Almost a Doctor

I haven't written in a long time. Deliberately. CaRMS rank order lists being in now, I am free once again. But I cannot really blame residency programs and the match system for my cautionary tip-toeing... really, it was my own stress and anxiety that stifled me.

I knew what I wanted or at least I thought I did. Then the "Tour": flying in and out of sleepy towns and bustling cities, run-down hospitals and new facilities, friendly faces, impersonal glares, plastic smiles, dancing eyes. Crisp and clean, sharp and smart, strutting down corridors, streets and wards. I sell myself and then it's your turn. We eat sandwiches and cookies and more of the same. Hotel for a day, steak almost every evening, it's crowded, yet lonely, hectic and exhausting, yet I read three novels and a philosophical treatise. Prepping, handshakes, tours and every night a new bed, dropping cash and credit cards the whole long way... the damage done is more than my pocketbook. But only once damaged do we really learn, grow and change, ready to start anew soon enough. Perhaps it is fitting afterall.

Repeatedly building up and shattering my ego and my life for people I hardly knew and could only hope would be kindred spirits. And then they ranked, and now we rank. What do I want? Where do I want to be? But these questions merely gloss the beast beneath: I am almost a doctor and am I really ready? Will I thrive or barely survive the next step of my training? People's lives will truly be in my hands... am I ready? Will I deserve the title of "Dr."?

I am scared. I secretly think we all are. Yes, there is so much to look forward to, following our specific passions at last, making more of a difference (for better or for worse), maturing in this profession and having a voice -these are all good. But are we ready to pay an increasing price for each mistake and will the lessons we continue to learn be truly worth the resulting damage? We will have to be more efficient... does that mean we have to love less? We're meant to advocate, yet not rock the boat too much. We're meant to diagnose and treat rapidly and discharge. We will need to know so much and practice that art the most -the art of knowing, the art of doing. How much space will there really be for the art of learning?

I have more questions you know, they are endless. More uncertainty and mystery. But it will be my confidence that my patients and colleagues will most need... How do I draw water from that well amidst all this? Diagnose and plan, but we're told to treat patients, not diseases, while medicine teaches us mainly the latter and less so, the former.

And speaking of former, I am trying to find my constant. These four years have changed me so -it's nearly impossible not to transform. And with that transformation, there's experience, a vascillating hardening and softening of the mind and spirit and heart. We have new eyes even though we didn't realize that we were asking for them all along. Is my essence the same or has that changed too? And is it for the better? Will I be happy on this path, always? Will I be good enough? Should my happiness depend on how good I am or how well I do or how much I am liked?

Ah, well, you see, I am still that same philosopher girl. Still asking and wondering. Yes, now after watching vibrant, accomplished women deteriorate before my eyes, and once-strong men succumb to the deadliest illnesses, after seeing babies die and the elderly cry, families scream and groan while their loved ones sleep and moan, I must say this: Our world is filled with tragedies and joys, catastrophes and miracles, every single bloody, but light-filled day. It is a strange and beautiful place. But as the 6 year-old me once said, "The sun is shining and I love the world".

My last book for pleasure was The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer. It has shown me this Universe through yet another lens, and perhaps the question I should be asking, the one that penetrates through all these many layers of fear, worry and insecurity, is not "Why?" or "How", but "Who?" In mindful practice, it is the Observer within, in the seat of consciousness, who is aware and watching all this internal chaos. I am not the chaos though, nor am I in crisis. I am neither afraid nor alone. In all that dark unknown, one might ask, "Who is aware of the darkness?"

Doctor, don't worry, everything will be alright.