I don’t really believe that it’s 2008. The number looks ludicrous. I’m disappointed that we don’t have regular shuttle service to Mars and Europa. That alien species haven’t tried to contact us. That we don’t have flying cars.
Even five years ago, did I foresee this Brave New World™? Cell phones, Blackberries, iPhones, iPod Touches. Apple running on Intel. Microsoft starting those long, slow, swirling rotations down the drain. (Oh, it’s going to happen. History says that it’s simply inevitable.)
Even five years ago, did I really think I would be where I am now, trusting in my own ability to actually make people feel better, even if it’s only for a little while? Am I really in that position where medical students and even interns might see me as some sort of role model? Is there any possible way that there is someone out there who sees me the same way I saw my senior residents? Fearless and indomitable, even in the face of blood and death?
I don’t know what exactly happened. The last six weeks have probably left me a little worn out. My ward month was not as brutal as I was expecting it to be (although I certainly wouldn’t call it a walk in the park.) And the last two weeks running the tiny little five-bed emergency department at the VA have left me exhausted, and weary of the respiratory season. (Which has just begun, really.)
Maybe it’s just the holidays. As time wears on, I find myself wanting to avoid them entirely. I’m not exactly at Grinch levels yet, but all December, I refused to turn on my radio. All the commercials reminded me of was the fact that I’m living paycheck-to-paycheck, and am not really sustaining myself. If not for my parents, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. Suffice to say that no one got any gifts from me this year.
I thought about maybe doing something fun for New Years, but I got sick (and I’m still probably sick right now.) Some damned virus has been going around, and I’ve been tight and wheezy and breaking out into sweats the past five days. I mean, it hasn’t been really enough to incapacitate me, but I did spend a great deal of the weekend just sleeping.
I have no illusions about New Year’s Eve. No wishes. No expectations.
There is a vast, congealing emptiness where my soul used to be. (It evaporated, see.)
My leg is really starting to kill me these days. The worst are the nights where I can’t find a comfortable position, and I just spend the evening writhing around in annoying discomfort. I’m beginning to wonder if I might actually have a fibular fracture. (I’ve met several people who have had these, without realizing that they had actually fractured it. Instead, they spent several weeks just walking around, wondering why their sprained ankle wasn’t getting any better.) If I was half my age, I’d be running around the track by now, without a care in the world, completely healed. Even as early as 31, the shadowy specter of age is started to show itself.
I think about the state of my health sometimes. I’m in seriously bad shape. The way things are going, it’s unclear I’m going to survive another 20 years. I really need to lose weight. But the idea is so monolithic, so monstrous, that I start feeling despair every time I think about it.
There have been moments of clarity, though. I mean, seriously, I’ve made it this far. Why stop now? What makes this particular goal any more difficult than the last 26 years of my life? Nothing, really. All it’s really taken is patience, and the willingness to suffer horribly. I mean, not like I’ve been in a Turkish prison, or interned at Guantanamo or anything, but I have a feeling that the sleep deprivation I’ve experienced is going to have a lasting and quite negative impact on my life.
At this moment, though, I feel completely adrift. I have no idea where my center is anymore. Where my baseline is. I’m just floating through this Higgs field, jiggling around in Brownian motion. Where am I going? Where have I come from? The more I think about it, the more I start wondering how much it really matters anyway.
The darkness has finally caught hold of me and finally bitten off a chunk of flesh. I’ve never been able to survive Winter without clawing my way out of it. Even here, in sunny Southern California, it makes no difference. The sun still rises late and sets early, and the night saps all my strength. Truth be told, 2007 has probably been the best year of my life, in terms of my mood, in terms of my accomplishments, in terms of my self-image. I survived the unit without killing too many people. I’ve done my last medicine ward month. I know what I enjoy doing.
The chasms are not as deep, but the peaks aren’t as high either. My mood has been steady, to be sure, and I know it’s the journey and not the destination, but every once in a while, I still find myself asking, why am I doing this again? Meaning life in general. Some days, I just want to be still. As still as a tree, unmoving, except in the wind, in tune with my natural surroundings. Feeling at peace, in harmony with the universe.
One of these days, I have really got to find my place in this world.