Sunday, August 21st, 2011
I want to start off by congratulating most of the Trainee Interns on their job placements. For those of you who, for various reasons, are still waiting for an offer or have other significant personal decisions to be made, I want to reassure you that it will all work out. Trust me, I’m a doctor!
As I congratulate those who are nearing the end of their medical school journey (where I was a mere twelve months ago), it seems a good place to end THIS journey of mine. I never intended for this blog to go on for as long as it has. I feel blessed to have been able to encourage all those whose first step into doctorhood awaits. During my first three months on the job I couldn’t recognise the person I was, the person I had become, the person this job had made me. Yet like all things in life, like I have said from the beginning, “This too will pass.” My lowest was the truest low I have experienced but (in the fear of sounding trite) I am glad to have gone through it, if only so that I can tell you that I DID get through it.
Life is good. With my two busiest runs, General Medicine and General Surgery, behind me, I have just finished what turned out to be a surprisingly fun Geriatrics attachment and now have three weeks of leave! I make adult money, and at this moment, I am getting paid for being home and sleeping in. There really are upsides to becoming a “proper” adult! Best of all, reflecting on the year nearly gone, I have grown so much in the doctor that I am, the doctor I am continuing to become.
My favourite part of my First Year has been slowly developing my own style, my own flavour, to this work. The amazing thing is that we can choose the kind of doctor we want to be. With what adjectives do I aspire to be described by those around me, by patients, their families and by other staff? Loving, joyful, patient, kind, gentle, efficient but thorough, confident but humble… I believe in the power of a human touch, in a hand that is held; I believe in our position of power and, with that, the importance of a lower bedside vantage point; I believe in the importance of communication, for, much like a tree that falls in a forest with no one to hear it, can healing fully occur without a patient understanding what we have done for them? Regardless of what speciality we enter, each of us has the power to choose what kind of doctor we will be at the most fundamental level. And this starts in our First Year.
What memories will stay with me as I look back on this experience? My first long day when I called up the senior registrar to ask what I should do about a febrile intellectually disabled patient who refused to let me examine him. (The forty minutes of angst leading up to the call, only to get a reply of, “What do you expect me to do about it?”) Holding the Resus pager once when it went off thirteen times, physically spanning the entirety of Middlemore! Walking across the bridge over the train station every morning, staring out at the train-tracks fading into the distance and wondering how far away in the world my credit card could realistically take me. Standing next to Mr A in Theatre, holding his hand as he was put to sleep, smiling back at his last sweet smile to me… and the heartbreak I felt when I heard of his arrest the next day. The endless faces of the LOLs (= little old ladies) who shuffled their walking frames out of my ward with a smile and a wave, and the “eureka!” moment that followed when I realised the Laws of the House of God really are ALL TRUE.
I survived my First Year. It was truly touch and go there for a while, but I made it.
And so will you.
It is the ultimate Rite of Passage for us doctors, and at the end of your First Year you too will have a repository of memories – funny, intense, heartbreaking, breath-taking memories – that you will replay in your mind like scenes from a movie and think back to with fondness. Even the shitiest of moments. Because they all played a part in making you the doctor you are.
And as your first year comes to an end you will start to realise that the world truly is your oyster. The advice I want to give you is this: grab the world by its metaphorical kahunas, get creative, and make it your own. There is so much freedom in second year. You can do research (part-time, full-time), join the armed forces, do a diploma or Masters or a PhD (for those of you who can stomach the commitment), travel (but come back!), go to Australia or the U.S. to work (but come back!), volunteer, apply for a training programme, write a novel… or all of the above!
Earlier this year one of my General Surgery consultants shared with me a quote by a famous Theologian, F. Buechner, that has stayed with me. “A person’s vocation – their calling – is the intersection of their greatest happiness and the world’s greatest need.” In our profession there is a need for everything, so the question that remains is, what is your greatest happiness?
Good night, and good luck.
From my heart to yours,
- A
Acknowledgements: Oliver Hansby, for the idea; James Tan, for breathing into it life; and NZMSA for graciously allowing my words to be immortalised on their slice of cyberspace and, with that, to be shared with the eternal Void.
