My husband recently came across a blog called 6yearmed. It is written by a clever and insightful 2nd year resident in pediatrics. Like a drug, I can’t stop reading it, even though it makes me cry.
I cry because the tales she tells are heart-wrenching and honest.
I cry because I’ve watched my own patients through similar journeys.
I cry because I am angry. Angry at her for having something that I am desperately afraid of loosing. This past year has been wonderful, but it has also been somewhat akin to breathing polluted air. The greater part of it keeps you alive, but there is a part of it that slowly poisons you, and I am frightened that I will some day turn around to find some fumigating lung cancer stealing my breath away.
There is something very painful about this journey. Sometimes it feels like the harder you try the harder things get. Because you are exhausted. And you say or do something that your peer misinterprets to mean that you are trying to screw him. Or a resident accuses you of being a bad parent and your husband is so tired and frustrated that you are convinced she must be right. Or you stay late with a patient only to be griped at the next morning for not spending more time because you slept in. Or you accidentally say something that makes a mother cry for 5 minutes and you cry for 5 days.
I cry because I am hate myself for being so human.
But most of all I cry because it offers hope. Hope that, even as this resident struggles with these same questions, there is a chance to retain one’s humanity amongst all the noise and bureaucracy that is medicine. And that maybe, if I don’t give up and if I turn to my patients, I can remember why I came to medical school and, with some luck, become the kind of doctor and person I want to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment