“I wish you a great future”, then she gave me her hand - similar to a peace offering. She had a simple case of a stomach ulcer, I had patched her up around 3am in our ER, I had simply asked her if there had been any unusual stress in her life lately, to which she replied “I had kids too early, I wish I had done more with my life”. I could feel the courage-fuel she was burning while saying these words. I didn’t give her any speech. Just admiration, and a small part of me smirked at my childhood hoping my mother had realized that sooner. Well, she didn’t. I made my life’s mission to become exactly the opposite of her. As I typed in another ER report for the 27-year-old sitting next to me, I came to an uncomfortable realization: how not often patients wish us anything at all, like we’re not people, like we don’t have feelings. She had wished me as much as a great future - that’s a lot. I hope she knows that’s exactly what I wished her, too. Truth is, I felt like my emotional energy couldn’t stand up to patient’s needs, it wasn’t enough, it would never be: I’d get tired, I’m only a person, and you’re emotional vampires, I’d think. How can’t anyone see that?
Fast forward many weeks: I had no idea how I was lying on the floor, I could hear a high pitched beep in my years. Had I just been unconscious? I saw my bike laying somewhere on the sidewalk. There was pain, too. Where the hell is the helmet? We went to the ER as I admitted to myself being a patient was many things, but most of all meant not to have, even for a brief second, control over your existence. I had none now. So much blood. Now, I got a crappy doctor. I observed his moves for the two minutes he took to examine me. Not for one minute I disclosured I was also a doctor. I simply wanted to know how everyone else was treated, as in, let’s make this a fair race. It was disaster, and as things got increasingly worse with me fainting home the next day, I knew I needed to go back to the ER. I gave the same hospital another chance. I didn’t open my mouth about being a doctor until the very end this time - I wanted the fair ride, again. This one other doctor in the same ER had not only done the x-ray (which the doctor the day before thought was unnecessary, just some scratches, he said), and a full trauma assessment. And as I had my patient moments I realized: we must, as doctors, know how much strength it takes to owning up to not controlling your existence. It is an act of bravery for most to show up at your ER. Who knows, maybe the great future is coming up soon. For the meantime, just being able to walk wihtout feeling like I’m exercising would be nice enough.
Thank you, crutches, for the support, literally.
Fast forward many weeks: I had no idea how I was lying on the floor, I could hear a high pitched beep in my years. Had I just been unconscious? I saw my bike laying somewhere on the sidewalk. There was pain, too. Where the hell is the helmet? We went to the ER as I admitted to myself being a patient was many things, but most of all meant not to have, even for a brief second, control over your existence. I had none now. So much blood. Now, I got a crappy doctor. I observed his moves for the two minutes he took to examine me. Not for one minute I disclosured I was also a doctor. I simply wanted to know how everyone else was treated, as in, let’s make this a fair race. It was disaster, and as things got increasingly worse with me fainting home the next day, I knew I needed to go back to the ER. I gave the same hospital another chance. I didn’t open my mouth about being a doctor until the very end this time - I wanted the fair ride, again. This one other doctor in the same ER had not only done the x-ray (which the doctor the day before thought was unnecessary, just some scratches, he said), and a full trauma assessment. And as I had my patient moments I realized: we must, as doctors, know how much strength it takes to owning up to not controlling your existence. It is an act of bravery for most to show up at your ER. Who knows, maybe the great future is coming up soon. For the meantime, just being able to walk wihtout feeling like I’m exercising would be nice enough.
Thank you, crutches, for the support, literally.
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