Continuing Through

Can you believe it is already the end of November? Thanksgiving has come and gone (though not too far past yet), and I am just now pausing for the slightest of breaths before plowing full speed into the three weeks of cardiopulmonary before Christmas. It has been a whirlwind, that is for certain. In four months, we have completed four science modules and two doctoring courses. We have learned what happens in the first five weeks of development, the intricate insanity of what our cells are doing right now to keep us in energy, how our genes define our phyisicality, and the name of the muscles that flex our big toes. We have also learned to take social histories and what being a physician really means. I don't think I have ever studied so much in my life. Sundays before the exam have become twelve-hour marathons in the library complete with microwavable soups and three cups of tea. I've even started to like coffee (provided, of course, that it is at least half milk...). There is always that thought for a balance, but learning how to find it and then maintain it is something that is continually in progress. Thus far, I think I've done ok. And I am blessed to have marvelous friends who will make sure I do anyway. :)

Inspired by a fellow medical student and Fulbrighter from Vanderbilt, I will share with you some of the beautiful things that keep me going. On Sundays (provided of course they are not the Sunday prior to a Monday exam), I get together with a group of friends, some of whom are medical students and some of whom are not, and we share dinner. Someone cooks, I often bake, and we just enjoy it--and my friend Allie reprimands us if we talk about school too much. On Wednesdays, I am a part of a small Bible study, with people from all classes. We have dinner, sing, and just give an hour to focus on God, and that is simply lovely. It's an oasis, no matter the week. Saturdays, I volunteer at a place that is essentially an inpatient facility, taking on homeless patients that are in need of consistent medical care (and also provides them spiritual direction and substance abuse counseling). Working there allows me to leave the Georgetown bubble, to get out in the world and feel like I am being slightly of use. I have been there four or five weeks now, and a lot of the men know me now. It is beautiful to catch their smiles. Some talk to me, share bits of their stories, and I admire them all. One has no teeth and consistently makes me smile. Another looked at me and told me over and over how as a doctor, I will be making life or death decisions for my patients, and then he paused, and said "but I think you'll be good at it." And still yet another, a younger gentleman, makes me happy because he reminds me of four or five patients from Trinidad who I love dearly. If thinking of Trinidad isn't enough to consistently remind me why I am doing this, these men certainly are.

It's a privilege to be here. Some nights, as I walk home amid the trees glowing colored in the street lights, up to my tenth-floor apartment with a view of the National Cathedral, I am simply in awe. I can't believe that I live in Washington, DC, in this beautiful area, and I can't believe that in three and a half years, I will be a doctor. Sometimes it seems I need to wake up from this dream. It's really amazing. I know this is where I am supposed to be, and I am doing what I need to. While interviewing a patient with a friend for a class, the patient he interviewed told us "when I get sick, I put myself in God's hands, and He puts me in yours" (as doctors). I am humbled, and if that doesn't make medicine a calling, I don't know what does.