Gianluca Cerri: How One Doctor Found His Balance in Emergency Medicine

Some people are drawn to medicine because it offers stability. Others are drawn to it for science. For Dr. Gianluca Cerri, it was the unpredictability. “I’ve always been more comfortable in chaos than in calm,” he says. “Not because I like drama, but because that’s where I feel most useful.”

Dr. Cerri is an emergency medicine physician based in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. But that title doesn’t fully explain what he does—or how he got here.

The Early Path: Curiosity Before Career

Cerri grew up in Milan, Italy. His curiosity started early, long before medicine was even on the table.

“I was the kind of kid who took things apart just to see how they worked,” he says. “Sometimes I could put them back together. Sometimes not.”

After moving to the U.S., he found himself drawn to biology and chemistry. He enrolled at Nicholls State University, earning a biology degree with a chemistry minor. He graduated magna cum laude.

Still, medicine wasn’t inevitable.

“There were moments when I wasn’t sure I belonged,” he says. “But every time I found a new challenge in school or in the hospital, I wanted to stay in it longer.”

Training in Pressure

Cerri went on to attend Louisiana State University Medical School. During his Internal Medicine residency, he became Chief Resident. That role helped him see the leadership side of medicine—something he didn’t expect to enjoy.

“Being Chief Resident taught me more than I thought it would,” he says. “It wasn’t just about being the best doctor in the room. It was about creating space for other doctors to grow.”

After that, he completed an Emergency Medicine residency at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. That’s where he found his home.

“Emergency medicine is raw,” he says. “There’s no time to rehearse. You just do what you know, and you do it fast.”

What You See, and What You Don’t

Cerri says people often misunderstand emergency medicine. They think it’s all trauma cases and dramatic saves.

“Honestly, the hardest part isn’t the blood and guts,” he says. “It’s the expectations. It’s when someone walks in thinking you can fix something no one’s been able to fix in 10 years—in 10 minutes.”

He’s not bitter about it. Just realistic.

“You learn to have honest conversations without losing compassion,” he adds. “That’s harder than diagnosing a broken rib.”

Cerri also talks about what people don’t see.

“You might treat a dozen people in a shift. Some are in and out. Some need to be stabilized for hours. But the emotional math never adds up the same,” he says.

One patient might stick with him for days. Another might become a blur.

“You carry more than you realize,” he adds. “Until one day you don’t, and that’s when you know you need a break.”

Night Shifts and the Search for Normal

Emergency medicine doesn’t happen on a 9-to-5 schedule. Cerri has worked his share of nights, weekends, and holidays.

“There’s something surreal about eating breakfast after a night shift while the rest of the world is just waking up,” he says. “It messes with your body, but more than that, it messes with your relationships.”

That’s something younger doctors often overlook, he says.

“They think, ‘Cool, I get weekdays off.’ But then your friends stop calling because they know you’re always sleeping, or working, or recovering.”

He makes time for balance. Motorcycling and weightlifting are two of his go-to outlets. Family time matters most.

“If you don’t protect the quiet parts of your life, this job will eat them,” he says.

The Role of Technology

Like many physicians, Cerri has a complicated relationship with technology.

“I don’t want to spend my whole shift looking at a screen,” he says. “But I also know AI and telemedicine are changing the game, especially in rural areas.”

He’s especially interested in how AI can support overburdened systems.

“If you’re the only doctor in a rural ER at 2 a.m., and there’s no radiologist on call, an AI tool that flags a brain bleed on a CT scan could be a life-saver,” he says.

But he warns against thinking tech alone is enough.

“Technology should be a tool, not a crutch,” he says. “We still need humans who can think, feel, and decide.”

Lessons in Humility

Even after decades in medicine, Cerri isn’t above learning. He still sees every shift as an opportunity to grow.

“You’re never done learning in this field,” he says. “The second you think you’ve seen everything, something new walks in.”

That humility shapes how he mentors young doctors too.

“I tell students, don’t be afraid to say, ‘I don’t know,’” he says. “That’s where the learning starts. That’s where the good doctors are made.”

He also talks openly about burnout—not just for others, but in his own experience.

“There have been times when I wasn’t okay,” he says. “And admitting that didn’t make me weak. It made me better.”

What’s Next?

When asked about the future, Cerri is hopeful, but grounded.

“I don’t know where medicine is headed, exactly,” he says. “But I know what I want to see—more equity, better access, and a stronger support system for the people doing the work.”

For now, he’s focused on staying present.

“I just try to show up, be sharp, and treat people like they matter,” he says. “That’s the job. That’s always been the job.”

And in a field that never stands still, maybe that’s enough.