Day 14: Dreams and Such

I can't believe I've hit the official two week mark.  I can't believe I've had the honor to learn and be part of this field.  I never dreamed that this is where I would be or this is what it would feel like.  Today, I had the chance to talk with medical students about new and different ways to communicate with patients as well as how to take care of themselves.  One of the things that we discussed was recognizing the hidden curriculum and how to address when someone's cynicism goes too far and spills over into patient care.  It was a raw and important conversation that we rarely have.  We tell medical students to "do things to prevent burn out", but we don't truly talk about what that means.  There's little conversation about how to recognize burn out, and how to compassionately approach our colleagues who become cynical and unsympathetic.  We aren't given concrete ways to address our concerns for ourselves and others without being made to feel inferior.  If we are to improve as a whole, we need to be able to recognize emotional burn out in ourselves and others, and feel safe in reaching out a helping hand.  We need to be able to have ready access to resources for our comrades.  If we can't care for our own, how can we expect to work as a team to care for others.  I think today, I figured out what my focus will be going forward.  I want to create a curriculum to actually teach people how to be resilient in medicine, and how to help promote self-care in themselves and others.  How to recognize a faltering colleague and help bolster them rather than assume they'll know how to help themselves.  I guess it's time to start the curriculum research...

On a completely different tangent, I had a strange dream last night.  Most of the time, I confer too much meaning to my dreams, but this one cut a little more deep than others.  Last year, one of my friends from medical school, Kay*, committed suicide.  It was devastating.  Last night, I dreamt I was at a baseball field with the rest of the group we hung out with at medical school.  Every time I'd turn around to talk to one of my friends, I'd see Kay in the background.  I'd get excited, and tell the other girls I was with, but by the time they'd turn around, it would be someone else.  Kay never approached us, but I saw her three or four times in the crowd behind us.  I'd get so excited thinking that she was still alive, that it was progressively more heart-breaking each time it turned out to be a false alarm.  I think this is a reminder that her loss will be with me for the rest of my life, that I still wish she were here because she was such a great doctor.  I miss her dearly.

*Her name has been changed for the sake of her privacy.