilly carry something rare: perspective. Their paths were shaped not by expectation but by grit, curiosity, and a community that recognized their potential.
As they trade their scrubs for white coats, they do so together, grounded in friendship, guided by purpose, and ready for what comes next.
“I feel like I could call Lilly at two in the morning and she would pick up,” Monica says. “She is just that kind of friend.”
By Sheridan Underwood; Photos by Kim Raff
