so it's been a solid 9 months since i've blogged anything. you can gestate a BABY in that time. holy crap. i'm trying to start writing again both for my sanity and reconnection to the world around me.
even though it's been 9 months, the time has been a blur. after finishing up a rough stretch last fall, i spent a few months getting my bearings as an intern. i finished out strong on one of our grueling ward services and started my 2nd year on vacation. ::sigh of relief:: henry and i didn't do anything epic for vacation, although i did spend a few days in montreal with him on a business trip and we moved to a new apartment.
my first true rotation of my 2nd year of residency was 5 weeks of oncology. i sent a huge proportion of my patients to either heaven (they died) or the ICU (they tried to die)-- in both cases spending a lot of time crying. i cried both for the patients' lives and their families' grief, but also for the frustration i felt with a system that often forced me to be the one to discuss with the patient their poor prognosis and impending death.
i just finished 2.5 weeks of night shift at our allen hospital, a small 3-story community hospital in northern manhattan (inwood). i was THE medicine resident in-house overnight, meaning i admitted medicine patients, acted as the arrest resident, and frequently checked on the medicine intern in the ICU. in general, the acuity was less, although i did have several nights in a row with incredibly sick patients requiring ICU care. i had the opportunity to make some really interesting diagnoses. all-in-all, although tiring and annoying to work overnight, the rotation really helped boost my confidence in my ability to function as a resident.
a few things that have changed over the past few months that you can expect to hear more about: living at a new apartment that stretches our creativity in space/function, started working out with a trainer to get in shape, and really starting to enjoy iphone photography.
additionally, just spent the past weekend at a bed and breakfast in provincetown, cape cod with henry for a post-night-shift getaway. here are a few (iphone) pictures from the trip:
a look down an alley on commerical street to the bay
getting ready to board our whale-watching boat
on the shore
buoys by the bay
the cape by twilight
yesterday was my last day in the medical ICU and of course i was on call. i got an admission to rule them all - with everything wrong that could possibly go wrong. it's been a long, grueling month and i've been desperate for a minute to breathe. this month - more than any prior - i've been leaning on my fellow interns. spending 80+ hours a week desperately trying to bring lives back from the downward death spiral of the ICU... grappling with the suddenness of it all with families... finding no time to process what became known only as "the shit show"... despite our meager efforts in the precious few moments to ourselves to pull it together, we all reached our respective breaking points. even so, the shared experience of it all brought us together like nothing else i've experienced before.
last night, after i left the hospital at 10pm, i met up with our whole group of residents/interns and spent 4 glorious hours drinking, laughing, and dancing. i was the last one leaving the unit of our team - and when i arrived, i entered to cheers, hugs, and a drink put in my hand. it was the best time i've had in awhile. i was undoubtedly exhilarated to be finished with my ICU duties, but i found myself truly ecstatic to be alive... something i haven't felt much in the past 6 months. what a reflection of my raw human existence and needs that have gone unidentified - needs that were finally met 100-fold last night.
1st day on new service with massive hangover? worth every minute.
i am done with my graceless heart
so tonight i'm gonna cut it out and then restart
and it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
so shake him off, shake it out
.florence and the machine.
one day soon i'm going to post about something other than my all-consuming job. unfortunately it's just that - nearly all-consuming. and it riddles me with doubt and frustration. there are days i want to quit so badly it hurts. today wasn't one of those days. yesterday was, though.
i'm on night float again - did a week of oncology nights, now i'm on 'variety' which means i'm somewhere different each night. oncology was miserable. cancer can be so terrible. i had to pronounce two people - both of whom i had never met, but still cried with their families. last night i was back in the CCU where i recently rotated, and it was actually sort of fun to have continuity and to have a marginal idea about what i was doing.
i was just riding the train home thinking about how bipolar it feels like my life is right now. a good day/night can make all the difference, where a bad day/night makes me certain i will quit. even so, i keep trucking. it's amazing the endurance, patience, and sheer will-power that is being shaped in me. i don't claim any of it - clearly these are not qualities i've figured out how to acquire on my own.
