New Moves

Five months ago I was sitting on a couch in the dean’s office of my medical school in Irvine, California, five miles away from my favorite beach. It feels like a couple weeks ago. It was about an hour after every fourth year medical student received an email from the central body that matches students to residency positions. That Monday match email is succinct: either “congratulations. You matched.” Or “you did not match”. I received the first, my husband the latter. Hence the couch.

“Well, you matched in Philadelphia,” my dean said, looking straight at me. He probably knew it would blow me away. Worse things have happened. To me, even. Much worse. But somehow this felt really big. In that moment, I saw my gracious dad lose a few pounds of muscle, a few hairs, and another couple of inches. I saw my beautiful mother gain a few curves, muscle aches, and fine lines. I saw my sister struggle with her post-stroke husband without my help. I saw her two beautiful little boys growing up without Farah Aunty there to do the airplane and a million other little things they’ll probably never remember but mean the world to me. My world would go on without me.

Two months into residency in Philadephia, that will all probably come true. All of it except the part about my world going on without me. Initially, I focused too much on what I was leaving behind, and not enough on what I was going to. I have a wonderful marriage I’m only beginning to discover, new friends and old ones to connect with and keep in touch with, and the job of my dreams to pursue. There’s a whole new city to explore, a whole new body of homeless people to serve, so many new opportunities to be at peace with God.

More senior residents at my hospital and others are weathered and weary. I don’t know what it feels like to be a resident for several years (or even several months!) but I pray that I wake up every day feeling like I’m living the dream. I hope I always think drawing an arterial blood gas is a cool procedure, and prepare for it with similar attention (but not trepidation!) years into my career, carefully positioning the patient and examining the operative site. I hope I am soft around the edges, turn around to make sure I didn’t miss something someone said, and remember to smile. It took a long time to come to where I am, a lot of blessings strung in a long row. Philadelphia might have been a blow, initially, but in the end, I can’t help but feel that much more motivated to be the best person and surgeon I can be here—it is literally the singular reason I find myself on this side of the country. Naïve and idealistic? Sure, let that be me.

I’m on my way back home to California just 6 weeks into residency; my assigned two-week vacation happened to fall in August. My nephews will no doubt have learned all kinds of new things and I can’t wait to see them and all my family and friends. But I’m also at peace with life in Philadelphia. The geography is ancillary; the real work of life is simply to constantly seek out ways to be better. And there are many.