Remembrance

Remembrance

Your hands easy

weight, teasing the bees

hived in my hair, your smile at the

slope of my cheek. On the

occasion, you press

above me, glowing, spouting

readiness, mystery rapes

my reason

When you have withdrawn

your self and the magic, when

only the smell of your

love lingers between

my breasts, then, only

then, can I greedily consume

your presence.

This was the first poem I read by Maya Angelou in 7^th grade for my poetry project.  At the time I was naïve enough to have missed the meaning of the poem entirely, and was entranced by the simplicity of the language and the beauty of the imagery.  Once my English teacher enlightened me of the deeper meaning beyond a woman being overwhelmed with love (the emotion not the act) of a man, I began my journey into the world of poetry and writing as a way to work through the events of life that seemed to stop me in my tracks.  Both positive and negative moments were dissected for understanding through writing.  I kept journals; I blogged; I went to as many writing classes as I could over the years.  Through this poem, I became entrenched in writing as both a form of release as well as a way to reach greater clarity of the world I worked and lived in.  Maya Angelou was and remains my ultimate inspiration as a writer.

I had the honor of sitting not six feet from Maya Angelou and hear her speak to my second year medical school class.  To say the experience was overwhelming, awe-inspiring, one to scratch off the bucket list would all be understatement.  It was one of those times when meeting an idol, time seems to move slower and faster at the same time.  It was the spark I needed to begin writing again.  Unfortunately, step 1 and third year thwarted my efforts.  I did carry her words with me, the task of remaining a rainbow in the clouds to provide hope to those who felt all was lost, the wayward ship turned around in the open ocean.  Those words rung more and more true the longer I was in the clinical setting, finding that I felt most impassioned to care for the sickest and the dying.

Time stopped for a split second the day I found out Dr. Angelou had passed away.  She was such a formidable character, a stronghold in my life, she seemed immortal.  How could she join the ranks of so many people I had seen and helped pass on over this year? It was incomprehensible.  And yet time clicks on, and just like my Grammy Lou, her final words to me have become a beacon of light in the darkness intern year can be at times.  And just like my Grammy Lou, I only hope I can do their charges to me honor and justice.  I only hope I can embody the high regard they hold for me, the heady task they set forth.  One a goal of being happy all the rest of my days, the other a challenge to remain the beacon of light in others’ lives, a steadfast reminder to those I care for that I will stand by through the toils and be a guide to higher grounds in whatever capacity that may be.  I only pray I can be the woman that let’s these other phenomenal women live on after death.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Being in medicine is a strange situation.  There are parts of it that anyone off the street would understand.  We talk to people all the time.  Spend a good amount of time on the phone with colleagues discussing interesting cases to get new insight.  Even more time is spent in front of computers doing paperwork, charting each move and decision.  It frankly isn't always that exciting, certainly not like it appears on TV.

But there are parts that if most people heard about would be appalled.  It is strange, medieval at times.  We do things that would get most anyone else put in jail.  From jabbing needles into people to remove fluids (akin to draining the bad humors) to actively putting new fluids into them through lines in their arms.  We slice people people open and remove infection, cancer, irritants.  We convince people that the things we are doing are the best possible options for them to be better, feel better, live more happily and healthily.  Such a strange little set-up we have.  Sometimes I'm in awe that people are so trusting of the things I say and ask them to do.

Forgiveness

The loose thread hangs bare, vulnerable
I see it there
I try to forget it; let it be
I can't
I pick
It unravels

I find another loose thread, at the edge
I know I shouldn't pull it
I want to let it be
I can't
I pick
It unravels

I find each thread
Each imperfection
I need to let them be
I can't
I pick
My self-assurance unravels

Now it's just a pile of threads
Loose yarn on the floor
I want to knit it back together
I can't
I sit
I slowly unravel

Sometimes I have a knack for pulling on every loose thread in my being until I unravel like a sweater and am about as useful as a pile of yarn, lacking form or function.  I wish this weren't the case.  I wish the confidence I seem to exude wasn't a farce, an act.  I want to understand how to forgive myself, and let the imperfections be.  I want to be able to grow and learn without constantly second guessing myself at every turn, every decision.

19 of 19

Body aches,
Brain fatigue.
Constant pain of thinking
That you've missed something,
Done something wrong.

Can you provide hope
When you feel lost yourself?
Can you provide peace
When you are in turmoil?
Who has the answers?

Even without the answers,
I can hold a dying woman's hand.
I can hug her children.
I can stand by their side,
And sense the pain they are feeling.

I can let them know I am here;
I am here for them.
At this point,
I feel like I have nothing
Else to offer.

