Mad World

I actually enjoy surgery clinic. People are in and out of there so quick and their problems are so easy to solve. Right upper quadrant pain after a fatty meal? Ok, your gall bladder needs to be out. Lump in your breast? See, we have to get a sample of it and if it is not looking good, the lump needs to come out. Bulge in your groin when you cough? Well, we'll have to go in and stuff your intestines back into your abdomen and make you a new inguinal canal. Red, hard lump in your armpit that looks like a giant zit? Well, we'll have to pop it like a zit. No shit like when did the cough start; what time of day does it happen most often; what type of job do you/did you/have you ever done in your lifetime; do you have a family member that has, ever before, is now currently smoking? Has anyone in your family died of cancer?

Time consuming inquisition that sometimes leads to nowhere because the vast majority of regular folk have no clue about their family history or the current condition of their health. You're the doctor, they say, go figure it out. Most aren't even aware that 3/4 of the infomation that is needed for their care comes from them knowing how long they have been coughing, or if an uncle had cancer and what type of cancer it is. We are supposed to magically come up with an answer and just because we can't sometimes because of lack of infomation, people are quick to send us to the gallows and question what all that education was for. It's a two-way street, people.

I digress. So, I am in surgery clinic and loving it because it is so problem and solution oriented most days, whipping people in an out like in five minutes. As I am getting ready to book someone I saw for inguinal hernia repair, my chief says to me:

"You will die in internal medicine, I can see that."
Not looking up from my writing I said:
"Are you trying to tell me that I should be a surgeon?"
She says: "Yes."
"Is it because of my personality?"
She says: "Yes and I don't have to tell you that; you know it."

I smile but inside, I am SCREAMING until my eyes pop from the inside.
BUT I HATE SURGEONS!!, I said in my head, how is it that one of them recognizes that I am one of them when clearly, I have no problems yelling at people when they don't perform or have no patience when they are stupid and bring in a family member from another patient's room to interpret for our spanish speaking patient? How is it possible that I can have no regard for other people's beliefs especially if it interferes with taking care of the patient or that my ego is so big, I flop over myself and get pissy when things don't go my way? How is that possible?

I am in a philosophical quandry; on the one hand I am such a rebel, wanting and thinking I can always give a fresh spin to things and constantly challenging the way things are done, on the other hand, I find the better aspects of surgery challenging, rewarding and on some level satisfying like the time I got to sew a 18 inch facial gash shut on a drunk cyclist who colided with an SUV. Psych! I hope I didn't sew his eyeball to his eyelid.

But wasn't that what I said about medicine, about anesthesia, about psychiatry.......?
Is there something I will do that will make me happy?
Will I ever be satisfied?
Is the grass always greener on the other side?

Damn it, someone give me a crystal ball. I have half a mind to visit a psychic.
And I hate surgeons so how can I hate myself?