Archives: Winding Down

April Third Year:

I can tell that the end of my official medicine training road is drawing near.

Nostalgia has always been my go-to emotion...never very far from the surface. Lately, though, it comes in more noticeable and frequent waves.

Last night, for example: I was the back-up call resident. In the last few months of residency, that is usually a blessed thing where you review ER patient's with the 2nd year resident on the phone but stay home unless someone is sick, sick, sick. It almost feels (oh happy day) like not being on call at all. Still, I had never made plans to do anything on a call night. You know how the cosmos can be.

This week I couldn't resist an invitation to join some of our friends for dinner at their home. I joked to Rockstar, "surely this will mean that things won't go as planned."

We walked into their lovely home, and immediately my cell phone went off. It was the 2nd year resident. She had two patient's to admit at one hospital and another waiting at the other hospital. The pager was exploding. She was freaking out. "I have never asked for help, but I am drowning...could you answer the phones for me?" Ha! Told you so. After thirty minutes spent trying to figure out why the pager system was malfunctioning, I was able to log in and start covering the messages for her.

My gracious host never batted an eye as I darted in and out of the dining room, and turned their lovely dinner party into a harried scene. The food, by the way, was divine.

As we were leaving their house, I checked in with the 2nd year again and discovered that 2 or 3 more admissions had come in to the hospital she was at. Panic was evident in her voice and her mind was showing signs of being lost entirely. I've had nights like that. I felt for her. "Just breathe, we'll get through this. I've got the phones covered. After I put the baby down, I'll head to the other hospital and take care of that admission." Palpable relief rushed through my earpiece as she sighed, "Thank you. so. much."

I got to the hospital late, during that hour when the ER is still crazy, but the rest of the halls are quiet. I actually love the hospital during that time. It is quiet, sacred and feels strangely like home. I should've known I'd end up as a doctor when hospitals ranked up with bookstores, libraries and The Disney Store as enjoyable places during my childhood.

I don't spend as much time at this particular hospital anymore. I'm there on occasion, but spend more time at another local hospital. It felt good to be back. Walking down a deserted hallway with only the clack of my shoes to fill the space, scenes from my time here popped up like TV episodes in my mind: surgeries assisted on, residents worked with, patients cared for. Emotions came rushing back: grumpy over-tiredeness, satisfaction, desperation, relief.

I should not feel nostalgic over thirty hour shifts, 80+ hour work weeks, and days that make you feel like your emotional, intellectual and physical reserves are being taxed completely. But somehow I do.

I walked down a corridor between the main hospital and the heart center. My white coat hung on my shoulders in the comfortable way that it has ever since it stopped feeling like a costume a few years ago. I smiled at the few families who were still in waiting rooms. They smiled back with that smile imbued with subtle gratitude. 'Thank you for being here and taking care of patients', it seems to say.

I found my patient. "Hi, I'm Dr. *," I began. Like so many times before. I finished up my work and then retraced my steps back to my car.

Why the nostalgia? I feel nostalgic over things that I know I'll never get back or experience in quite the same way again. I feel nostalgic over things that have meaning, over things that I'm grateful for and over things that have shaped my person. And becoming a doctor has done nothing if not shaped me into something new, and hopefully, better.

I feel nostalgic because my training reminds me how much joy is found in unexpected places, including at the end of any given rope. I feel nostalgic because the hard was worth the good, and I would never have guessed that. I feel nostalgic because I've built relationships that can only be built in the trenches. And I'll miss that bonding but not the fire. The fruits but not the labor. I'm grateful that it's done--that I did it--yet sad to see it go. Make sense? Still sorting through it, as you can probably tell.

All I really know is that I'm nearing a very big milestone, and it will be interesting to see where the road goes next.

Thanks for coming along for the ride. :)