“Beware of the young doctor and the old barber”
~ Benjamin Franklin
So I'm tired of packing boxes. When I moved to California from Nebraska, I came out with all of my shit fitting into one vehicle. I am now using a moving company to take all of my silly accumulations with me. I'm a fuckin pack rat, but I have managed to convinced myself to throw some things away, but not my books. I'm taking my medical school books - all of them. It may sound strange, but I have this weird sense of duty to do so. My thinking is such that in the event of the impending and future apocalypse, if humanity comes out of the otherside relatively intact, they may need someone to teach medicine again, and I'm going to need my books to do so. I think its noble, and if you don't, you can alwyas go fuck yourself (that's an option, you may also, as an alternative, choke and die. Either way . . .)
Medical school is quicly drawing to close - flying actually. Many, many conflicting emotions assail me at once - difficult for me to put my finger on them all. I should be very excited and happy, and part of me is, but I'm mostly just sad. I'm melancholy about leaving this part of my life behind me as I move onto the next. I came out to California to have a new start, recreate myself, do things differently. I was leaving a failed marrige engangement behind me and drowning my sorrows in the purple haze of marijuana smoke. I lost myself out here . . . cast adrift in a world of alcohol, drugs, and sex. I've taken a walk on the darkside - lived there - I was scared by what I found waiting for me there, but soon became comfortable with those demons. And ridding myself of them is tale for another time, but I seem to have left so much unresolved. I grieve for this fact. But I did find myself here as well. You see, my entire life I've always felt like I didn't belong - like I wasn't one of you, never could be - I've felt unlovable - I've felt like a loser - I always knew that you would never like me if you knew the real me. Well . . . I'm begining to realize that just is not true - not on the intellectual level where it only makes logical sense - but rather on an emotional level. I FEEL REAL! Fuck, if that is not an amazing realization! . . . what I wanted out here was to become someone I wasn't. On some level I'm disappointed that didn't happen, but it's merely a product of my own personal insanity. What I found instead . . . is me. and you know what? I'm begining to like me . . .
I'm about to venture into the world of real doctor responsibility. I know I'm frightened of this prospect and that my subconscious is mercifuly blocking the brunt of this paralyzing fear. I know I'm going to be a doctor - it's the process, where the pain and self-doubt live that frighten me. I know this journey will merely feed the negative I carry with me so palpably - merely reinforcing and validating the fact that I feel I'm a worthless loser. It will be battling those feelings where I will eventually find my worth and confidence. I am excited about how I will be on the otherside of that fire, but also discouraged by the work it will take to get there. Life on life's terms . . .
It is not easy for me to be this open with all of the people who may read this, but I wrote this for me, not you . . . when I am real with myself, I no longer live in the lie . . .
There is much more blog about, and it's been awhile since I'd had an angry rant. I have one or two brewing, but you must understand just how much work and emotional energy those rants have in their preparation. I have to channel something dark and angry, but it's good for me to do so. So for now, I hope the sensitive shit will suffice, for soon coming is the angry shit you have all come to love and enjoy.
Peace.
1 comment:
Well I guess that I am now going to become a mamogram specialist, looks fairly easy and could be quite fun.
On a more serious note, I finished medical school thirty years ago and I feel I have suceeded pretty well but I know your feelings about competancy. I would not admit to strangers that I was a physician till after I had finished my advanced training.
Now the hell with it. I do what I do with excellence and I don't care about the rest of the specialties. I am sure that that will change though due the probability of developing my own physical problems and ailments. However, I might be lucky and be like my father who was hospitalized only one time in his life and that was for head trauma that turned out to amount to nothing. So I am hoping that good genes will carry me through.
Did I just digress to far, sorry about that, a problem of the aged and infirm. Take courage, I think that you will come to like yourself more every day.
Regarding the keeping of medical text books, I thought the same thing about maintaininng a repository of knowledge in an isolated setting. I still have those old books and I imagine I will till the day I die.
Finally I would say, "stay a little pissed at all times", it helps to maintain the edge.
So long for now...
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