Since I last wrote, I became a married woman. My perspective of the "institution" changed dramatically from a girl who wanted to wait until all was settled with my career to a girl who realized how life short can be and if you cannot spend it with the one you love, you aren't really living. Now my perspective of being a newlywed has been a bit skewed because my husband and I have lived in different states since the union. My perspective on marriage will change again starting tomorrow as he will be here for an indefinite period of time. I'll let you know about perspective on this subject in the coming months.
But as these changes come in my personal life, I have had some new perspectives in my professional life. I can be accused of spending too much time at work. In fact my husband who gets called on my way home every night would tell you it's significantly more than I'll admit to. And he is right. I got up at 2 am on a Monday morning to drive to the hospital to sit with the husband of a critically ill patient on scant sleep after a prolonged call and knowing I would work another 36 before going home again. My husband asked why I did this to myself. So I had to give him a bit of perspective. I told him if it was one of us laying there, I would hope the other would have the support of a medical provider that they knew and trusted throughout their care to help them with tough decisions. I cannot do this job without caring. Period. The day I stop caring is the day I quit.
That night moonlighting, when all I wanted to do was sleep, I got called to the bedside of a crackhead with no prenatal care with prolonged preterm premature rupture of membranes (her water broke at 30 weeks). Now if you've ever heard me tell a story, you know that my pet-peeve is no prenatal care because every pregnant female qualifies for Medicaid insurance so there is really no excuse for no care. She told me that she thought her baby was dead because it hadn't moved since the last time she used crack a couple of days prior and she just kept repeating "I'm going to hell." Her baby was alive, and as I sat by her bed waiting for her to be ambulance transferred to a higher level of care hospital, I talked to her about changing her life and about adoption.
Perspective. The close knit group that I completed the first two years of medical school with has all gone in different directions but when I called them in January for my last minute wedding, they all showed up in Florida with less than 2 weeks notice. We shared an experience that will forever bond us to one another in medical school and hope to continue that through out lives. Now as a resident in a group of only 8, we spend more time with each other than with our spouses. Our group gained new perspective in the last couple of weeks as to what really matters. Illness among us may have broken our spirits momentarily, but we will rally. For all those people who have offered prayers, lit candles, and all the hugs even when they brought tears, we appreciate it. Hopefully there will be a blog soon enough to keep us all updated to her treatment. We love you Flash!
And so perspective has a cost. The cost often seems much more at the time of onset, but eventually perspective develops and in the end, life is a closet full of things we found at the time we needed them most.
