Enchanting Cerebrum & Solidifying the Path

The moon hangs delicately in the dark sky tonight, a solitary pearl on an invisible thread. The humidity seems to have dissipated, somewhat. The light of day that used to linger late, now sets a bit sooner than we expect. The trees still fill the air with their fragrant perfume on a magical night stroll down avenues and park lanes in my sweet neighborhood. August at last.

And, at last, these lovely, wondrous, romantic thoughts fill my mind and spirit all over again. My wounded heart -this cut, not quite so deep as in the past -has healed again. The heart is probably the only organ that scars may beautify, powerfully transforming who we were into who we are. Perhaps, my language here is a bit excessively deliberate, enthralled by this physical world of nature, and the mysterious physical world of the human body. Only a surgical rotation could enchant me to poetry, I suppose, and here I am.

Neurosurgery. The pulsating brain and spine, the intricate vessels above, below and within, that clear fluid unlike any other bodily fluid, the aponeurosis they call the Galea (even their names for certain kinds of anatomy are more magical!), stemming from temporalis that ensheaths the cranium, and a thin sheet of scalp above. Sigh. Really it's a beauty and an honour. And what pleasure to learn about its inner workings, to unveil a sliver of the secrets of this truly supreme human organ. The root of invention, innovation, creativity... even love! Ah yes, this is love.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience for a determined would-be obstetrician / gynecologist. Yes, that is still exactly what I want to be. 100% sure. It's just that this is therefore my only chance to learn about and watch the brain and those amazing men (they are 90% men, those particular breed of doctors) perform intricate, delicate surgeries on that most prized cerebrum. It's amazing. It's like watching Picasso or Monet or Renoir in action (or what I would imagine that to be, not knowing from first-hand experience). I'm no Picasso or Monet or Renoir. I'm just me and I know that I would not be happy painting for the rest of my life. I'm a writer and soon-to-be doctor. But I can still admire their artistic works. Appreciate them, perhaps love them even.

Afterall, neurosurgery combined with obstetrics is what inspired me to want to become a doctor -intrauterine neurosurgery on a fetus who would have been born with spina bifida and who, following this intervention, was born with full functioning of their nervous system! Breathtaking, really.

So this is what neurosurgery has been for me so far -I'm loving it, the doctors I work with (striking residents aside) are great, I'm learning a lot from self-teaching, and from their experiences.

My elective prior to this, was in obstetrics and gynecology and was truly fantastic. The independence, the technical skills I got to practice, the one-on-one teaching with many different staff. Learning how to do obstetrical ultrasound at some very, very basic level, all by myself (I can tell you by sonography whether the baby is cephalic or breech, whether they have a heartbeat and their abdominal circumference... I have even had success at determining the fetus' sex -not as easy as you would think!). I got to scrub in for nearly every single C-section. I got to close peritoneum thrice! I got to see how to manage shoulder dystocia twice. I got to assist in laparoscopic gynecologic surgeries and exploratory laparotomies. I got to bond with those lovely, glowing, strong, inspiring women as they became new mothers or continued their already-commenced journey of motherhood. It was fabulous. This is what I want to do, this is for sure.

It's so comforting to know my path in this regard, in the larger trail of whatever my life's work will be. Thank you God, thank you Universe, thank you love. And thank you creative muse, wherever you are.