I have survived my second year of residency! The toughest most exhausting most soul destroying year there is. Part of me feels numb in disbelief, the other part nervous about the new expectations of me, but mostly, I feel hopeful. There's less call, more sleep, more awareness of the substance of life. I write after a sleepless night at The Baby Mill, but despite eyeball-stinging tiredness, I had fun. I had a blast catching wrinkly pink babies, sloshing out twins at that STAT stat C-section, popping a bloodvessel and my wrist bones in the exertion it took to pull up that low low head from the pelvis. Joking with the nurses, rolling my eyes with the attendings, reassuring patients... it felt like something I could do in the future.
Over the past year I've wondered how I've changed, how the 'system' has shaped me, dehumanized me, desensitized me and overall discouraged me. At times I lost sight of people. I stopped treating them as I would my best friend, my mom or my quirky cousin and started seeing them as illnesses and things on my 'to do' list. Now something has somehow reverted back to the Sheona I used to be. With feelings, goals and passion. Its refreshing. Hopeful even.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
I miss my epidermis
Three friends. 330km. One lost tent. One set of car keys missing. Three flat tires. One freshly torn ACL graft. Several thousand mg of ibuprofen. Three square inches of epidermis gone. So far, so good.
When it comes to your epidermis, it really is true that you don't know what you've got 'til its gone.
I'm missing mine. Right over my ischial tuberosities (i.e. bum).
Last weekend I took part in the Seattle to Portland bike ride. It was pretty incredible, we biked just under 330km in two days. About 10,000 people participate and its fully supported so you have food stops along the way, and you meet the most amazing people of all shapes, sizes, ages and walks of life. The first day was beautiful sunshine all day. Day two however involved plenty of rain, wind and three flats in our group. At moments I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was not physically or mentally possible for me to finish the race. I had no idea I could bike that far! Unfortunately, I assumed that pain was normal when biking these distances...of course this is true, but there's pain and then there's bleeding.
I found it philosophically fascinating, that I have been trained so well. Manicured and groomed not to listen to my body. To ignore feelings of exhaustion and push to 36 hours with no sleep. To pretend that feeling rotten is just part of the race (or the job). To completely disconnect from the signals my body gives me. Fascinating.
Don't get me wrong, the race was awesome, and I'd do it again... but next time I'd listen. Walking around like a wounded cowboy just isn't worth it.
When it comes to your epidermis, it really is true that you don't know what you've got 'til its gone.
I'm missing mine. Right over my ischial tuberosities (i.e. bum).
Last weekend I took part in the Seattle to Portland bike ride. It was pretty incredible, we biked just under 330km in two days. About 10,000 people participate and its fully supported so you have food stops along the way, and you meet the most amazing people of all shapes, sizes, ages and walks of life. The first day was beautiful sunshine all day. Day two however involved plenty of rain, wind and three flats in our group. At moments I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was not physically or mentally possible for me to finish the race. I had no idea I could bike that far! Unfortunately, I assumed that pain was normal when biking these distances...of course this is true, but there's pain and then there's bleeding.
I found it philosophically fascinating, that I have been trained so well. Manicured and groomed not to listen to my body. To ignore feelings of exhaustion and push to 36 hours with no sleep. To pretend that feeling rotten is just part of the race (or the job). To completely disconnect from the signals my body gives me. Fascinating.
Don't get me wrong, the race was awesome, and I'd do it again... but next time I'd listen. Walking around like a wounded cowboy just isn't worth it.
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