I Have No Clue: Story of My Life

I don't know where this is going.  Just like my life.  I have no idea what I'm going to write about in this post.  Likewise, I have no idea where my life is headed.  Oh sure, I finally got past the first two years of medical school.  And I finally got past Step 1, the first board test we have to take as medical students.  But I don't know what specialty I want to go into or where I'm going to go.  I just started rotations.  I'm still learning, and learning multitudes (because I still have no clue about how to take care of patients).  If I had a nickel for every time I've gotten that question, especially while I was on my off-site rotation, especially from patients, I'd probably have $2.50.  The point is people may think I know and that I have control over my life.  I don't.  And to have to answer the same question over and over again, while it's not the fault of the patients since they don't know who I am, can get tiring.  I just say, "No clue.  Still learning.  Yes, Dr. So-and-So is a great teacher.  Yes, I'm lucky to be with him."  Rote memorization.  Could've used that the first two years of medical school.

I'm looking at the spider hanging on its web that it made between my pencil sharpener and my clock on my desk next to me.  I wonder what it's like, being an animal or an insect, oblivious to the cares of the world except for how to make its home and to catch its food.  Seems very basic.  It doesn't have to care about money.  It doesn't have to care about its future beyond its web.  That spider is lucky.  It's not going to be smushed by me.  I'll be taking it outside in a few minutes.  But even if something worse will befall it, it doesn't care.  It's just biding its time until the next food source comes along.

It's been two years since I've posted in this blog.  That equates to about 30 spiders and insects that have been caught in this apartment and released outside.  A lot has happened since then, mostly finally making it to third year.  But it seems like most things have happened to other people.  Every time I log onto Facebook, another person has a birthday, has partaken in a really cool hobby, has gone on an amazing trip, has gotten into a relationship, gotten engaged, married, had a baby, had two babies, had three babies, bought a house, got a job.  And I'm truly happy for them; some of them are classmates from high school and college.  Others are people whom I've met over the years and then lost touch with, or are medical school classmates, one of whom seems to be getting hitched every other week.  I'm obviously on a slower pace; it took four years to finally get into medical school, and then I had to take a year off, so now I'm behind my class.  Still on the listserv, so I'll get e-mails regarding residency applications.  Got one e-mail from someone about meeting a physician from another hospital.  I replied with interest.  Got an answer saying, "M4s only bro."  Thanks bro.

I've been told time and again that everybody has one's own pace.  I've given the same piece of advice to others.  I don't know if what I say is actually useful, but I try to be comforting. At the very least, I'm searching for something to say to avoid the awkward silence that comes along after someone spills out one's guts.  I wonder if this is the same for other people.  And yes, it's true that I am living life at my own speed.  Slower than a turtle, which is ironic considering that I was born in the year of the rabbit.  At some point, though, It'd be nice if things were to fall in place.  "Oh, you're cute.  You're interesting.  You're fun.  You're smart.  You're great to talk to."  Not helpful if you're not interested.  Insert winky face.

But at least I'm not coming into a doctor's office, waiting three hours before someone shows up, and then realizing it's the medical student asking questions as opposed to my doctor, and then wondering when the actual doctor's going to come in to tell me why I'm short of breath, or why I have stomach pain, or why my back is aching, or when this concussion will go away.  Thank goodness I'm on the other side of the room, and thank goodness my parents are rarely on the patient's side.  I'm also thankful that I can do stuff like see former presidents speak, even if they are stumping for their significant others.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get off before my Mom accuses me of writing too much (probably still going to happen anyway) and take that spider outside.