Thanks, med school.

One of the best things about working in healthcare is that, when you're having a bad day, someone around you always has it worse. I don't claim that this is an unselfish statement - it's just a fact.

I've been having a comically bad week; mostly just little annoyances but definitely some serious and heavy stuff, too. For instance - someone stole my bed sheets from the community laundry room, and my cat projectile vomited all over my comforter at 4:36 am.

Like any other Wednesday, I went to the pediatric pulmonology clinic this morning and proceeded to vent to my nurse practitioner friend about my woes. Sympathetic words and hugs were offered but I was definitely still feeling sorry for myself. Not two hours passed until I saw one of my cystic fibrosis patients. She's an 18-month old hispanic darling with curly hair and deformed arms and her social situation is awful; young mom, food stamps, non-present dad. Long story short, mom had been skipping her treatments and grossly underfeeding her, leading to a significant drop in lung function and continued weight loss. Death isn't off the table.

I did some crying this evening because it seemed like the right thing to do, and I definitely shed some extra tears for that little girl. I was born healthy with parents who adore me. I am lucky enough to feel the joy and pain associated with being a grown-up or experiencing cat ownership. I have medical school to thank for those little reminders.