Things I used to find fascinating are now tedious and uninteresting. I read review materials but nothing sticks. I highlight textbooks just for the sake of it. I spend hours searching the Internet for distraction.
I remember my late nights/early mornings of study, a mere 2-3 years ago. Reading about the normal conduct of labor, memorizing the signs of abnormal labor. Analyzing ECGs and spirometry readings. Looking up my patients' comorbidities for a holistic management approach. When I felt the urge to be more.
I am jealous of that version of me. The me who was driven. The me who had the courage to sacrifice family time, leisure time, eating time, for a greater goal.
Things changed when we lost Grampa. Knowing what I know now, from the perspective of a doctor, discussing his death as if he were a case in a morbidity and mortality conference...
What could have been done.
What should have been done.
(Or shouldn't.)
Would it have made a difference in his quality of life.
Countless conversations about that which that you'd rather forget. But because you're a doctor, they will ask you. Friends will ask you. Relatives will ask you. What happened, why, why, why. You relive the moment every time.
My career seems so far off. My family is now. In the larger scheme of things, which takes precedence?
It's a little like what my grandfather would say in his final days: "Hindi ko alam kung anong gagawin ko sa katawan ko."
I don't know what to do with myself.
And I don't care.