It’s the Final Countdown…

Today was the first day of orientation for my intern year of residency.  It was fantastic!  We went on a team-building/ropes course excursion.  Needless to say, I was kind of glad that most of the events were on the ground except for two.  But I did those two (mostly).  I think it’s an accomplishment that I was even hanging out 20 feet above the ground with nothing between me and it but the air (other than the tethers holding me up for when I fell).

Our mentor/leader was great.  She really made sure that we were safe and comfortable with what we were getting ready to do.  She also made sure that we each had a voice and that we participated, were thoughtful and worked together through each activity.  Besides hanging out above ground, we did a couple trust building exercises, activities that forced us to work as a team and made us think, communicate and collaborate.  It was a very active day that my legs are quite upset about.

I loved my team.  I think that the small group will be my “venting” group for the next year.  Basically, the group that I will meet with periodically, along with a facilitator, to make sure everyone is happy, healthy, and not burnt out.  I’m excited.  I think we worked well together and really relaxed into supporting and cheering each other on.  I’m excited to know that these people will be my personal cheerleaders over the next year, and I will be able to be theirs.  It’s an awesome way to begin a relatively daunting year.  It will be a lot of work, stressful at times, a huge learning curve, but man do I have an awesome group of people to now call colleagues and friends.  I couldn’t ask for a better group of interns to start my medical career with.  Onward and upward!!

On Medicine

In death, we must learn to celebrate life.  That, I think is the biggest thing I have learned in the past two years: in death, we must learn to celebrate life.  I have now been to the funerals of two children that I have cared for, both under the age of 15.  It doesn’t get easier.  Although I won’t be going into pediatrics, I will still remember these children.  They will be part of who I am for a very, very long time.  The pain I felt for them, I will remember each time a patient dies.  They are all like family.  It doesn’t matter how old or young.  All have family and friends that love them, have memories with them, had imagined their future.  I have fallen into that as well at times, and that’s okay; that’s good.  I may not always be able to become as strongly a member of a patient’s life and family, but I can always be empathetic for the families that are going through very difficult times.  I will try to always be understanding and compassionate and empathetic.  There’s not much else I can truly promise as a doctor except to give fully and do the best I can with what I know and have to offer.

The End

It’s finally here.  A day I’ve been waiting for since before I started medical school.  I always dreamed of my hooding.  The bright emerald green pendants on my black regalia.  A soft cap instead of the undergrad mortarboard.  The soft velvet green of the hood with the gold and black lining signifying that Wake Forest is presenting me with my doctorate of medicine.  The weight of that hood carries more than just the material it’s made of.  The hood signifies the honor, responsibility, pride and humility I will carry with my career.  I cannot begin to describe how much this moment means to me.

But there’s a sadness as well.  Some of the people who have become more like family over the past four years will be moving to bigger cities further away to continue their training.  I remember vividly that first day we all arrived for orientation.  The fear and anxiety.  I didn’t really know where I was or where I was going.  And then I sat down at a table with a girl wearing the exact same color shirt as me (a feat seeing as it was teal) and a girl who had been through this once before, who had lived in Winston for the past five years.  In that moment I knew that as long as we were in it together, we could manage anything sent our way.  Second year brought in new friends to our circle.  One in particular a somewhat shy but giggly girl from California.  She and I have gotten each other through everything since then.  We rotated together through all the third year clinicals.  I say with my heart of hearts that she is as much my family as my own sister.  I love her dearly, and it breaks my heart to think how far away she will be come Tuesday.  The entire United States to be exact.  I can only wait for the day that we have vacations that coincide so I can see her again, and see where she grew up.

It will be a shock the first day of residency when I walk through the doors of my beloved hospital and see so many new faces, but so few of my comrades.  I can’t believe that this is the last weekend that we all will be together as a whole.

Facelift

I have been meaning to update the look of the blog for quite some time.  I wanted the appearance to be airy and fun yet fit with the theme of the blog.  So, here it is!  Colorful circles in a soft green background.  Hopefully it won’t detract from the gravity of some of the posts that either have been added in the past or will be added in the future.  I’ve had relatively the same blog set-up and background since most likely before the beginning of medical school.  With all of the deaths and loss and brokenness of the past week, I needed something to brighten up the atmosphere.  It’s been an unbelievable week.  I’m praying that this is rock bottom and we can only go up now.

Loss

It's amazing how reality can take and overpower you, even if that reality involves people you never knew and  a world of people you've only touched briefly.  So much pain and suffering has touched the very protected world of my medical school.  We started the week reeling from the loss of a beloved member of our school family.  A girl I had never known, yet from all I could see was a beautiful, intelligent, artistic and athletic individual.  She was overcome by a pain so great, she could no longer live with it.  I hurt so deeply knowing that one of my family was carrying this pain, this hurt, and did not know where to turn.  I can only hope that she now knows how loved she is, how she can do no wrong, and how is she never alone.  If only those messages had reached her earlier or that she had had the ability to hear these messages and known them to be true.  I cannot fathom what deep, deep sadness and loneliness she had felt last Friday.  I can only see how deeply she had touched all the people she had met in her lifetime, how deeply loved she truly was, and how confused and lost we all are trying to comprehend and cope with such a loss in our tight knit family at our medical school.  Even those of us who did not know her are moved by this shocking event and are left wondering how we can reach out and help.

