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Metaphors and Medicine (Year I): Chapter 9- "Letter to 2017"

Dear 2017,

I am overwhelmed by the thought of writing this letter to you. You were a beautiful storm. A very chaotic, beautiful storm.

I first greeted you in the buzzing hallways of an Emergency Department, working with one of my favorite physicians of all time. It only took a few minutes for us to meet for you to show me what it meant for people to want to leave you just as quickly as they met you. One suicide attempt after another, they felt close yet so far away. I wished to hold someone's hand and tell them this was just the beginning of something, not the end. You urged me to forget about the "end of 2016" and focus on this new beginning with you.

By the time I met you, I had brushed aside the hurt of 2016. I had found balance and learned contentment. I began my journey with you with a newfound trust in Allah, and yet I still had some anxiety about where I would be a few months into our journey.

But I was content. I was content. I was content.

2016 had been worse. It had been the worst.

 I was content.

I learned gratitude for what I had and for what I didn't have. Surely if I didn't have it, it wasn't meant for me, and for that I had to be grateful.

You showed me that with gratitude and contentment, I could receive the most incredible surprises. You proved to me that pure happiness and bliss is completely possible when you learn to be happy with what you have, and then when a certain little interview invite surprised me in my email, I continued to focus on gratitude, gratitude, gratitude instead of getting ahead of myself.

Of course though, you couldn't shower me with sunny days with the gloomy ones. You watched as I let my guard down, allowed my excitement to carry me away, and left me to wrestle with contentment once again as I was left swimming in disappointment.

I pulled myself out and focused to return to my contentment and trust in His plan.

2017, it was as though you knew what I needed. You sent me more reminders over and over again.

I remembered Tariq, how firmly his little 12-year-old hand held mine in a small OR in Palestine. I was asked about my "why" over and over again, forced to remember it. I was accused of choosing medicine for money, as though wealth could lift you from the middle of the sinking feeling of not being "enough" in medicine: not smart enough, not competitive enough, not personable enough, not compassionate enough. I listened to politicians declare the likes of me do not belong here, and I've made it my personal challenge to prove to them that I will try to benefit our society more than them.

You brought me face-to-face with providers that model the definition of a patient advocate. You showed me those who could also find ways to be better, and thus I've learned to be an advocate, for patients and for people who are "different." I am still learning to be an advocate.

You let people question my "origin" in the middle of my workplace, sparking dialogue between myself and my coworkers. You let someone question the "thing" on my head and allowed me to bridge a gap between those around me through more questions about my identity and the identity of others who didn't have the chance to educate others.

2017, when I reached my peak of my happiness and contentment, you presented me more challenges that made me fall, challenges that made me grow and seek that contentment over and over again, working harder than I ever did for it.

I watched someone close to me lose their child, and I grappled with whether or not I could prevent a patient, a friend, or someone close to me from taking their own life. I questioned my strength, and I questioned my purpose. Most importantly, you forced me to question if I could ever separate my emotions from my daily functioning, if I could truly achieve a work-life balance if I was digging myself so deep, so so deep, into someone's pain for the sake of understanding them. For the first time, I was left unable to speak about someone's inconsolable pain, could hardly even write about it for some time, but you forced me to grow through it.

I learned to lose the shame in how deeply I felt for someone. I forgave myself for not being like others around me who could easily move onto the next patient after a code. I was kinder to myself and less critical of how "sensitive" I was to patient's stories. I let myself feel their hurt instead of battling so hard to hide the hurt I felt for them, as though my strength had to look like the strength of my coworker next to me.

I learned to trust that there was a reason my heart felt so deeply.

I found time to run around with my younger siblings in a playground. I froze moments in my mind in  hopes that I could remember them forever. I let spontaneity control some of my decisions. I listened to my gut more than I have ever done so, relied on how something felt to me more than what is the "right" decision.

I allowed myself to make choices based on what I WANTED vs what I HAD to do. Sometimes that meant choosing an iced white chocolate mocha over an Americano. Other times that meant leaving an incredible job so I could have more time to be present with my family.

I was asked one of the most important questions for anyone trying to move up in their education or career:

Why should we give YOU a seat?

And I spent the rest of the year trying to make sure I was honest about my answer, that I deserved this privilege. I strived to remind myself all year that medicine was a privilege. This seat that came like a beautiful surprise was a privilege. Being able to attend school so near to my family was a privilege.

This struggle, this beautiful, challenging, consuming struggle is a privilege.

2017, you gave me the opportunity to stand on a stage and for an incredible to let a white coat fall on my shoulders, allowed me to scan an audience until I found my tribe cheering me on, my family and best friend, all the people who had seen me fall in 2016, watched me struggle to pick myself back up, debate who I was and who I was meant to be, listened to me complain, cry, laugh, and search for myself. They were there as I found myself again and regained belief in the chance that I could have this moment on this stage.

They watched me find contentment and regain trust in the process, trust in His plan.

You allowed me to meet friends and future colleagues. I've had conversations about our purpose, listened to my classmates share their motivations. I've felt certain in myself one day and uncertain in myself the next.

I've had to build my own safe space in a new home, a new strange and uncertain home. It took me months, but I carved my presence, left my footprints, grew comfortable.

I got support over and over again when I did and didn't deserve it, when I remembered to be grateful for their presence and when my stress got to me and I forgot to show my appreciation.

Most of all, 2017, you made me an aunt and allowed me to watch how love can create a blessing to enlighten the lives of so many like Zaida's smile has.

Dear 2017, you were a beautiful storm. I have loved the time we've spent together. Thank you for being better than the years before. Thank you for being the best year of growth, love, contentment, and trust. Thank you for being you and making me into the me I am at the end of this year. But I am ready for what is next.

You've built me into someone who is ready for whatever comes next. For that reason, I will be meeting 2018 without resolutions and without expectations. For the first time, I will be using the trust I've built throughout this year in Allah's plan and allowing this year to surprise me.

Here's to 2018, and to moments that will continue to give me reason to write and to be. Just to simply be. 

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