Halfway through intern year

Here are a few things I’ve done so far:

– felt cynical

– been humbled

– felt guilt

– went by someone else’s opinion instead of my own, and was burned

– cried at family meetings

– cried on the drive home

– hid in a bathroom and cried some more

– yelled at a patient

– felt disrespected/intimidated/supported/appreciated by other healthcare staff

– felt bad about myself for not knowing a fact

– treated someone rudely because i had just been rudely treated by someone else

– pronounced people dead

– broke it to an old lady that she had syphilis

– watched families watch their loved ones be coded

– felt like I should have been able to do more for someone

– felt like there was nothing else I could do for someone

– fetched drinks for patients

– gagged while examining someone

– woke up with anxiety cramps

– seriously questioned being a doctor

After 6 months of excitement, self-doubt, and growing pains, my morale had hit an all time low. I felt alone, isolated, and stuck. I thought it was maybe the weather, or maybe just me. I’ve wondered why I’m doing what I’m doing and why did I want this so badly – was I totally wrong? Is this what my life is going to be like forever?

It was a rough few weeks.

I’m not sure when things started to shift. Maybe it was from hearing so many co-interns mention something about feeling tired, feeling burnt out, feeling like they didn’t know why they were doing this. There was that time a 3rd year overheard us talking and sat with us for an extra hour after night clinic had finished, to tell us that he understood how we felt, that he was sorry, but that it’d be ok. He drew that graph someone had drawn for him, telling us that it’s half way through the year, the days are dark, and everyone at every level is feeling low. It’s expected and it’s ok. The more I confided in others, the more they confided in me that they too had been feeling dark and down, questioning themselves and where they are, lonely yet reclusive. In groups we wanted to appear confident and capable, but one-on-one we were openly vulnerable, anxious and insecure. One day while driving, it occurred to me how ridiculous it was to feel I was a bad person for not knowing something. Then you named this perspective and put this conflict into words.

A friend, a co-intern, told me of waking up devastated and guilty for not remembering what he had read the night before. Another told me of feeling it was time to quit. Another told me of anger over not being trusted, or fear of being thought of as not performing. And another told me how alone he felt. We all wanted so badly to show what we are capable of, to be told we are capable, to feel capable. We were falling apart.

It’s halfway through the year, and it’s some long dark days. But I’m feeling new. Newer than before when I felt like I was all untapped potential; vast and mysterious, awaiting the dramatic reveal. Now I feel like a sprout; little and very green. But earnest. Nothing more, nothing less.