When I was on my surgery rotation, there was one day that was particularly rough. It was a Saturday and I was on call by myself, without any classmates. I saw more gruesome and horrifying things in that one day than I could ever imagine. It was a day that permanently broke something inside of me. There is no going back after a day like that. One of my attending surgeons even came up to me later to say how well I handled those situations (totally a lie, but pretty awesome coming from a surgeon 😂). This is why all doctors are wounded healers.
After being awake for 30+ hours on that call day, I went home hoping to crash in my comfortable bed and try my hardest to forget everything I’d seen and done. As soon as I stepped in the door of home, I hear, “Mommy?” Coming from my daughter’s room. I was spent. I had nothing left to give mentally, emotionally,… just nothing. I felt sub-human. Still in my scrubs, shoes discarded at the door, I walk into my daughter’s room to her smiling face, chanting “Mommy!” While jumping in her crib. My sunshine, happy to see me.
A year and a half later and I’m finally sharing a piece I wrote that day. Writing it helped me deal with some of the residual effects that I still feel.
Paging Dr. Allie 