O, the mighty fall...
Angel left this afternoon. I'm back here in Indy for the next few months, back in the hospitals, back to coming home to a one-room world where the only touches of home are the multicoloured chest of drawers and an old sepia-toned picture of Angel and myself playing at being medieval (the one in the icon). I wish some of the weekend's glow had clung a bit longer. I wish I hadn't cried when he left; I feel so empty without him beside me.
And it was a good weekend, O Best Beloved, a wonderful, magical weekend and I loved every second of it, but now my stomach aches and my heart twinges and I feel tears pricking at my eyes again. I'm such a baby. I don't want to start Neurology, don't want to go back to trying to sort out those four precious days off a month, to early-morning rounds and looking everything up not because I want to but because I'm forced to. I don't want to. You can't make me.
Thursday some poor kid - he couldn't've been older than about seventeen - pulled out of the drive-through line and nosed his corner into Shinkun's door. My brand-new car now has a lovely scrape in it, and I'm going to try and settle it with the kid's insurance, because I'm getting it fixed. It's ugly, and every time I open my door I see it there, scraped and dented, and it makes me growl inside with frustration.
Friday's exam was exhausting. Friday's evaluations were heartrending - but I want to make a correction to that entry:
I want to be a good doctor. I am going to be a good doctor. I am going to do this and I am going to change lives and I am going to make a difference. Like my preceptor who looked at me and said "I took my Boards and passed them the first time because I was not going to take them again," I am not going to go through this for nothing.
I think, in reflection, that Friday afternoon and that evaluation was a low point the likes of which I have not seen in a very long time. A low point like the day I learned I'd failed Vertebrate Anatomy, my first year of medical school. I have written a letter to the head of the OB-GYN program, asking if he can get me any clarification. We'll see where it goes. What can I do, though, but suck it up and move on?
( Collapse )
It lasted until this afternoon, when we packed up and came back to S's, to an empty house with nobody but the stranger I am in it. The sheriff's department stopped by to make sure I was the person they'd told her would be staying there, a fact which only emphasized that I am not at home. And I cried when my Angel left to go back to our home, and I didn't want to make it harder for him to leave, I didn't. But I'm staring at a hopeless vista of loneliness once more. I don't want to go to neurology. I don't want to do neurology. I don't, I don't, I don't. But I have to, and so help me I am not going to see another evaluation like Friday's.
I'm going to put my best foot forward tomorrow. I'm going to enjoy myself if it kills me. And if it means I have to give in and see my doctor and ask her about medicating the ADD I'm certain I have, if that's the only way I can focus enough to get through lectures and long days and look good, then that's what I have to do. But I'm going to try it on my own, first. One more time.
And it was a good weekend, O Best Beloved, a wonderful, magical weekend and I loved every second of it, but now my stomach aches and my heart twinges and I feel tears pricking at my eyes again. I'm such a baby. I don't want to start Neurology, don't want to go back to trying to sort out those four precious days off a month, to early-morning rounds and looking everything up not because I want to but because I'm forced to. I don't want to. You can't make me.
Thursday some poor kid - he couldn't've been older than about seventeen - pulled out of the drive-through line and nosed his corner into Shinkun's door. My brand-new car now has a lovely scrape in it, and I'm going to try and settle it with the kid's insurance, because I'm getting it fixed. It's ugly, and every time I open my door I see it there, scraped and dented, and it makes me growl inside with frustration.
Friday's exam was exhausting. Friday's evaluations were heartrending - but I want to make a correction to that entry:
I think, in reflection, that Friday afternoon and that evaluation was a low point the likes of which I have not seen in a very long time. A low point like the day I learned I'd failed Vertebrate Anatomy, my first year of medical school. I have written a letter to the head of the OB-GYN program, asking if he can get me any clarification. We'll see where it goes. What can I do, though, but suck it up and move on?
( Collapse )
It lasted until this afternoon, when we packed up and came back to S's, to an empty house with nobody but the stranger I am in it. The sheriff's department stopped by to make sure I was the person they'd told her would be staying there, a fact which only emphasized that I am not at home. And I cried when my Angel left to go back to our home, and I didn't want to make it harder for him to leave, I didn't. But I'm staring at a hopeless vista of loneliness once more. I don't want to go to neurology. I don't want to do neurology. I don't, I don't, I don't. But I have to, and so help me I am not going to see another evaluation like Friday's.
I'm going to put my best foot forward tomorrow. I'm going to enjoy myself if it kills me. And if it means I have to give in and see my doctor and ask her about medicating the ADD I'm certain I have, if that's the only way I can focus enough to get through lectures and long days and look good, then that's what I have to do. But I'm going to try it on my own, first. One more time.
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sad
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