The doggone days...

My thought for the day:

"My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning and yet I'm happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?

-- Charles Schulz

To This Day

I gazed up sleepily into her eyes and she let out a small laugh as I cleared the cobwebs from my head.

Aaaaghh, I dozed off again, and she wasn't giving me a hard time about it. I was on duty last night and despite the malaise slowly overpowering my body, I urged myself to go out to a nearby coffee shop to get some reading done. Getting up, she said we'd better get a move on if we wanted to get home alive and not have me dozing off at the wheel.

I knew better than to argue.

While driving, flashes of the past few years go by.

I remember seeing her coming up to class with books clutched close to her chest, the early morning sunlight streaking down her shoulder-length hair, and that ever familiar twinkle of her eyes. She gives me a smile and moves into their room.

I remember hearing her humming softly and singing quietly in perfect tune.

I know of her quick wit as we shared a laugh over a joke no one else seemed to get.

I've always admired her for being smarter than I am as she often appeared to effortlessly answer questions on exams that she would never openly admit on knowing the answers.

I remember her quiet understanding about the upsides and the downsides of my life.

The flashes go by like the lamp lights outside the car window. She was quiet as we went home with sleep slowly setting in.

To this day, she is still the same smile that lifts my spirits.

To this day, she is still the laughter that picks me up when I am down.

To this day, she is the hand that reaches for me when I reach out for help.

In this instance, she is the angel that wakes me up at this nearby coffee shop and kept me from being sprawled across the floor, passed out in exhaustion.

To this day, she saves me every waking moment.

Happy birthday.

525,600 minutes

A year ago, I was a scared, excited newly sworn-in doctor who was curious about his decision to train in internal medicine and fresh from a year of a great PGI-ship in Silliman (hence the title of this entry, piano music in the background).

I can't believe it has been one year. When they said time would fly by once you got into residency, they weren't kidding.

I'm done with first year.

Not that I'd miss having a ward with my name on it (as well as my phone number plastered all over the walls), the incessant nurses who page me every time anything went wrong from simple spelling errors on orders and deciphering unintelligible handwriting to actual codes, as well as the daily grind, DTR's (direct-to-rooms) among a whole lot of first-year stuff.

I'm moving on to subspecialties this year -- my first one is a personal favorite, neurology/endocrinology. I'll be going through a host of medical fields, cardio, gastro, nephro, you name it. Not to mention the added responsibilities of a second year medical resident.

And don't forget extended time at the ER and ICU - the dreaded rotations.

Sure, I'll miss my surgery dreams but I'll still practice shadow stitching and knot tying when nobody is looking, and I'll miss out on earning more and living the life moonlighting.

I guess I'm on my own adventure.

When I started out, I didn't get how people get into internal medicine. Yes, some part of it appealed to me then -- diagnosis, patient interaction, being in charge -- but I didn't get the dynamics of the field, the medication interactions, the fluid management and a whole lot of other stuff I could fill in but I won't. Now I have an idea of how much understanding it takes.

Not that I fully understand it yet, but trying to.

I'm one year in. Two more.

Two more and then the rest of my life.