Why am I a Doctor?

 

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.

My work does not give me the joy that made writing fun. It has taken a lot from me and I am not sure if I will ever get it back. Death is something that in my line of work is familiar, and losing a patient happens more often than not. Over the years, you learn to tuck back that part of you that wants to mourn, for if you mourned with every death, you would not have the strength to do your work. And the remembrance that you are not a real mourner holds you back from pouring your heart out and pounding your chest in grief.  You leave that for the families and friends who have spent years with your patient compared with the days you get.

Something else has chipped at my love for my job over the past few years, and it is the interactions I have had. The interactions that lead with snide comments about your competence, or a refusal to acknowledge orders, public denigration of your work and one that scarred my soul- someone screaming at me. Never in my life has anyone ever shouted at me that loudly or so ferociously. At first, you ignore the stares, deliberately tune out their hate filled words but very soon it takes its toll.

Think of someone wearing a brand-new white coat who walks down a long corridor and comes across several people who throw flecks of red paint his way. A few of the flecks miss their mark, but very soon his white coat which was once his pride and joy becomes an entirely different garment. If someone told you it was originally white, you would be hard pressed to believe it.

So today I decided to write to unburden my heart, and release the burden I have been carrying around. The truth be told, it was an interaction today that made me realize that I needed to let it all out. Having trash pile upon me and lugging it around, blocks out the sun and prevents the rays of joy from penetrating my heart and maybe just maybe, this little act will be the first step to reclaiming my joy.




Comments

  1. Bowlar4:13 AM

    It sounds tough Tomi. Sending love and light your way as you go about your labours. Be reminded you work as unto the Lord and not to the unappreciative denigrating staff n patients. And may the Lord reward your labour of love.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous4:31 AM

    This! So glad someone has acknowledged this. There's more. Interaction with younger already jaded colleagues who seem to have no passion for job. All they want to pursue is money. AND you know you cannot blame them. It is what it is. However, it is not all bad

    ReplyDelete
  3. AVI - Urstruly6:37 AM

    I tell you Doc, without the slightest intention to downplay your thots, this happens in almost all spheres of work- job hazard they call it, but trust me it goes beyond the job, it sometimes becomes soul hazard, emotional hazard, and other life-depending hazards. As a Teacher, it can be so demeaning where no Student wants to ever become a Teacher or represents one on Career Day 😆😂 Parents come, dump their dungs, Students come dump theirs, School owners more often than not leave you hanging when the chips are down, worse, Government no send you, since everyone believes your reward is in heaven. So Doc, as noble as some professions are, we still need to keep hanging there by a dint of passion, courage, belief and commitment till we get to that eureka moment when we can confidently answer the "Why I became what I do" question. Cheers

    ReplyDelete
  4. zinar9:18 AM

    Hey Doc this is so real.
    Only yesterday at the hospital where I went in for stuff, I had this conversation with my support worker. How so draining it must be for you lots stuck in there and seeing humanity at its unfinest. We talked why patients or their circles lose it and lash out on the helper instead.
    If it helps do know that your job makes a difference for at least one family

    ReplyDelete
  5. Titilope9:37 AM

    Lovely write-up. I am not a Doctor, but I love watching medical series( just concluded Resident) and I agree that if you had to mourn over every death, you would not have the strength to do your work. I am so glad you have decided to unburden your heart; this is where true healing comes. Being a Doctor is a gift; you can tell the Doctors who are in for the money and those who genuinely love being Doctors in their empathic and compassionate ways. I pray God blesses you always and gives you strength for each day

    ReplyDelete
  6. Anonymous9:52 AM

    Thank you for sharing Tomi, I hope putting it in words helps you and not a career change! The world needs more of you! Remember you wanting to be a diagnostician like Dr House? You made it!Hang in there dear!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Death III

Image
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
Read more

My Mother Tongue!

I grew up speaking English as my first language and I can tell you that is one fact I am not proud about. I remember once when we were much younger shouting out the only Yoruba words we knew as children 'olosi', 'oloriburuku' etc. My grandmother came out of the house hurriedly to put a stop to our foolishness, what on earth did we think we were doing? she asked, our reply still puts a smile on my face 'we are speaking Yoruba' we replied. My lack of proficiency in speaking Yoruba ( I can write it:) is revealed anytime I speak to my patients. When our conversation is not just me answering in monosyllables, I begin to speak rapidly in my mother tongue but by the end of my first two sentences, I hear myself stuttering and stammering and Im wondering if the patients don't think this doctor is having a sudden attack of catatonia! My Yoruba teacher in Secondary school summed up my Yoruba speaking prowess to my parents during an open day 'She is a good student b
Read more

Back in the Blogosphere!

Image
It's been 6 years since my last appearance here and a lot of water has passed under the bridge, more like a billion cubits. I have grown up,   I was grown before but trust me I have grown a lot more. I have completed a residency, chief residency and fellowship and actually moved from NY to a more idyllic less fast paced town in the Midwest in this time. The move has come with all of the culture shock that entails moving away from the North East and I have plenty to write about this. I transitioned from trains and buses to actually driving myself everywhere and recently completed a solo 7 hour drive with 3 brief stops to refuel and use the restroom. It seemed like a good idea then but several rarely used muscles showed up multiple days in a row to protest against being so abused that in concession to these muscles, any distance greater than 4 hours by road will automatically be upgraded to a flight. My regular driving distance on days when I want to escape the quiet of my town are 3
Read more