Our pain, loss, and sadness were deepened further by disturbing images from the Boston Marathon on Monday which have only worsened as the week has continued.  The Boston Marathon is a crowning event of athleticism and sportsmanship.  The individual runners are amazing people with such talents I can only imagine.  The on-lookers, the greatest show of support I know.  The crowds cheer on and motivate each runner that passes them.  All sports events are unrivaled showings of connection.  Here we have the epitome of human beauty, human nature, and it is muddied, destroyed, torn apart by two men who had long ago been part of such camaraderie   Each man had once been an athlete, had been a vital part of the community, cheered on, just like the runners on Monday.  Then, without warning, the finish line was left in shambles, destroyed by homemade bombs created by two men who made a choice to cause widespread pain and misery.  Had they too suffered an unfathomable pain, one they could no longer hold in their chests, carrying alone, feeling like they had no one to turn to?  Were these men so indoctrinated at some point in the very near past to feel that the only release of this pain was through mass casualties of strangers?  It is incomprehensible.

To make matters worse, this initial shock of the bombings was compounded by the full-on manhunt through Boston that began early Wednesday evening.  The suspects flaunting the choices they had made.  The shutdown of a great city, overtaken by marshal law while the remaining suspect is on the loose.  It is horrifying to watch the images of house by house searches.  I can't feel the same fear and pain those in Boston are going through, the psychological damage that has been caused.  I can empathize.  I can suffer with humanity because I am part of it.  We are all connected.  I am paralyzed by what is replayed on the television.  I want to react, to help, to reach out, to protect.  But I am powerless.

I don't know where to start.  I feel so raw and exposed, but at the same time know that my feelings are only a fraction of what those in the crossfire are feeling.  I can only sit and watch.  I want to take action.  Maybe this is how I'm meant to do that.  We are all connected, and the pain we cause others causes our soul pain, too.  We are given the freedom to make choices for ourselves.  Whatever choices those may be, we will be held accountable be it in life or after death.  Regardless of any individual's beliefs, we all are connected through the understanding of a divine being that loves us unconditionally, who created us but left us free to make decisions for ourselves, and who will allow us redemption through self-reflection.  We must band together, care for each other, and love each other deeply and unconditionally in the image of our Creators in order to maintain the greatest calling of humanity.  We are one and always will be.

Change

The past few days have been spent with my physical life in complete disarray.  The house was pulled apart, shuffled around, repainted, new fixtures, electrical work.  You name it, it was probably done in the last 72 hours.  And the final product is pretty stunning, I must say.  The guest bathroom is all but done.  I just need to earn some extra money to buy the faucet that matches the rest of the hardware we installed.  The dining room has chair molding with a gorgeous golden color underneath that all but makes the dining room furnishings glow with new life.  I'm itching to complete the rest of the upgrades which will probably take a year or so, slowly working through one project at the time.  But I digress from the real purpose of this post (sadly, no pictures included).

During the repaint job on my bedroom, I had to spend a night sleeping on my bed pulled out in the center of the room.  It's amazing how different it feels knowing that no side is safe.  When the bed is against the wall, we have this sense of security knowing that our head is protected, that behind is nothing to worry about.  A nice tall wall guarding us, leaving us only with sides and the foot to worry about.  In the center of the room, it is jarring.  Here you are with every side exposed.  It's unnerving.  I laid there,  looking at the fan, feeling somewhat uneasy.  How strange, right?  There I was, in my own bed, in my own room, in my own house.  The only difference was the positioning of my bed, and yet it completely threw me off.

The strangest part, is that even after my bed has been put back against the wall, my room back to its original  set-up, I still wake up with the sensation that my bed is in the center of the room.  I have to completely wake up to reassure myself that the room is back in its original set-up.  Maybe this sensation is my brain trying to come to terms with the other changes that are coming.  The uneasy sensation is the only way my mind can understand how to show that things will be changed around soon.

The interesting part is that even with the uneasiness, the off-kilter sensation, it's not painful or completely unwanted.  It is there, and I acknowledge it, and I it, but it's not so overwhelming that I overreact.  It's a strange sensation, but it certainly isn't killing me.  And I continue on to the next day, moving closer to the next stage of what will become the rest of my life.  And I think I can be okay with it...at least for right now.  Next week might be different as the reality becomes more tangible.