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Nobody wears a white coat any more...
...a tribute to becoming a doctor.
"But you're the most organised one, so I called you..."
Pager went off this evening. Shubi wanted to know, since she got out late, if I knew what surgeries were taken for tomorrow. This morning, I looked at Andy and offered him his pick from the list of un-spoken-for patients, as one of his was slated for discharge. He picked one, handed my list back. Jokingly, I asked him if they were going to get me something for Secretaries' day. "We should." Dr. C commented on my notecards today. "Those are pretty slick."
I'm not naturally organised. Honest, I'm not. But I know if I don't overcompensate for my naturally disorganised state by being compulsive about things I'll die a horrible screaming death from not having things done. And then someone will get mad at me, and yell, and that will be the end of the world.
M started to pick my notes apart today, before she got called to the OR. Little things - she had to get nit-picky about whether the orders from this morning were the orders that had actually been carried out in the end, whether fever and sepsis were two different problems, whether I had done things exactly right. All the other residents just sign the bloody things. They're impressed with my thoroughness. I don't know enough to get by on skill and experience; I must rely on being compulsively thorough, or I'll miss something. But M found things to pick at, and I felt a knot in my throat as I reflexively tried to defend myself. And she has this extremely clear diction, and a soft voice, and a hint of some kind of accent that makes her sound like Dr. S, my third-grade teacher. And I just wanted to cry suddenly because it wasn't perfect.
I'm over that now. But it's there in me, this beast of compulsion and the tears I try so hard to control. Maybe that's why I try so hard to overcompensate, to be organised, to do things right. Because I'm afraid of failing. And I'm afraid now that I look like a ringer, like I'm trying too hard and it shows, that I'm bossy and pushy and overbearing. And I'm afraid everyone secretly hates me and won't tell me. I don't want to be the person everyone's nice to at school but never invites to parties.

It's late, O Best Beloved, 9:30 already, and I was going to go to bed early. I'm posting this entry and one more after it, then to sleep.

now feeling:: worried worried

2 whispers echo . o O ( ... ) O o . whisper a word
lakos From: lakos Date: October 7th, 2003 07:42 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
You can come to my parties any time. In fact, you'd better. ;) Or it won't be a party. :(
From: (Anonymous) Date: October 7th, 2003 08:28 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
I don't think you are afraid of failing - you're just like me. You don't want anyone to think you are not doing a good job - you hate to disappoing anyone, and you have a hard time with even constructive criticism. I think you're doing a GREAT job, and you don't have to be perfect. None of us are perfect. Who is M? You will have people that find things to pick at.....learn from them and move on. I can't remember my password, I know my user name so did this anonymously but in case you don't know, this is your mom. so relax, we all love you and you can always come to our parties! maybe M has something to prove, you know! Have a good day tomorrow.
2 whispers echo . o O ( ... ) O o . whisper a word