Skip to main content

Metaphors and Medicine (Year I): Chapter 4

Sometimes I wish I could see the future.

Okay, not sometimes. A lot of times.

I wish I could find out how this semester of medical school will end. I wish I could know if my loved ones will live long enough to see my children's children. I wish I could know if a decision I am making now will be one that I come to regret.

I wish I could see my future self, to see if she has grown more, or if something has happened that caused her to crumble. Mostly, I want to see if she is fulfilled, if she is content. I want to know if her heart is full of satisfaction, if she made the right choice in her path, the right choice in her friends, and if she loved the right people.

I want to know if she is content with herself. 

We are currently in our third block of the semester, meaning that after these set of exams, we are free for winter break (two weeks off, yipee!). Somehow, from where I am, I can't really see to that point. Medical school is all about taking life day by day because if I was to think about the amount of studying I need to get done between now and then, I'd completely overwhelm myself. So here I am, taking it one day at a time.

In the last post, I wrote about how challenging it is to balance school with interests in life that are unrelated to medical school. Since then, I have pushed myself to be more in touch with the part of me that got me here, the part that found her purpose through her involvement in activities unrelated to school. I returned to lead my youth group (and had another amazing discussion), volunteered in the children's ED and as a health room helper in an elementary school. I have been leaving my usual spot in the library and finding solace in the confines of coffee shops amidst their aromas that force me to forget the rest of the world.

I found ways to remember that I am still building myself. That means every part of myself: the professional, the health nut, the sister, the daughter, the friend, etc. How I deal with these challenges is shaping each one of those identities.

It has also brought me face to face with the fact that in order for anyone to grow into the best version of themselves, they must be comfortable with themselves.

They must be content with themselves.

No matter how hard I'll wish to know the future, there is something magical about watching your life unfold. It's beautiful to watch yourself carve aspects of your life with your own hands and put in as much work as possible. Then you get to step back and take a look at what you've made, at the person, the version of yourself you have shaped.

At some point (very soon!) the semester will end, and I will get to look back at how much work I've put in. I will witness my growth from the nervous but excited young woman who started school in August, so sure of herself and her path. She was content. Somewhere along the way, she felt life was becoming more complicated, she became worried about grades again, worried about how she was being perceived, worried about whether or not she was shaping herself in the best way she could be.

I wish I could back three months and tell her to remember to keep breathing, to remind her to stop life from sitting on her shoulders for too long and growing heavier and heavier by the day.

In the struggle to balance life and school, every once and a while, life has found a way to creep its way between my books and papers, surprising me and reminding me that it exists outside of the confines of the medical school library. I am reminded that I have friends/family who are traveling, getting married, having children, etc. People moving up in their careers, crushing more and more goals. People finding their people.

In those moments, it is hard not to look at the work in front of me and wish I was somewhere else. But then I remember that I am here building myself. One day, my parents will be proud of the hours I spend sitting here. Patients will thank me for being me, for working so hard to preserve myself and be the best version of myself for them. My person will be point me out in a crowd and say, "That girl. That woman. That's my life partner."

I am shaping myself into someone who will be content and fulfilled and satisfied with who she grows into. The efforts I put in now will make me a better daughter, sister, friend. They will make me a better mother. They will make me a better best friend and person to my significant other one day, the person who will respect me for the work I've put in to developing myself to build us, to build our family, and to give our family a woman to look up to and believe they can be what they want to be too. There will be someone to love my "complications" and respect me for them, just like I hope to respect and love what he contributes to making us us. 

But until then, it is my job to focus on ways to make myself stronger, better, and more whole. Everything else will fall into place.

I wish I could know my future self just so I could tell her how excited I am to become her.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I wanted to belong here But something felt so wrong here -Breakaway No, I'm not one of those people who post song lyrics to explain every moments of their lives, but this is my first post, and I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway as I try to put my words down on here. I just felt like those two lines really relate to what I am about to talk about. Me. Since you and I are both new here, I thought I'd introduce myself, give you a reason to keep reading my blog, and give you a reason to believe that I really hope you find a friend in me. Here's my story: I am a writer. I love writing. I believe words run through my veins with my blood, dialogue is constantly on play in my head, and I could speak in metaphors all day if I wanted to. Really, try me. ;) Point is, I am a very figurative yet literal person. And when my life was forced to change, I used writing to help me get through it. After my sophomore in high school, I moved away from the Middle East (whe...

Metaphors and Medicine (Year I): Chapter 2

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 ...

What does it really mean to be American?

Hmm, got you thinking there, didn't I? Just yesterday, I had a discussion with a few friends about this question. We had to think about it for a few minutes to. What does it really mean to be American? Do you have to be born here to be American? Do you have to have an American passport? Are you still American if you've lived in America your whole life but you aren't a citizen? What if you're like me, lived in two different countries during your lifetime and have a different nationality? Does the fact that I'm an American citizen and a Palestinian citizen make me Palestinian or American? Here's what I said: I think that as long as you can refer to America as your home, no matter who you are or where your family is from, you're still an American.  And this doesn't just concern America. If a person is American but has lived in Germany or France during their life, and they can somehow refer to that place as home, then that makes them German or Fren...