Broken....

...ironically, is how I felt.

Beaten down. Questioning my purpose. Doubting myself. While I've had the occasional "why am I doing this?" thoughts for leaving a stable and interesting profession to follow a dream, my 12 week surgery rotation took every last thread of confidence I had and twisted it into unrecognizable angst. To give you an idea....

Ever since I was a kid, I belonged to a local hiking club. Every Sunday, we would meet somewhere and walk really really fast for at least 10 miles. It was almost a racing club and if you couldn't keep up, then you were left behind. There is a phenomenal hiker, who is probably in his 70s now, who was my main competitor when we hiked the annual 26 mile hike in a nearby state park. We'd be on mile 24, pretty tired, sweating, out of water, neck and neck to be the first person to finish, and he'd see a ridiculously steep rocky hill in front of us. His little face would just light up, his legs would start revving forward, and he would take off up the hill, exclaiming "BONUS!"

Over the years, whenever I encountered anything that was almost insurmountable, I heard a tiny little German accent in my head yelling "BONUS!" It made me try harder. It pushed my competitive spirit up the hill.

I lost that in surgery for the first time in my life.

Now, you might be like, oh, whatever, it was just a rotation. Why was it so hard on me? Was it the 4:30 am start time, not seeing my kids for days or daylight for weeks, the 28 hour call and 14 hour work days, the insane amount of reading to prepare for the surgeries, the profound fatigue from never catching up on sleep, the few residents that really disliked students and made your already hellish life hellier, and some attendings that looked right through you if you dared announce your presence or completely ignored you if you tried to ask a question? All of the above? Probably.

Then there was the pimping. Pimping (explained here) is when an attending physician or resident peppers a student with questions (in the presence of their superiors, peers, or even patients), usually with the expectation that the student will know none of the answers and feel like a complete idiot, or just enough that a student will know a couple of the answers but still feel like mostly an idiot. The point is, pretty much no matter what, when we get pimped, the student feels like an idiot, because well, we're STUDENTS. Definition: don't know much yet, still LEARNING. Yeah, great supportive environment... BONUS! In homage to the Pimpocratic method, if we are able to hold our own during the barrage, however rare that might be, the feeling of accomplishment is notably most excellent and vastly appreciated.

Yet, while I strongly disliked the rotation, I loved the OR. The surgeries themselves were amazing. Despite standing for hours, holding retraction till my arms went numb, needing to pee, not being able to even scratch my nose, and despite the sick feeling of dread as I would surely be subjected to hours of captive pimping, I really looked forward to the OR. I had a birds-eye view watching very talented surgeons open people up and repair their sick or broken bodies. It must be a large part of why surgeons love what they do. They don't just recommend a behavioral change or prescribe a medication. They fix people.

Hence, the irony.