It has been two months since my last post, and every day I find myself being taken further and further away from the things I love and enjoy by the job I worked so hard to get. It is amazingly sad, to think that one invests every once of strength have to achieve a particular goal, only to arrive there and find out there is not much to write home about.

I wrote a piece last week to submit for publication and shared it with one of my mentors for review. When I sat down with them the first question they asked was “Are you okay?”

“Was it that bad?”

“Well, no,” he responded. “It is actually really good. It’s just…It sounds as though you are giving up.”

“…On this?”

“Yes. It sounds as though you are exhausted and tired and done. I think it is a good perspective and more people need to talk to talk about this, but…I don’t know…It just sounds really sad, ya know?”

I mean, I am sad. And exhausted and tired. This job is physically trying and emotionally draining. It takes you away from the things you love and does its best to obscure even the tiniest bit of joy you try to extract from it. This is something I think we need to talk about more. We watch each other get pummeled by workload, patient conditions and hysterics, and by the -isms of our peers, superiors and juniors. We relate to one another on the general understanding of the challenges we face as the people who chose, with eyes wide open, to enter a field such as this, one where the work and learning is constant, the failures and setbacks innumerable, and the rewards few, far between and mostly in hindsight.

None of this, is actually my point of contention. What amazes me most, is how we treat one another. More than the difficult patients, or having to perform duties beyond our scope in order for our machines to remain well-oiled and functional, I marvel at how little grace we show one another. We perseverate on how hard this job is, however, even though there are ways to mitigate the emotional toll on each other we do not seem to want to do that. We wave our hands and lift our voices to sound out the importance of prioritizing physical and mental health, and yet we our intentional work towards this is barer than the bare minimum.

Despite the controversy of the topic in current times, I firmly believe that nothing improves the quality of a society, a company or a workforce more than its diversity. And because term diversity has been so sadly maligned in this country, let me elaborate. Diversity involves differences in race, gender, sex, the visible human aspects, the ones that are the subject of all the arguments today. However, there is also diversity of knowledge, of personality, of talent, of opinion. Many want to be shown grace by others-grace to be oneself, express one’s opinion, be one’s own person without being subjected to judgement. I always admired the field of Medicine and Surgery for its diversity. People who dared to think outside the box, who dared to be different, who dared to push past convention. Sure, a hundred years ago these people were shunned and ostracized and made fun of until they proved themselves in their work and abilities, but have we not learned enough? Have we not learned that we go nowhere trying to squeeze every single one of us into preordained boxes? Have we not learned that our biases, explicit or otherwise, serve to do nothing but stunt our own growth as people? Has the history of this country, political, socioeconomic or medical, really taught us nothing?

Every day, young medical students and trainees struggle with mental health. Let us ask ourselves how many medical trainees today are currently suffering from mental health disorders. Ask how many are self-medicating with alcohol and/other illicit substances. Ask how many are actually getting formal treatment. And let us ask ourselves, if deep down, we aren’t contributors to the problem.

We make snide comments about our peers to their faces and behind their backs. We treat a lack of knowledge in some aspect or other as the hallmark of abject stupidity, even as we tout the principle of lifelong learning. We ignore and sidestep others, and worse still, provide our opinions to others, perpetuating our own, usually false impressions of people onto others before they have even had a chance to form one on their own. We judge the book, not only by the cover, but from a distance where even the cover is nothing but a blur. We say we want unique people to be a part of our workforce, and then spend the time trying to stamp out the things that make people unique, the attributes that made them fit candidates for this job in the first place.

You see, I am sad, and exhausted, and tired. But I am not done. Because I did dream of this for a long time. I did, even as I knew my strengths and weaknesses, my academic prowess and shortcomings, I pushed beyond my limit to get here. I have a reason for being here.

Tonight my sister is on her way to the emergency room with her child. I was her first call. We discussed what could possibly be going on, and I held her hand, metaphorically. My father was taken to the hospital three times over the course of last year, the third round after falling at home and hitting his head. The doctors tried sending him home. I got a call, called the doctor in question, and advocated for a few more tests to be performed. It turned out he had been bleeding internally for almost a year. My grandmother had a stroke a month ago. My sister called me, and together we recognized it based on how she looked and spoke. We rushed her to the hospital, our suspicions were confirmed and timely intervention was started. You see, I know why I am here.

Ever since I started the journey to becoming a physician and surgeon, there have been instances were I have sat at work, and wondered what the point of it was. The moments I realized that your effort into work may never be recognized if your personality does not fit what is expected. I will never forget being told by a superior that I could be who I am, but I have to ask myself if that would get me anywhere. I have been asked to endear myself to people. I have been called quiet enough to be considered unintelligent, blunt enough to be thought of as rude, with facial expressions to be considered haughty or arrogance. Not once has my work ethic or effort been called into question. All my “feedback” has been in relation to my personality, and how its difference from the norm makes me atypical.

And here I was, thinking it was the things that made us different that made us who we were. Imagine what kind of society, a bunch of bland, spineless, spiceless, forever “yes” people, who provided no differences of opinion or no variety to our work or lives. Imagine how gray our world would be. And yet every day, this is what is asked of us. To be bland, to be boring, to be same, to fit into the prebuilt moulds. And woe betide those of us who do not.

I came into Medicine to be the simplifier of medical information for my family and community. I arrived on the backs of a tribe. And if you are like me, you know you that nothing, and no one, can take that away from you. You and I, we are different. We will not fit into the box. The box cannot hold us. I do not disrespect. I do not malign. I do not condescend. But I will not be subsumed by those who choose to take the road of assumption rather than understanding. I have a long way to go in this journey, but I also did not come this far to be shot in the kneecaps by insensitivity.

The answer to the title question is no, this is not all there is. This job will always be terrible from the bottom up. Depending on the route one chooses, though, it may also be just as shite at the top. So I am choosing not to carry these grievances in my heart, because I know they would eat at my soul. I deal with the cutting remarks, the glances, the rude comments in my own way. I cry-some days in the bathroom, other days in my car, and other days in my mentors’ offices. I talk-to my friends, the one or two people I grateful to call my people at work, my sisters. I cherish and prioritize every moment with my family, because this is where my best friends are, my sanctuary is. I write, because as the words leave my heart onto the page, so too does their weight. I bear very little grudges, because I leave them on paper. And what does not leave by writing or typing, I drain out with exercise.

I love this job. I hate that one has to deal with all the nonsense surrounding it, things that could very easily be avoided if everyone just treated everyone else with some grace and respect. If everyone just embraced everyone else’s differences and uniqueness. If everyone just treated one another with a little kindness. I am not done, and when that day comes, it will be in my own time, of my own volition. I will remain true to myself, true to my values, and no matter the shape of the box, I will not fit, I will not not back down.

Also, I think I am going to publish that piece as-is. We need to talk about the devils behind the curtain. To bring them into the light, so that we may no longer fear them. It is the only way they will be defeated.