Surprisingly, despite frozen images from my rotations in trauma, transplant, OB, clinic, etc... that are forever etched in my mind, there are very few things regarding my work that keep me up at night or make it into my dreams. However, now it is 4AM, and here I am.
Jason closed his eyes tonight and saw Thomas the Train (yes, he actually told me that; and, yes, I said Jason not Owen). However, as I forced my eyes closed tonight, I saw something else completely. Words that would describe this mental photograph are difficult to choose.
Tragedy overwhelmed by an odd sense of genuine, enthralling, and unmistakable beauty. (I did my best, but somehow the words still seem hollow.)
There are also few things that make me love and hate my job to the extremes. Those "things" are also the stuff we doctors can't, don't, won't, or rarely talk about. Bad outcomes. Dirty laundry. Dilemmas. Mistakes. Gore. The unexplainable. You know, all the stuff they put on TV.
Sometimes I wonder why we tend to keep all that in. It can't be good for our health - mental or physical. Is it: HIPPA? Fear of lawsuits? Pride? Humility? A lack of anyone else understanding and therefore fear of somehow minimizing it? Professionalism? Tradition? Who knows.
All I know, is that I can't sleep.
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