I never thought intern year would be this hard.
Scratch that– I did. I knew I wouldn’t know as much as I liked and that I wouldn’t have as much time as I used to. I knew I’d miss home and the people I left behind. Still, it doesn’t make the pressure of trying to improve or the disappointment of not knowing something I read a few hours ago any easier to bare.
There’s this saying that’s going around about the first year:
Fake it until you make it
Not exactly inspiring but I admit that many times keeping composure and sticking to what you know (regardless of how you feel) takes you a certain length of the way. For example regurgitating an order my senior just gave me with some confidence as opposed to meekly whispering it gets things done a lot faster than vice versa. Still it doesn’t feel a whole lot better.
I haven’t written in awhile, mostly because I’ve been frantically reading Up To Date in my spare time or anything else to help me out during my time on the floor. I probably wouldn’t have written this either had I not taken a second to think about a few things:
Firstly, that I began writing in medical school as an outlet. It was a way to free myself from the monotony of the day, step back and take a look at what was going on in my life. Those days weren’t easy either, but having the ability to remove myself from it all, sitting behind a computer screen, helped me sort out what was going on.
Secondly, because writing every now and then connects me with who I am. That sounds real cheesy, but I think it’s easy to lose sight of that when all you’re trying to do is perform better at the hospital. I’ve started to think that the things I used to do that, in a lot of ways, made me feel connected to who I was were becoming wasteful. Especially when I could replace them with studying or doing other work. A friend had this to say:
You’re not just a doctor…you’re a person.
It’s so easy to forget that.