#533

Lately I've been embarking on something I'd like to call the "life project." I'm not sure I feel comfortable writing about the details of my project, but it sure would make for some rich material. In any event, I think I'm getting my mojo back.

I finished Step 3 today - the final in a series of exams medical students and residents must pass in order to get their license. I'm a bit nervous about how I did (but aren't all perfectionists?) even though I know this test has a 95% pass rate. It's nice to have a milestone (or what feels like one) in the middle of a three year slog. (Indeed, I will be passing the halfway-through-residency mark in the next month!) I spent the whole subway ride home today contemplating how exciting it was that I will soon get my medical license (just have to pass the damn test and submit my paperwork - and a fat check - to the NY State Medical Board). It felt almost as exciting as my white coat ceremony during my first week of medical school or matching into residency or graduating, even. Maybe even more so because I was reflecting on this milestone today, alone. In any event, it is poignant.

I dreamt my whole life of becoming a doctor, something I kept silent and to myself for many years. One day I decided to open up the Pandora's Box and discover what was inside a life in medicine. For sure, there are days that none of it seems worth it. But then the "life project" starts to take hold and you remember the parents who insist on taking your picture with their newborn baby since you are now "their child's doctor," or the sacred moments you've had with children who've died, or seeing that fragile preemie as a comedic 15 month old, and you realize, reading through endless words on a computer screen while hoping you're making the right choice (is it answer a or c? or maybe d?) that maybe you even love these fake patients. Maybe you care about their simulated outcomes. Maybe that's why you get out of bed every morning, because you love people and patients so much that you just can't wait to see what happened to them overnight.

Maybe I'm feeling whimsical again. I just might have to hang this banner on my door.

(Source, found via A Cup of Jo)

I think my friend, Hez, gets it, too.

(And I may hate prime numbers, but happy 11/11/11 day.)