April 24, 2012 3 Comments
In the emergency room, Monday is the worst. There’s no way around it. People hold off coming in during the weekend; they hope their symptoms will get better, figure they can hold off just a little longer. And this sentiment begets the Monday afternoon flood of patients – inevitable, painful, never ending. There are some days when things are simply off – today was one of those. My rhythm was broken – in part by an extra person in my critical care area, in part by the patient volume. And so I limped along, feeling as though I was missing something on every patient. There are days like this, I have come to realize. There are days when I find my rhythm easily, get in the groove of things, and then there are days when this breaks down and frustration builds. Unhappy patients who have been waiting hours to be seen does not help the situation. It breeds a highly tense environment, where I feel that I need to first calm people down, then need to care for them properly, and – lastly – to calm myself down. Easier said than done.
The light at the end of the tunnel is here, though. Tomorrow will be my last shift in the emergency department as a third year resident. Hard to believe, really. Only seven more months to go in the coming year, and I will be an attending physician. My blog post on On winter solstice, or becoming real is ever present in my mind and my heart. This is really it. I am savoring every moment left I have with an attending shepherding me, offering his or her insight. And at the same time, I feel as though I am ready – more than ever – to fly. For my patients, I have a strong, growing desire to execute my own plans rather than those of my supervisor. I am ready to be their doctor.
I used to believe that residency was a mountain I needed to climb, and that as soon as I reached the summit, things would become clear. But residency is just a small part of a much larger journey – an uphill climb – continuing to learn, continuing to improve my skills, continuing to question myself. Becoming a doctor is a lifelong process. It requires constant questioning, self-reflection, and yes – even self doubt. To become a good physician is to continue working and learning, day in, day out, year after year.
Because no patient is ever black and white. Each one is gray, with subtleties to their stories that can trick you, trap you, mislead you. The skill and art lies in finessing your skills in interpreting each and every shade of gray, in considering each subtlety, each shadow of doubt that crosses your mind. It lies in continuing, no matter how many years of experience you have, to harbor that fine element of uncertainty, of imperceptible fear, that keeps you on your toes, that keeps you wondering. We doctors will never have all the answers. Thoroughness, experience, compassion, and most of all humility are the best we can offer our patients.