Saturday, April 04, 2015

Counting one's blessings

I have wanted to be a doctor for as long as I could remember. 

My most distinct memory being at age 13, when I proudly wrote an excerpt on wanting to be a neurosurgeon. Of course, that rapidly changed over time to cardiothoracic surgery and then even more rapidly to cardiology. 

It's strange how life seemed much simpler when one is younger. I had never imagined, 20 years ago, that in my late 20's, my life would be as such: unsettled. 

Whether it was a blessing in disguise or a curse, problems concerning matters of the heart have been completely obsolete. Instead, I had moved from one country where I had spent a good part of my life back to the east, with the hope that by doing so, I would feel more settled and closer to home and family. The only thing I have gained by packing up and moving all these miles to this neighbouring country is numerous withering glares, endless fault-finding, being reprimanded from all angles of the hospital by every single person possible and every single way possible of saying "Are you thick or what? How can you not know this?" 

In an environment where I had loved my job in the UK, despite the NHS and its shortcomings, where I had received many a compliment about being a very good F1 and grown so much to become a reliable SHO a year later, I have to grit my teeth everyday to keep it together and hang on, because I am this close to achieving my childhood dream. 

On bad days, I wonder why I ever put myself through this and why my character is stubborn as such. 

If only I was not as narrow-minded and lacked interest in other things so easily. 

If only I had been open-minded enough to embrace a career besides medicine earlier on in life. 

If only I had not been so adamant about being a cardiologist and settled for something more 'life-friendly' like general practice. 

These days, I not only struggle with the department thinking I am stupid, I struggle with questioning my own stupidity, especially with the PACES exam looming. On top of knowing even less than I did as a medical student - if even possible. 

Perhaps I do not have what it takes to be a medical registrar after all, lest a cardiology registrar. 

And then I came across an entry I wrote when I was a 4th year medical student doing Neurology, and my experience at the neuro rehab centre. I recalled distinctly how inspired I had felt back then, how my heart ached for the patients who did not deserve any of the fate they had suffered. 

And then I check myself right there, in the midst of my laments of being fat, of not having an Oxbridge brain, of being so stupid all the time, of lacking confidence, of not having a soulmate at this point in life, of my cardiology dream being such an intangible thing in the distance. 

Of all my shortcomings and my lack of achievement, I am, at least, healthy and alive. And neurologically intact. 

Nobody said it was ever easy on this long road to achieving that dream, and perhaps I just need to take a longer, more winding road than others, but on this subject of counting one's blessings, I am grateful that I am here....at this point in life. 

And that I maybe a little slower and lack the intellect of some others, but I will give my best shot at these bloody membership exams.