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Why am I a Doctor?

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  Many events over the last few years, have me wondering why I chose medicine. It is a tough job but one that I embraced with all of my heart as a new doctor. I started this blog to try and document my love for the job and I tell you, I loved pouring out my heart on the pages of the world wide web. But (I know, one does not start a sentence with a but) the last few years have been brutal. I was speaking with a colleague and friend last week about not finding joy in my job as a physician and he was in shock. He asked what I felt when a patient with a poor prognosis does well and I had to truthfully respond that I felt nothing. I only feel the loss keenly when my patient dies, but when they do well, I do not have any euphoric feelings, or feelings of accomplishment that my coming to work that day had anything to do with it. I have been missing from this blog for a few years and even when I came back 3 years ago, I did not have the strength or joy to fill its pages and I know why. M
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CULTURE SHOCK COMMENTS

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 I posted the link to my culture shock II article on various forums I belong to and I got a number of responses I would like to share here. It was interesting to note that my experience was not unique to me and even certain geographic differences existed with respect to greeting. I think one sentiment that is unique to all the comments I received was that the 'no greeting' part of the culture rankled the most. As a friend put it-  ''This is where the French differ. For them, greeting is a way of acknowledging the humanity of the next person. You cannot not acknowledge a person; it is a faux pas.'' Another friend said- "You talk and laugh with a colleague one day...the next day, you wave at them from across the walkway....and they look right past you... GEEZ!!!!.  How does one live a life without "greeting" or at least a form of acknowledgement.... I'm still not used to it....😒" Other comments: "These are things I have experienced. T
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CULTURE SHOCK II

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 I first wrote about culture shock here  twelve years ago when I came as a student to the US for the very first time. And even after all this time, there are still things that shock me, even when I think I have assimilated into a culture very different from the one I was brought up in. I'll go back twelve years and then fast forward to present times. I arrived in Boston at the end of summer and thankfully got accommodation not too far from school which meant I could walk to school and did not have to commute. It also meant that I passed by people on the street every day and as a typical 'yoruba' gal greeted them with a cheery good morning. The first few times when my greeting was not acknowledged, I thought I had not greeted loud enough for me to be heard, so I changed the cadence of my voice which resulted in the exact same response- silence. It took me a while before I stopped instinctively greeting every being I passed on my way to school, but a few months later I had ad
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Thanksgiving

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 O that men would praise the Lord for His mercies and for His wonderful works to the children of men.... It has been a while since I did a thanksgiving post and I will be randomly dropping them in between my 1 week scheduled posts. The reason I did this is because I have noticed that I have become complacent acknowledging my blessings. I read a post recently that stated that where we are now is where we prayed fervently at one point to be, and it reminded me of days when I had barely enough and lived at the edge, walking almost everywhere because I counted every dollar. So instead of looking ahead at what I haven't yet received, I want to take a walk back and thank God for everything He has done for me. 1. I am thankful for life. After reading my posts on Death, I bet you are thanking God with me.  2. Thankful for family. My dad is visiting for a few weeks and its been such a refreshing time of fellowship and getting to know him again. The last time I lived under his roof was a ver
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OUCH MOMENTS

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 Do you ever get random memories that make you cringe or blush especially when you have not remembered those things in a long time? My brain likes to take me on random trips down remembrance lane from time to time to keep me humble or should I say it likes to remind me that I am only mortal and so I am prevented from developing airs. Yesterday was one of such days. I suddenly remembered something that happened 10 years ago and of course that led me on a convoluted journey into the underworld of cringe worthy moments. My aim in sharing these moments is to spread some of the joy of being human and if I can tease a laugh from you then I'd say my day is complete. So what did I remember? An episode that started with my sister calling me frantically about her child who was ill. She has the benefit of a personal physician- me. My default mode when I think it is not a matter to be settled on the phone is to refer her to the nearest hospital I trust. Several years ago, after my youth servic
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Death III

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In recounting my near misses, I can't but think of how many other misses I am unaware of. As a child, I was the only one who was hospitalized a few times compared to my siblings and cousins. I cannot remember if I ever felt sick enough to be at deaths door, but I do know I disliked getting injections. During one of my trips to the hospital I was to receive a Novalgin injection, for those of you old enough to remember Novalgin, it was the most painful torturous injection ever. I screamed hell and blue murder as the nurse approached with a Novalgin shot. 'I don't take injections', I lamented in my most piteous voice, you would think anyone with a heart would see the tears and back down but those nurses were a special breed. After a few minutes of my temporary madness, my father was summoned, it took just one look from him and I accepted the drilling of the syringe through my marrow (that was what it felt like) without as much as a squeak. The feeling Novalgin gave your bu
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Death II

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I'll digress a bit before getting back to my tale. One of my patients died today, it was expected, it was obvious when we examined that the end was near and still we tried to stop the arm of death from plucking this one away from loved ones. At what point does one give up pulling back the cord of life and allow the grim reaper tug the soul to the great beyond? When do we give up the heroic efforts to restart a failing heart of a soul whose body has been ravaged by its time on earth and infiltrated with cells not designed to nurture life? Many are guided by personal experience, religious belief and a hope so strong it laughs in the face of death to decide whether to be accepting of the eventuality or wave wiry fingers at the specter that wants to bring about the separation of a loved one. As a physician, I have a fair idea of when the grim reaper or faithful servant if you please is near. One question friends and family want to know is 'How much longer?' 'When will the
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