Don't Let It Take Everything

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Undersea and Hyperbaric Medicine
Excellent. A friend of mine from residency did this. He ended up being a Hyperbaric fellowship director. We were both talking not too long ago how happy we were we were no longer captive to working EM shifts full time. His general-EM shifts were reduced down to two per month, mine down to zero. Both of us working in areas 100% derived from our EM board certifications + a fellowship. We were talking about how much happier we were and how we felt we had new leases on life. Congrats.

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Thanks for bumping this thread.

I had an epiphany of sorts the other day and have been mulling it over and felt like I needed to tell someone, but wasn't sure who. And now, obviously, its you guys.

Was chatting with one of the other HPM docs when our volunteer coordinator came by to mention that there was a premed who wanted to "volunteer" with our hospice, and we jokingly commented about talking this person out of medicine. The volunteer coordinator seemed confused and so we sort of rambled on about why medicine really isn't all it's cracked up to be. I mentioned that I was retired, and she seemed surprised since I'm nearly full time.
"But I'm retired from something a lot harder and stressful. I don't have to do this anymore:"

...and I put on my "I have bad news face" and sat down, and launched into the talk I've had hundreds of times... where you know that by the end of the sentence, you will have destroyed that patient's and/or family's lives. Fire the warning shot. Tell the news. We did everything, but...

your mom died.

There is a spot on your lung... and the reason your arm doesn't work is that there's one in your brain too.

there was in an accident... the car hit a tree.

A really important blood vessel in her chest tore and there was nothing we could do.

The infection was already too widespread.

We did everything we could, but your baby died.

...

And I realized that my heart was pounding and my adrenaline was surging, in a way that hadn't happened in a really long time.
And it took me a half hour to realize that probably wasn't normal. And nothing I used to do was normal.
And that strong physiologic, adrenergic reaction took quite awhile to finally tamp down.

I was glad to get away from all the daily annoyances and metrics, but what I am really thankful for, is not ever having to do that again.
I'll hold people's hands all day, I'll be their shoulder to cry on, I'll talk about death and end of life and existential suffering, but I am most thankful I will never have to tell another parent that I couldn't save their already dead child.

Just needed to get that off my chest to people who get it.
 
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Thanks for bumping this thread.

I had an epiphany of sorts the other day and have been mulling it over and felt like I needed to tell someone, but wasn't sure who. And now, obviously, its you guys.

Was chatting with one of the other HPM docs when our volunteer coordinator came by to mention that there was a premed who wanted to "volunteer" with our hospice, and we jokingly commented about talking this person out of medicine. The volunteer coordinator seemed confused and so we sort of rambled on about why medicine really isn't all it's cracked up to be. I mentioned that I was retired, and she seemed surprised since I'm nearly full time.
"But I'm retired from something a lot harder and stressful. I don't have to do this anymore:"

...and I put on my "I have bad news face" and sat down, and launched into the talk I've had hundreds of times... where you know that by the end of the sentence, you will have destroyed that patient's and/or family's lives. Fire the warning shot. Tell the news. We did everything, but...

your mom died.

There is a spot on your lung... and the reason your arm doesn't work is that there's one in your brain too.

there was in an accident... the car hit a tree.

A really important blood vessel in her chest tore and there was nothing we could do.

The infection was already too widespread.

We did everything we could, but your baby died.

...

And I realized that my heart was pounding and my adrenaline was surging, in a way that hadn't happened in a really long time.
And it took me a half hour to realize that probably wasn't normal. And nothing I used to do was normal.
And that strong physiologic, adrenergic reaction took quite awhile to finally tamp down.

I was glad to get away from all the daily annoyances and metrics, but what I am really thankful for, is not ever having to do that again.
I'll hold people's hands all day, I'll be their shoulder to cry on, I'll talk about death and end of life and existential suffering, but I am most thankful I will never have to tell another parent that I couldn't save their already dead child.

Just needed to get that off my chest to people who get it.
This, x 1,000
 
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