i hadn't heard this switchfoot song in awhile, but it came up on shuffle just before i hopped off the subway. it's such a powerful song and perfectly expresses the things i can't put into words after a long night at the hospital. i fail - yes - and then try again. every day i find myself as someone different from the day before; everyday life has a new dimension. and all i can sing, over and over, is that i'm not copping out. i'm not. i'm staying the course. sing it for me, switchfoot:
twenty four oceans, twenty four skies
twenty four failures and twenty four tries
twenty four finds me in twenty-fourth place
twenty four drop outs at the end of the day
life is not what i thought it was twenty four hours ago
still i'm singing spirit take me up in arms with you
and i'm not who i thought i was twenty four hours ago
still i'm singing spirit take me up in arms with you
i want to see miracles, see the world change
wrestled the angel, for more than a name
for more than a feeling, for more than a cause
i'm singing spirit take me up in arms with you
and you're raising the dead in me
twenty four voices with twenty four hearts
with all of my symphonies in twenty four parts.
i'm not copping out. not copping out. not copping out.
.switchfoot.
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I’m frightened by those that don’t see it
When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected
If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it
There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I’ll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out
it's time for an update.
to start: intern year has been an explosion of difficulty. although i've probably had moments here and there for an update prior to today, my mind has been swirling with struggle and i've found it hard to articulate what i'm going through. today, as i transition to another week of nights, i took my bike out for a long, sweet 14mi ride. it's amazing what biking is doing for my soul.
here's an excerpt from my journal from several weeks ago:
so it just hit me... intern year is terrifying. it's like this: the first time i went ice-skating as an adult, i just knew i was going to break my neck. i put one foot on the ice, then two... i could do this, right? i gingerly put one foot in front of the other... and my legs slid completely out from under me. i teetered forward, pulled myself back, and just narrowly escaped a head-first dive onto the ice. clearly, i did not know how to do this yet. i whined and cried: "henry, i can't!" i pulled my shaky legs back together and grabbed the wall. i felt like everyone must be pointing, laughing... what is this girl doing out here? she's terrible! she doesn't even know what she's going! i stayed at the wall and watched people glide by so smoothly, so elegantly... they even looked like they were having fun as i stood there scared senseless. would i ever be able to do that? how am i supposed to learn when there are so many people around me who seem to have forgotten what it was like to take those first wobbly steps out onto the ice? will the pace of the swirling bodies ever slow enough for me, timid newbie, to slide into the mix unscathed?
i can think of a million analogies for the way intern year feels. the one i feel most often is that of treading water in a choppy sea... pumping as hard as i can and still being washed over the head with waves, gasping for breath. i'm afloat, but just barely. with my arms flailing and my legs pumping i realize: i have the lives of so many in my hands. i write medication orders, do physical exams, order tests... all while drowning. and, in the midst of it all, the fear that i'll mess up paralyzes me and i sink further under the waves. the cure? experience, knowledge, self-confidence. i'm desperate to acquire these in hopes that i will not only take better care of my patients, but that i'll also be less miserable.
as melodramatic as that all sounds, it's true. i was comparing notes with a fellow intern the other night and we surprised each other when we both admitted we were hoping to find a career path after residency that didn't involve patient care. although it's unlikely that we'll both follow-through with that plan, we agreed that the overwhelming feelings of incompetence attached to autonomous patient care at this moment make us want to flee from it altogether. what a crisis to be doing what you have prepared to do your whole life and feel like you suck at it.
i could leave it there, but i won't. there's hope. i mentioned several months ago at the outset that residency is not something i can do alone. i can't and haven't been. the hope i have in Jesus pushes me through another day - he helps me love others despite my self-doubt, gives me patience when my soul is screaming, and comforts me through situations in which i share in the suffering of his children. he reminds me that trials are certain in this world - but that my reaction is critical. what a pampered, sheltered life i've led for residency to rock me to my core like this. even as i suffer, i'm so grateful to have my eyes opened - to become someone more beautiful than who i was.
i am weak
i am poor
i am broken, Lord
but I'm yours
hold me now
hold me now
.jennifer knapp.
