“You can't help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right; but spelling isn't everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn't count.”
- Winnie the Pooh
- Winnie the Pooh
Well, I am alive, and doing well. There is something to be said for both of those facts. How difficult articulating what that something is, depends on what day it is.
I have certainly had a few low points over the last weeks, mostly secondary to working too hard, and a general feeling of not being smart enough, or sometimes, not strong enough.
I have been thinking that medicine might be comparable to motherhood in many ways. I don't know for sure, because so far I only personally know medicine, but from what I see of motherhood, it goes something like this:
Being a mother is a gruelling job. For an indefinite amount of time you put the needs of others before your own, and often you aren't recognized enough for doing this. You shed blood, and sweat, and tears for your cause, and sometimes it seems like you are doing so for no, or little gain. You are sleep deprived, and out of shape, and sometimes it is all you can do to feed yourself enough to make it through the day. And you need help. You are always wondering if you are good enough at it, and second guessing decisions you are making, and trying to evaluate if you should be more or less like other mothers. sometimes it will be years before you understand the consequences of any particular action, and often you will never know how you have changed the lives of those who you are responsible for. And just when you think that all of this adds up to something too overwhelming to manage, your child flashes their dimply little smile, comes to you in tears for comfort they trust you to provide, or shares with you something they are proud of, and you are proud of, and your motivations become clear to you again. Heck, you wonder why you don't want to have a hundred more.
I had a particular day, actually, 2 days I guess, just over two weeks ago, that was chalk full of success. A "TSN turning point" as some people might label it. Finally blogging about it, I am going to count as another point in the positivity column. Check.
Anyway, on one giant day, I celebrated the following three successes.
One: a man with terminal stomach cancer, that I had been taking care of for almost two weeks smiled at me. He didn't quite say thank-you, but almost. This is a guy who, for the twelve or so days before, had endearingly referred to me as "the meanie" in a monotone voice, with actually no hint of a smile. If the hospital was the Hundred Acre Woods, this man would be Eeyore. Turns out he did appreciate me coming in to torture him everyday after all.
Two: at 2am during my night on call, I performed a successful lumbar puncture (spinal tap) entirely by myself. No one was even watching me. It was the first time I was successful, and the first time I had been by myself.
Three: I made greeting cards with Trish. Just an hour and a half of paper, and scissors, and glue (and Trish). Bliss.
And so it goes.
I have certainly had a few low points over the last weeks, mostly secondary to working too hard, and a general feeling of not being smart enough, or sometimes, not strong enough.
I have been thinking that medicine might be comparable to motherhood in many ways. I don't know for sure, because so far I only personally know medicine, but from what I see of motherhood, it goes something like this:
Being a mother is a gruelling job. For an indefinite amount of time you put the needs of others before your own, and often you aren't recognized enough for doing this. You shed blood, and sweat, and tears for your cause, and sometimes it seems like you are doing so for no, or little gain. You are sleep deprived, and out of shape, and sometimes it is all you can do to feed yourself enough to make it through the day. And you need help. You are always wondering if you are good enough at it, and second guessing decisions you are making, and trying to evaluate if you should be more or less like other mothers. sometimes it will be years before you understand the consequences of any particular action, and often you will never know how you have changed the lives of those who you are responsible for. And just when you think that all of this adds up to something too overwhelming to manage, your child flashes their dimply little smile, comes to you in tears for comfort they trust you to provide, or shares with you something they are proud of, and you are proud of, and your motivations become clear to you again. Heck, you wonder why you don't want to have a hundred more.
I had a particular day, actually, 2 days I guess, just over two weeks ago, that was chalk full of success. A "TSN turning point" as some people might label it. Finally blogging about it, I am going to count as another point in the positivity column. Check.
Anyway, on one giant day, I celebrated the following three successes.
One: a man with terminal stomach cancer, that I had been taking care of for almost two weeks smiled at me. He didn't quite say thank-you, but almost. This is a guy who, for the twelve or so days before, had endearingly referred to me as "the meanie" in a monotone voice, with actually no hint of a smile. If the hospital was the Hundred Acre Woods, this man would be Eeyore. Turns out he did appreciate me coming in to torture him everyday after all.
Two: at 2am during my night on call, I performed a successful lumbar puncture (spinal tap) entirely by myself. No one was even watching me. It was the first time I was successful, and the first time I had been by myself.
Three: I made greeting cards with Trish. Just an hour and a half of paper, and scissors, and glue (and Trish). Bliss.
And so it goes.
