More meaning than words...

Do you ever have those in-capturable moments where life has more meaning than words can describe? The times that you are reaching for eloquence to explain the clarity you feel about the purpose of life. I had a glimpse today. A glimpse that filled my inners and rejuvenated me to say the least after my 30 hr shift at the hospital.

Today I followed my patient into the OR (operating room). The procedure was a brochoscopy which is just a camera to look at the airway going from nostril to deep down into your lungs. We talked about the anatomy during his bronch and about the pathology. That is what a floppy airway looks like, do you notice the layer of thickened mucous, what about the edema...you should instead usually see sharp corners these are blunted. We analyzed, we talked about structures and how the patient's breathing was affected by what we saw. During the procedure I didn't look at my little patient I looked at the video screen that showed me his insides. It was separate from him. It was technical, we were focused...no emotion involved only analyzing. This did not feel strange and it was only when I began typing that I even noticed how detached I was during the procedure.

After the procedure was done I followed the attending doctor as we quickly walked into the room where the parents were waiting anxiously. The doc sat down and this is where the reality of what we just saw came to fluctuation. My heart filled when I heard dad say "this last month has felt like we've had massive heart attacks". Mom sat holding back tears. Everything was explained clearly and questions were answered and lastly and most importantly hope was given and shared. It was heart breaking seeing this family and their pain yet also very satisfying all at once as I realized this is why I love medicine. I love the technical evaluation of pathology aka I love thinking about disease but I also love human compassion just as much. The opportunity to share these pivotal moments in life.

You see, I've had these dualistic moments before...I have felt detached and then attached. Although I always looked at the detachment as inhuman or bad in someway. Today I realized it is precisely that a doctor must master both and be able to excel at both in the right moments. This is what makes a competent and compassionate doctor. This is an art for which I look forward to becoming a fine artist.

See for me in these moments my life becomes a tiny bit more clear. I imagine God's plan for me behind a big curtain and at these moments He flashes open the curtains to give me a sneak peek. Just enough to keep going, to keep working those 30 hrs shifts and to remind me when I get paged at 3am about a patient that it's someone's baby and it's worth it. It has meaning.