Random, but if you care to know. . .

The past few weeks, I have had the opportunity to work with a number of inner city patients. I wanted to share a interaction that has been on my mind.

The man had been brought in drunk the night before after being found on the side of the road. It isn't clear whether he was attacked or whether he simply passed out. My team had been consulted because of suspected spinal chord injuries.

As I proceeded with my interview, the patient asked me if I was going to be a doctor. He then proceeded to tell me I would be well off, asking "What will you make when you're done, like 70 grand?" I smiled and said, "Something like that," embarrassed to tell him that he had underestimated my future income by about 50%.

As part of the curriculum, I recently read an article about the "hidden curriculum" of medical school. The article argued that many virtues that are sought after by medical admissions boards are extinguished by a hidden curriculum of exhausting hours, jaded attendings, and constant criticism. Of note, one of the problems it cited was a development of a sense of privilage among medical students. In other words, medical students are leaving school feeling that they deserve a good income, prestige and long vacations.

The comment caught me off gaurd because, after spending the last 6 years in school with 6 left to go, I feel like I deserve SOMETHING for all my hard work. After all, practicality has to fit into the equation.

Yet, after these past couple weeks, I wonder. I CHOSE a training program with exhausting hours, and I CHOOSE to stay in it each day. I can expect this choice to be rewarded by a comfortable income. In contrast, many of my patients work longer, more exausting hours than I. After 15 hours of monotonous work, they may return home to briefly rest and be with their family before starting all over again the next day. Their is often no hope of changing this pattern.

I am not saying that I think my time and efforts shouldn't be rewarded, but I guess I am seeing it a bit differently, perhaps more like I did two years ago when I started. In short, I think maybe we SHOULD be leaving medical school with a sense of privilage, but a different kind of privilage: the privilage to go to medical school, to be part of a culture where success and self-determination are the expectations, and to walk with patients in their most vulnerable and difficult moments.

And with that, I will get off of my soap box. Thanks for reading.

"I can't take it anymore!" (for reals this time)

When Ashton just can't handle it anymore . . .