A Two-Part Reflection on the First Two Years of Residency: Part Two
As I was editing part one, I was glad that I wrote things down as I went along; it’s remarkable how much of the challenging times you quickly forget once you’ve been through them or feel like you’re “on the other side” so to speak. It probably worked out for the better that I neglected to post those reflections as they were happening, because now I can look back on the first two years as a whole and have a fuller appreciation for the fact that both the good and the challenging times were equally necessary for my growth as a physician.
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One of my favorite parts of residency has been the people that I get to share this adventure with. I truly believe that leaning on your co-residents is one of the most important parts of this experience. There is nobody who understands what you’re going through more than the people going through it alongside you.
The friendships we form with each other are unique for a few reasons. For one, we only really know each other as we are now. We don’t necessarily know about our past, our families, our backgrounds; we just see the people we are today as friends, co-workers, as young doctors, and we support each other through a time of immense growth and change. I think a lot of other adult relationships can be challenged by change, but for co-residents, it’s expected and nurtured as we all find our voices and our practice styles. For those of us without any family or loved ones in medicine, our co-residents are our only outlet where we can bond and vent about all the details of residency. I’m so grateful to have people I can process things with clinically, and emotionally, who truly know almost exactly what I’m going through. Everyone is different in terms of how much processing they’ll need with co-residents and trusted attendings, but I truly believe that everyone needs that bond at some point during residency. Sometimes you need the “it’s supposed to be hard” and “we got this” quick pep talks; and sometimes you need time and shared space to validate your exhaustion and negative emotions. We’re genuinely rooting for each other, supporting each other, and taking care of each others’ patients. We work together through literal life and death situations for our patients, and learn so much about each other doing so. It’s odd to think about, but the residents I’ve worked with in these situations have seen a side of me that even my husband hasn’t fully seen.
A saying that is often repeated on the residency interview trail is, “my favorite part of residency is the people”; so it sounds repetitive, but I really am so grateful to be here, with these co-residents, at this program, where our culture truly is one of support and genuine friendship. I have found amazing mentors here, and friendships that I know will last well beyond residency.
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All of the learning residency demands, with its concentrated bolus of new encounters, new situations, new stressors, and knowledge, acts as a catalyst for personal growth and transformation, not only as doctors but as individuals in general. I think that it’s natural for this environment to foster growth in multiple aspects of our lives, regardless of our stages in life. I do have to note that my perspective as a new wife and homeowner, being relatively young as I approach the end of my 20s during residency, and being the farthest away from my family that I’ve ever been, has sparked significant personal growth outside of residency. It’s important to recognize that this experience may vary for others.
Our time in residency is so limited that it forces us to be conscious about how we spend it. This often naturally leads to developing boundaries, and to increased mindfulness about what we spend that valuable time doing. We may start paying more attention to what types of things help energize and rejuvenate us, and which things there may just be less time for in this chapter of life.
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I find myself writing often about my tattoo, a phrase that has become my mantra and often my own internal rally cry. I looked back on what I wrote in 2017 when I got my tattoo and I just love all of the parallels to residency, so that’s what I’m sharing here.
6 years ago I wrote: “I try to approach life thinking that it’s not about what happens to you, but how you react.”
So much of residency is reacting with calm, with grace for yourself, your patients, and your colleagues, and improving your reactions with each exposure to a new situation. I would argue that so much of Emergency Medicine in general is the ability and the courage to react and to appropriately take action, in scenarios where others wouldn’t. Learning new skills and acquiring new knowledge requires so much discomfort. I take pride in, and now strive to teach others, my perspective that the more you care about the details, the more you look at each difficult situation as an opportunity and a privilege rather than another problem to deal with, the happier you will be and the better doctor you will become. It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that we all yearned for and prayed for these times where we would finally be the doctor.
6 years ago I wrote: “I believe that life isn’t about being scared of the sadness, or dwelling on the things out of our control, so I let myself grieve and feel the sadness without letting it consume me. I let all of my hard times strengthen me, I pushed forward knowing that’s what my Mimi would want…”
Residency tends to be about finding a balance between letting yourself recognize and give space to how difficult this journey is, while also not forgetting that this is a temporary and very short-lived time in our careers. We only get three years to become the best ER docs we can be. We want it to be challenging, but we can’t let the difficulties and the challenges consume all of the good.
6 years ago I wrote: “I believe life has to be equally about the bad and the good, I just have to be strong enough to grow from the hard times so that I can truly appreciate the good… I believe you can’t know love unless you’ve experienced heartbreak, and that sadness exists to help us learn what happiness even feels like.”
If it wasn’t for the days spent crying alone in the stairwell from exhaustion, feeling overwhelmed, wondering if I’m doing the right things, I wouldn’t fully appreciate the days of well-run resuscitations, working seamlessly with my team, and making good calls on behalf of my patients.
If it weren’t for the days when the imposter syndrome completely won and I was convinced that I didn’t belong here, that I wasn’t smart or disciplined enough, then I wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the days where I leave work with the biggest smile, feeling like a confident, capable doctor who is unquestionably deserving of this role and has so much to offer in teaching my peers and my patients.
“The hard times put the shine into the diamond.”
This has been my mantra since the second I heard it eight years ago. Even as this phrase was tattooed on my body years ago, I truly had no idea how deeply it would continue to resonate in my life, and along this journey of chasing my dream of being an Emergency Medicine doctor.
Monica: your words on resiliency are inspirational.
Thank you Karen!