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A Year Outside the Classroom- Chapter 7: The Source

I'm not particularly sure where I am going with this post, but bear with me. There is lots of reflection that I am going to attempt to put together cohesively. If you have read my post about this, I am sorry ahead of time that I'm writing about this again.

I've written previously about how much I love what I am working in right now, the flow of the hospital, the constant reminder of where I want to be, how much work I still need to do, and the continued rememberance of my "why."

This past week, however, was a really hard week. Thankfully, no one passed away. No lives were traumatically and dramatically changed. It was long and I was tired, so tired that it has taken me until today (after 2 days away) to feel like writing about it.

I started out the first day totally motivated and energized. But by the 4th day of working, I was drained and I couldn't seem to think of my "why." I've seen a variety of cases this week, as I usually do, but I felt as though for some reason their stories seemed to weigh heavier on me. The old couple married for 57 years who were in the ER because the wife had cancer and yet her husband still introduced her as "my bride." The mother who didn't have insurance and couldn't pay for the care of her children. The suicide attepts, the suicide attempts, and the suicide attempts.

A dozen of days into the new year and people were already signing out.

And then as I was trying to find my motivation to carry on my last work day of this week, I headed to the gym to destress and get my mind focused before another shift. It was there that an older man said to me, after I politely declined to discuss politics with someone I did not know, said to me, "I guess once you're a rich doctor with a chauffer and a big house, none of that will matter to you anymore." It was then that I remembered my why. In the midst of an exhausting week, moments flooded my memory, and I saw the names of the children who were my "why," the families and hospital that always lingered in the back of my mind, stirred when I hear comments like that. 

A year and a half ago, I participating in a week-long medical mission trip with the non-profit organization, Palestine Children's Relief Fund. At this point, I was half way through pre-med, but this journey was a reinforcer, gave me perspective, and left me with people's faces engrained in my mind to remember in moments of weakness in this path. One week later, and 25 people's lives were transformed for the better. 25 families watched their loved ones get care they did not know when they'd receive. I am going to belittle them and say they were only poor families, some of which were refugees. They were people who needed care from physicians that the West Bank did not have and that was all that mattered. (See the series of posts titled "Arab World Perspectives" for more details on this trip!)

Everyone who has thought of going to the West Bank for work knows that one does not do it for money. So when that is my motivation, when I think of those families and think of how much I'd let them down if I quit, one cannot tell me that my source for going into medicine, with everything that it entails, comes down to my paycheck.

To add to that, how could one go through a few days of working, seeing people trying to end their lives because they are unhappy for a variety of reasons, and think that they will help them for the sake of money? I admire the people I have shadowed, observed, worked with, all with theirs pros and cons because this is not a journey one can embark on for money. Perhaps some days they wake up for financial reasons, but that is not why they stay sane. Money cannot erase the stories you hear, the people you meet. 

I know that some of you may have already read a facebook post I wrote about it, but this individual added to my "why." His comment made me realize that he may have had a physician who did indeed only care for the money at this point in their career. 

And this is why I will be better. I refuse to be someone whose source of motivation is money, even when I'm tired. He has given me another thing to think about when I need to keep going. So, dear stranger, I am sorry someone has turned your care into a path for money, but I have too many people sitting in my mind that remind me that for them, I cannot think of money. They are my source, not money.

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