A world buried deep

Excepts from Kenya: My Heart's Home, by Sarah Seaton:

"I live trapped between two worlds. One is in my head and guides me through each day through reason. It is where I spend most of my time. This world reminds me of the car payments and student loans, the budding career track and successful future. This world keeps me from making quick, rash decisions by planting my feeble feet on solid surfaces. This world urges me toward the familiar, the things I know to be true, to be safe. Its perimeter is small, confined by my own limitations, and, if I do not gaze too far ahead, I do not have to acknowledge that, instead of grounding me, it has trapped me.

The other world is buried deeper. In my heart, I live in Africa—a mysterious jungle that beats to its own rhythm. The sun shines bright here, and the air feels full of purpose. In this world, I close my eyes and can hear the laughter of children and the songs of the hopeful carried in the wind. This world is where I feel most alive, but it is also where I feel most afraid. To get here, the journey is long, the road is treacherous, and the cost is great..." [Read the rest of article here]


It's already April. Wow. I've been working over four months. So much change. And now my mind is increasingly preoccupied with plans for next year -- is it really that time again? An unbelievable opportunity has come up at my hospital for next year that would combine clinical work, mentoring, research, and study -- four of my favourite things. Not to mention it would be a refreshing change after being a slave to the ward for a year. But we'll see how it all plays out.

I'm also still in the process of planning my trip back to Africa come November. A few potential places on the shortlist that I'm pursuing (all in East Africa), as well as slowly saving up some money with each paycheck -- slowly but surely. The opening paragraphs of the article above so perfectly captures my heart; words I wish I had written myself, seemingly plucked from my very own thoughts. How I miss the indescribable beauty and rhythm of Mama Afrika; that Sun, that Heat, that Beauty; that Quiet, that Chaos, that Hope. "This world is where I feel most alive, but it is also where I feel most afraid."

The writing is going well. I mentioned in my last post I was asked if I'd be interested in doing a 'Transition to intern year' blog on the student association website. I've posted a couple entries and apparently it's getting a few hits, which is great. Hopefully of some encouragement for those yet to go through what I have these few months past. I've got plenty of more 'material' currently brewing and stewing in my mind, so I'm excited.

A few other things on my mind in the background which I'll shelve for now as tiredness takes over.

Back to my book, "The Gift of Pain" by Dr Paul Brand and Philip Yancy. Really good read. Inspirational. So good that I may even finish a book this time around! Here's hoping.

call me 'Doctor'

I can't believe my last post was the night before I started work. It's been four months since then, I'm on my second rotation and just finished my first set of night shifts (7 consecutive nights!) which were in and of themselves quite the monumental step.

My relative silence wasn't all for lack of trying. I have three posts under drafts, two of which deleted themselves at the final hour and one still under construction about the latter half of my trip to Dakar (I know, Albert! Still unfinished!). Feels a bit futile this late in the game, but it's still on my radar for now. LoL

I'm not sure where to start. The first three months were particularly hard. I really struggled. It felt like I was in this emotional/psychological 'survival' mode, more often than not, finding it impossible to see any sort of light at the end of the tunnel. It was the combination of a speciality I struggled to enjoy, adjusting to worklife for the first time, and trying to settle into my new life in this new city. If there is a limit to the amount of change one can handle simultaneously, I (unexpectedly) found myself dangerously close to it this time around. But then things started to change. A month ago my General Surgical rotation began and I realised I was... happy again. Despite working twelve to sixteen hour days, five to seven days a week, on a team that has had an average of 50patients, I felt myself again for the first time since I started work. And it's been awesome. I haven't yet once been to the Operating Room but that doesn't even bother me too much. I'm on an awesome team, working with some awesome people, and I'm loving it.

I do miss the reflecting that comes with putting thoughts on paper, and I'm going to try harder to keep posting. I've also agreed to do a "Transition to intern" blog on the student association website, especially about those first three months which I found particularly difficult. I hope sharing some of those pretty dark moments will help, if in the very least so that others won't feel so alone as they go through their own versions of dark moments later on.

For now, I just wanted to say I'm still here. Which... sounds a bit obvious but in the grand scheme of things is quite the accomplishment if I do say so myself.