11/24/06

I have nothing to say and nothing to write. I had such a large download of thoughts to get off my mind when my break from school settled in, and I started to feel human again...now I guess I'm ready for some more experiences to stimulate my thoughts into further reverie.

I'm finally feeling the part of being human again, which translates into being functional again, after days and days of doing very, very little, out of necessity for recuperation. Studying this much is hard, man. But what a privilege it is, nonetheless, to learn what I am learning. Medicine, man. The art and science of making people well, or failing that, the skills needed to make people comfortable when their health is failing. I am grateful...so grateful...to be where I am - nearly halfway through the process of starting a medical career.

It's four year program that follows a college degree in the US. The four years are divided into two years of book learning, and two years of clinical education. But it is truly a lifelong learning process. If one thinks that becoming a good doctor means simply a four year degree, then I would argue that is a short-sighted view. Those few four years are just the groundwork that lays a foundation on which the church of medicine is built. You learn how to learn; and you forget most of it. God knows I've forgotten more than I remember from the last year and a half. But such a statement is misleading.

After the degree, we will continue training, and finally we will be authorized with the privilege and responsibility of taking care of people. Along the way, patients will cross our path that strike us as familiar, and the reason they strike a familiar chord is because of our education. We may not recall all of the details of a certain pathology, but inch by inch, the foundation we are building now will strike metal, and resound with newfound, solid relevance that is impossible to understand until another human being tells his/her story and their reality merges with the abstract notions set forth in lectures in textbooks.

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My grandmother celebrated her 95th Christmas this year. She lives in an assisted living facility here in Birmingham. Maggie and Estelle and I went to pick her up and spend the day with the family yesterday. Coming or going, I don't remember, but sometime when we were in the car, she was talking about my working toward being a doctor. She was convinced that I was on the path that I was meant to be on, and I agreed. Then she said, "Don't be afraid to listen [to your patient]."

She went on, and talked about a theme that I absolutely believe to be true, that a patient can tell you all of the information required to solve their medical problem. It simply takes patience, listening, and attention. Frankly, I often tune out a majority of what my grandmother says these days - this is one of my many faults. But I knew when she told me to pay attention to listening to my patients, that she was giving me a nugget of medical wisdom that I can carry with me for the rest of my days.