Moving Mountains

As doctors we get divorced of the human element sometimes, that's the only way we get by is to see the person as a disease instead of a person.  We make a lot of sick dark jokes about it, really what are we supposed to do, cry all the time?  Instead we dehumanize the situation, maybe we dehumanize ourselves a bit too. 

The scary times are when it's someone you know, when you can't step away, when it's still there at the end of the day. It's a sense of dread I don't think I've experienced in medicine before, when the lines between your dearest loved ones blur with the patients you've treated, when you hear them speak in echoes of patients passed.  

So far, it seems like I can always come up with a fix, some new option to try.  But I know the odds are stacked against me, someone I love is going to be in trouble and I'll be powerless to help them.  I wonder if other doctors constantly feel inadequate when faced against what we are faced with.  If they too constantly wish they were smarter, better, more impervious.  

It's like society has pulled regular men and women off the street, dressed them in a superman costume and said, "Ok, now go save everybody." The "suit" and everyone's belief that we, the doctors, will be able to help is just enough that we are crazy enough to try.  In fact, we succeed just enough to keep us pushing, but it's never enough.  Suddenly you realize your nearly 30 years old and standing in front of everyone wearing a superhero outfit, pushing against a mountain which you ridiculously expect will move.

Maybe if I can just move it one inch...one centimeter...come on damn it, I'm so close!

Newbie Doc