Metaphors & Medicine

"My apologies to time for all the world I overlook               each second."    -Wislawa Szymborska, "Under One Small Star" They say silence is louder than words. Imagine the silence of the single voice inside of you that motivates every ounce of your being, pushes you past your limits, reminds you of why  you are where you are. Why .  I should be studying for my upcoming week of exams, but this morning the silence was just so freaking loud . Mind you, when I noticed it, I was at the gym with loud music pounding through my ears over the sounds of my struggling breaths as I sprinted.  So what is this silence I'm talking about?  I found my purpose in the middle of a hospital for the uninsured. I found myself in the absence of things: medical resources, medical professionals, and mostly, the absence of an open heart, unharmed by the damage of a place that did not have a lot of necessities. ...

There's a story behind everything in medicine. In the first few weeks of school, I was walking to the children's hospital connected to my school with a friend as we adventured to the cafeteria in search of additional doses of caffeine to fuel our long biochemistry study session. As we walked, I complained about how challenging this test was going to be, how hard studying was, how challenging this adjustment has been, etc, etc, etc. Meanwhile, we got onto the elevator and joined what seemed like a child and his mother and grandmother. "Where to?" she asked. "Lower level, please, thanks," I said. She nodded and clicked the LL button. She had her hands tenderly around the little boy's shoulders. I resumed speaking to my friend about how worth it I hope it'll be later. The family remained quiet and the elevator stopped, opening its doors to the level that was their stop. As they were leaving, I looked up at the mother, her eyes appeared red and ...

If I could sum up the last 7 weeks of medical school in one thought, it would be that everyone tells you, "You will be fine." And I keep thinking, "How?" How does this terrifying, anxiety-inducing, exciting, way-too-fast paced race ever become fine?  They do seem fine. They seem to have gotten through their first year of medical school fine. They are living. Or I should say everyone appears  to be living.  I wonder if they felt the same way I do. I wonder if they struggled with certain parts of adjusting to this new way of life as much as I have. Would they still be fine? Or is this merely a coping mechanism, a way that their brain hides the suffering they endured in the previous years, or else how would they move on to the next year and the bigger challenges each year brings?  They have to believe  they are fine. And maybe that is what they are trying to get me to believe.  Maybe I will be fine. But right now, I think it's important, ...