Inheritance
I finished the Internal Medicine clerkship last week. I think I liked it. There are certainly parts of the clerkship I clearly enjoyed - direct patient contact, every day learning something new, long days that would go by quickly because we were usually too busy to watch the clock. There were some unpleasantries, too - not having time to study, the constant pressure of being evaluated, feeling clueless most of the time. Always in the back of your mind is the fact that your performance will affect where you'll end up in residency. You do well, and you get your pick of the lot; perform less than adequately, and you end up matching at Bubba's Walk-In Medical Clinic in Bupkus, Nowhere.
I'm fairly certain that Medicine will be one of my final choices when it comes time to apply for residencies. The thing is, I'm not sure I absolutely love it, nor am I sure that I'll experience anything that's going to make me say: "This is it. Such-and-such-medicine is what I was always meant to do." Perhaps I'm waffling.
I think the source of my uncertainty arises from at least two things:
1) Somehow, somewhere, the idea entered my head that becoming a doctor was the key to happiness in life. Getting that MD degree would all of a sudden make everything better - those painful high school nerd years, getting the girl, clearing up my acne, finally making my parents happy. I wonder how much influence my parents had in planting that feeling in my head. Would they be as happy if I had chosen to be anything else like a lab technician or writer or musician or starving artist? My parents always answer 'Yes' but it's hard to believe based on the way they reacted to my sisters' career choices. Besides, they only started answering in the affirmative after the fact that I had gotten admitted into medical school.
My parents have been quite giddy ever since I've finished graduate school and returned to the medical school curriculum with the end in sight. Frankly, I find it quite annoying - the NERVE of them to be so happy when I'm stressing out, feeling like a fish out of water, which brings us to...
2) I frequently lapse into periods of severe self-doubt about myself, especially when I have one of those dreaded 'bad days' in medicine. It doesn't take much to have a 'bad day' when you're a third-year medical student - one day your oral presentations might be off, or you don't answer a single question correctly. When that happens, for some reason, my thoughts just go into this downward spiral of negativity - I hate my stupidity hate my ignorance hate my weight yo-yo-ing up and down hate being alone hate being dull and boring hate hate hate my mediocrity which I'm sure I broadcast in big neon lights to everyone around me. I feel like an impostor here, feeling like I barely made it through grad school, that they let me finish out of exasperation or charity. I hate that I think like this.
What I'm listening to now: Koyaanisqatsi, Philip Glass
I'm fairly certain that Medicine will be one of my final choices when it comes time to apply for residencies. The thing is, I'm not sure I absolutely love it, nor am I sure that I'll experience anything that's going to make me say: "This is it. Such-and-such-medicine is what I was always meant to do." Perhaps I'm waffling.
I think the source of my uncertainty arises from at least two things:
1) Somehow, somewhere, the idea entered my head that becoming a doctor was the key to happiness in life. Getting that MD degree would all of a sudden make everything better - those painful high school nerd years, getting the girl, clearing up my acne, finally making my parents happy. I wonder how much influence my parents had in planting that feeling in my head. Would they be as happy if I had chosen to be anything else like a lab technician or writer or musician or starving artist? My parents always answer 'Yes' but it's hard to believe based on the way they reacted to my sisters' career choices. Besides, they only started answering in the affirmative after the fact that I had gotten admitted into medical school.
My parents have been quite giddy ever since I've finished graduate school and returned to the medical school curriculum with the end in sight. Frankly, I find it quite annoying - the NERVE of them to be so happy when I'm stressing out, feeling like a fish out of water, which brings us to...
2) I frequently lapse into periods of severe self-doubt about myself, especially when I have one of those dreaded 'bad days' in medicine. It doesn't take much to have a 'bad day' when you're a third-year medical student - one day your oral presentations might be off, or you don't answer a single question correctly. When that happens, for some reason, my thoughts just go into this downward spiral of negativity - I hate my stupidity hate my ignorance hate my weight yo-yo-ing up and down hate being alone hate being dull and boring hate hate hate my mediocrity which I'm sure I broadcast in big neon lights to everyone around me. I feel like an impostor here, feeling like I barely made it through grad school, that they let me finish out of exasperation or charity. I hate that I think like this.
*******
What I'm listening to now: Koyaanisqatsi, Philip Glass
posted by Mikey at 5:19 AM
6 Comments:
Ummm . . yeah . . . Koyaanisqatsi isn't going to help that mood at all :^)
"The Grid" would make good music for the gym, though.
Also, a happy belated birthday to you!
xhuatwqa sounds like it should be a Hopi word, too.
Think on this one:
Anything you can think is something you can change your mind about.
Not as easy as it sounds, but it's possible...you just need to get in touch with your inner zcxgqun...
happy holidays,
Lia.
Deej: Yes, I need to throw out my melancholy music. There goes all of Mahler and much of Chopin.
Lia: Nice quote. I'll keep that one around.
cxbyft
"...finally making my parents happy...Would they be as happy if I had chosen to be anything else like a lab technician or writer or musician or starving artist?"
You seem quite intent on seeking approval from your parents. While that's admirable, I think you need to ask yourself why that's such a priority for you.
You know who I am.
Oh, my...
God...is that you?
nukzk
Koyaanisqatsi . . . was there a movie by the same name? 'Cuz I've got a good story that might shed light on your situation. Or at least be good for a laugh. I'll leave out names, but I'm sure you can guess who some of the players are. So:
Sophomore year of high school, one of my so-called friends (who shall remain nameless) dupes me into going along with her to chaperone a Monday-night "date" with a guy she doesn't want to go out with. I knew I wouldn't get permission if I asked, so I just walked out the front door. Be back in a couple hours. Little do I know that I've been tricked into a double-date, and rounding out our foursome is a very unpleasant classmate who has an Asian fetish. So the evening involves seeing this movie and a morbidly embarrassing appearance at Baskin-Robbins. 31 Flavors Everywhere. I was afraid to show my face in there for years afterwards. And I think somebody's mother actually had to bail us out because Clueless Guy's car battery died.
Predictably, I was in deep sh*t when I got home at a decent hour, for going out on a school night, especially when I had an English test the next day. Which I aced. In fact, it was the only A I got all year. Anyhoo, it's not like they could ground me since I was never allowed out of the house anyway. The immediate lesson in all this was easy: wait until college before going on any real dates. But the real value came years later:
1) mention "Koyaanisqatsi" in front of any film geek and they will fall at my feet.
2) it's much better to experience a disaster (or a success!) that you choose for yourself, than a disaster/success that someone else chooses for you.
ruxlaxgr
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