xii
prev.cont.Today I met a patient in labor. She's exactly one day younger than me. I talked to her and her husband for a while. It felt like an actual conversation, like we could all be ourselves, like we were all fully present, on the same page, in good spirits. It must’ve been because of the impending baby.
At the end of the conversation, she asked if "this" (gesturing at her inflated belly) is what I want to do. I said it’s funny she should ask because I’m in the midst of un petit identity crisis and might not want to do any of "this" (gesturing at the whole room). She was confused. I would be a good doctor, she said, and she enjoyed having me around.
“I know it’s hard,” her husband said, “but you should keep going. At least you’re not just smoking pot all day.”
I don’t know if I can keep going, though. I got excited earlier when I thought I was having a stroke. That doesn't seem like a good sign.
After work I hung out with a few of my classmates. Pretty quickly, we started talking about our experiences of the weird year so far. We agreed that the medical system isn’t working for anyone. Patients, doctors, nurses, anyone. When I suggested disassembling and rebuilding the system, one classmate said that he’d have no part in that. He’s not interested in joining the band of thieves who will initiate the dramatic changes we need to fix the system. He’s worked hard to get here and will continue to work hard for the rest of his career, so he’s not comfortable with upending the system that promises him a living wage further down the line. "I deserve to be compensated more than pennies,” he said.
I asked him to consider the fact that the current system, in its not-workingness, will likely crumble on its own. What if we were tasked with building something new from the rubble? He said he would help out on the condition that he could still live “comfortably.” My other classmates agreed.
I offered to do it myself: assemble the band of thieves and burn it all down. They said they'd rally behind me. I couldn’t tell if we were joking.
The idea of practicing medicine within the current system doesn't appeal to me. I'm not even a doctor yet, but sometimes I feel so physically exhausted that it feels like I can’t go on. I do go on, though, because I have to.
Maybe that should be my philosophy going forward: go on, because you have to. Just keep going. Work hard enough that you don’t have time to think about how much you hate it. Even if you have to do it with your eyes closed, you can do it. And at least you're not just smoking pot all day.
exit