Square Pegs in Round Holes
By Jay Choi
Staff Writer
It’s very easy to go through the third year in medical school being busy – being at the right place at the appropriate time to move pieces of paper around with lines of ink belonging to me and, at times, others who, having paid their dues, can turn the wheels of patient care with their signatures. To add to this busy-ness a large part of the process is spent in flux. Always there is a new team, or a new environment, or a new set of rules to follow.
We see the rapid turnover of residents and students, the shifts of nurses, and the waxing and waning of attending physicians who take turns to shed some light and perspective before retreating to the obscurity of clouds. In this backdrop, it is amazing that patient care not only takes place, but also an experience and at times an education.
Any education begins with asking the right questions, and in the hospital sometimes it is appropriate to ask questions. However, the ones that go unsaid are often the important ones. What can I do to make a difference for this patient? Why are you so mean? I wonder what’s for dinner?
The expectation is that by going through the core set of clinical rotations, some medical students will be able to determine how they want to spend the rest of their careers. Knowledge of different aspects of medicine is gleaned as well as greater insight into the self. Can I be happy doing this? What kind of doctor do I want to become? What makes me happy?
However, can I be trusted to make decisions about my own happiness? In order to reach this point in my life I had to commit myself to temporary hardships and delayed satisfaction.
Through the past few years, I’ve become subtly immersed in a culture where it is OK to forego personal wants and needs at times in order to take care of others.
My conclusion at this point in my life is that happiness is not the presence or absence of certain conditions. Rather it is the response of the heart to the circumstances. One of the most poignant examples I have encountered was a transplant surgeon who admitted that his lifestyle was one of the worst among the surgeons. Yet his response was accompanied with such candid happiness that I was taken aback. It was then that I thought, this man could be happy doing many things.
So despite my anxiety about finding my calling in medicine, I remind myself rather that it is important to enjoy the process, to be patient with others, to show grace because I have experienced much grace, and to take a step back and consider the bigger picture whenever things become ugly. I had great anxiety until I re-evaluated my expectations. As I considered the possibility that my greatest fulfillment might not come from medicine, or that I may not even have a typical medical career, I felt a load lifted from my heart. I may never find what I’m looking for, but it’s OK.
Until the day when things become clearer, greater faith and risk taking.
Jay Choi is a third-year medical student.
This article appeared in the October 8, 2009 issue of Synapse.