I'm Just a Rookie

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13503848.post-1161220265574491072006-10-18T20:49:00.000-04:002006-10-18T21:11:05.686-04:00I'm Just a RookieIt's set in. Insidiously. Gradually. Inexorably. As some of you have commented in the past weeks, I've been a little absent from the blogosphere lately. I wish I had some pithy comment as to WHY or some good reason. I guess I've just been getting busy with the beginnings of my long journey down this road called "private practice". I think I'm a little shellshocked at finally being the person ultimately responsible for so many sick people with life-threatening illnesses. Dude, this is scary. You know, it's funny. I make all these somewhat self-congratulatory observations on issues that come across my eye in the New York Times or Washington Post. I feel educated, just finishing my training at one of the top institutions of this country. I felt like I was "on top of my game" coming out of fellowship. Yikes. I think the Greeks had a term for this... HUBRIS. My first months in practice have been a lot of things. Exhilarating, exhausting, frightening, funny, sad, predictable in many ways, completely horrifying in others. I'm still getting used to the feeling of moving from one room where a young patient is gurgling on their own vomit, dying from metastatic breast cancer, three kids in tow, husband, picket fence, to the next room, joking with the "cured" early stage colon cancer patient to the nurses' station where I have some yucks about my weekend to my house where I have this ever present urge lately to throw back a couple of beers nightly (I don't, mind you... well, sometimes I do). It's almost comical... almost. I saw so many patients in my seven years of training. I pretty much saw everything medical that I could imagine. Or so I thought. I guess you get used to hearing about how you're a hot shot so many times that you start to believe it a little bit. But, being out in the "real world" is something very different. You know, behind the verneer of confidence in your doctor's eyes lies just a little bit of terror. Trust me. Just that little feeling like "I'm an imposter". I really don't know what the hell is going on but I'll fake it or punt until the next visit or step out of the room and look it up on the Internet. It's crazy. It's one thing if I'm dealing with coughs and colds or sprains and bunions. But, this is chemo and death and tumors and horrors. Sometimes it seems like there is no break. Like I just gasp in relief when I look at the next patient on the list and it's someone with chronic leukemia or a run of the mill blood disorder. What a break. It's getting a little easier, though. I'm not staying up all nights reading furiously. I'm relaxing a bit more on the weekends. I don't need to get up at 6AM every day now. I'm sleeping okay for the most part. But, it's there. Just that little panic, that obsession, that fear that I'll completely screw up someone's life, mess up their wedding, their Bar Mitzvah, their vacation, their kids, their opportunity to have kids, their life. Honestly, sometimes being an oncologist is tough, draining. But, in truth, I love it. It's like crack cocaine in a way. Sometimes, when the day seems long, when I just dread one more conversation about death or hospice or the future, I look into the eyes of my patient and see THEIR compassion for me. I feel human. I feel humbled. I feel like a doc. That's the only way I can explain it. It's a nice feeling.CancerDochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10705096018236984019noreply@blogger.com6