Invincible

One of the fascinating things about training in medicine is the extremes of emotion you experience. One moment invincible, smart, and compassionate, the next you are completely humbled, clueless, and incompetent. It makes for a strange feeling of conflict in your soul.

Had another amazing night of call, steady, no sleep. Sometimes I think babies are born despite our best efforts. A young woman who had recently moved from China came in after having contractions all day. All communication was through her cousin. In incredible pain (as tends to happen with labour, FYI) she had just been told an epidural wasn't an option due to a back injury. She was hysterical, she couldn't do it she said. She refused any exams to see how far down baby was. After 13 more hours of pain and screaming, a swift knee blow to my head and a kick in the arm (I do have an impressive bruise to show for it!) I was finally holding the floppy newborn in my hands . . . only to realize that the REALLY difficult part was sewing up the tear, which, uh, involves needles and such that are in no way compatible with a flailing patient. Completely humbled.

At handover in the morning, bleary-eyed and exhausted after going non-stop all night I was roasted by the chief resident for not medicating a woman with high blood pressure on the ward.

Yes, its true, I'm incompetent . . . and I would like it if we could discuss this with the group. Groan. How do I keep my heart soft and my skin thick?

Sped home on my bike, a bit wobbly, nearly missing a curb and a car. Changed clothes. Hopped into my car and headed to the ferry terminal and out to Saltspring island for the day. Sun, breeze, and beauty enveloped me as I slipped into unconsciousness on the top deck.