Typing Away

It’s interesting how I always believed that being a doctor would mean I would be indoctrinated into a club forever- the infamous “doctor society” imbued with the expectation of receiving life-long respect and privilege. My co-residents would be my family growing with me as we become seasoned attendings and I would finally find a home away from home. While wisdom has taught me to question anything too good to be true, on some level I believed that the proverbial “community of doctors” would bring more good to my life compared to where I was before I started this journey.

I was typing away, looking busy on my laptop in the corner of a crowded room, while on break between didactic lectures. Even though the noise level alone would suffice to prove otherwise, I felt like a lonely outsider. I made eye-contact when appropriate, nodded during right points in distant conversations, and smiled with my eyes along the way (as masks continue to remain a mandate). While checking off a few small things on my to-do list, I recall scanning the room and observing the different interactions- the hugs, the side conversations, the compliments, the laughter, the discussions- all that was going on in this full space marveling at the fact that I still felt unseen.

I am fortunate to be in a program that is not malignant, but I would be lying if there weren’t moments I felt alone. There hasn’t been a single resident who has disrespected me in any way, but I also don’t have the dream family I had hoped for. Sometimes, it feels like a job where everyone is figuring life out for themselves. Other times, it seems that others are subtly attempting to outdo you, while pretending to look out for you. There are even moments I wonder, who would really stand up for me in my absence? Would anyone actually defend me in situations where I was being thrown under the bus?

Thinking about this deeper, part of the reason I feel this way is on the culture of medicine as a whole which extends beyond the program itself. The other part of it, however, is on me.

Training in medicine has been a pressure cooker, to put it nicely, and perhaps it’s natural for me to hope for pockets of safety along the way. The stress of bearing the pain and suffering of others while also wielding the responsibility to make decisions that could potentially impact their overall well-being for years (if not a lifetime) is not an easy one to carry. Why not have the opportunity to bond in healthy ways with those who can truly understand the gravity of this commitment? Why not expect that those who understand the demand of medicine also be the same ones to understand me?

With introspection, I’ve realized that my personal needs- those met and unmet- are a part of my experience and are playing a role in my dream and expectation that I would find a home in medicine. The need to be accepted, the desire to feel safe, the longing to be a part of a community, and the intuitive confirmation that someone would always have my back are all healthy and necessary parts of life that sometimes I do not take the time to nurture. The demanding pressures of 3rd year with the added bonus of needing to figure out the next steps can offer a tempting excuse to further neglect tending to those needs.

So what do I do? Do I continue to sit in my corner, typing away, watching everything behind the scenes?

As comfortable as that is for me to do most days, I have come to understand that there are moments I need to step out of my comfort zone. I do not make this decision with the expectation that a switch will go off and I will have the medical family I desire; instead, I am moving forward with the intention of make every moment of my life (even through residency) count in ways that are meaningful to me.

Unfortunately, these things cannot be forced. There are people I have in my life right now who are truly a gift; most of which were encounters I never planned for. I appreciate those I have and those I know. And during the moments that, despite my best effort, I feel I don’t fit in, I can lean on the comfort of always belonging in the hearts of those I love.