Sorry, that's a little medical/anesthesiology humor. One of the things I am sure to discuss is my desire to pursue training as an anesthesiologist. Unfortunately for you, that means you have to endure nerd humor. I suppose that is just a hazard of the job. And it is a terribly appropriate introduction to my dry, crass sense of humor.
As the "About Me" says, I am in my late twenties, a medical student, a husband to a wife with a professional degree who is making a profession out of being a wife and mother, and daddy to a wonderful little girl. I constantly find myself wearing different hats and praying that each time I put a new one on, it will fit. This blog is being composed in hopes of providing me someplace to vent my frustrations with school, talk about some of the difficulties I have encountered in my young marriage, and discuss the daily adventures of a toddler. At least, that is what I hope to get out of it. My hope for you is to have a better understanding about the training physicians receive, be reminded that doctors are fallible human beings, and hopefully get a few chuckles for your trouble.
Starting with my hopes for you (yes, I'm looking at you!), I feel like there is a disconnect between the world of medicine/physicians and the people who seek out the counsel of physicians. And I am comfortable placing the blame squarely on physicians. Surprisingly (or not, depending on your personal experiences), physicians aren't always the best communicators. We do a suboptimal job of helping the public to understand the things that we take for granted. Like why you are sitting in the waiting room 35 minutes past your appointment time. When there is radio silence from the physician's office, you are left to wonder if your doctor was enjoying a lunch of lobster, caviar, and 25 year old scotch. But with a little communication, you might find out that a patient came to the office with a list of concerns longer any of Tolstoy's works, another patient walked-in from the street with fever, stiff neck, and pain when looking at the lights, a patient in the hospital's condition has deteriorated, and Mrs. Jones has called four times because pharmacy said she is out of refills on her water pill. And no lunch was had that day by your doctor. That certainly isn't always the case, but a quick word from the nurse or front desk staff that Dr. Smith is running 30 minutes behind because of some very sick people might make everyone a little happier. And that's the everyday stuff. It is even worse when sensitive topics like physician compensation, end-of-life care, or even breaking bad news leave something to be desired. Thankfully, those in medical education recognize the faults of their colleagues (and themselves!) and are working to change that. Students spend a lot of time in medical school talking about talking. Know that the situation will get better. And when it does, everyone will benefit.
All of that talk about talking is probably apparent by now. I tend to ramble. And ramble. And ramble. Until it comes time for me to talk about the things in my head and my heart. As I reflect on many of the issues I've encountered in life, I would estimate that 85% were caused by my mouth. Sometimes the problems sprung forth with the words coming out of my mouth, but more recently, the problems have erupted while I lie silent. For the last several years, I have noticed that I have become much more reserved and introverted. I used to be able to talk about anything with anyone, but now I've struggled to talk about the most basic things, like how I feel, what I need from my friends or wife, or even what I hope for in the future. And it has cost me. I have spent hours, neigh days and weeks, being angry and muted toward people closest in my life because I was afraid to talk with them. This blog will hopefully provide me a dry run for my thoughts so that I can have those conversations and that it will be easier to say the words because I've already "said" them before. This has become a necessity recently, as my wife and I have hit a few bumps in the road secondary to vaginismus. And most of those problems sprung from my inability to tell my wife that something was wrong. I can't afford to do that kind of emotional damage to her or myself anymore. I need an outlet for my thoughts and emotions, and I hope that this place can be that. And I would like to thank you for being the ears to which I whisper my thoughts. Understandably, things will likely get very intimate in this space. If I think it is something I wouldn't read sitting in a magazine sitting at Starbucks, I will put some sort of tag in the title so that you can make an informed decision whether or not to read that entry.
Wow. See, I'm a rambler. I feel like I've been doing that since birth. I think that this is enough of an intro for now. I'm sure there will be more to come fairly soon. Thanks for reading and I look forward to sharing more with you.
- The Anesthetized Student
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