My new favorite mental hobby is switching between being thankful for the opportunity to be in medical school and being completely fed up with the process.
Case in point. At Sunday dinner I was asked what kind of doctor I want to be. My reply was met with another question - "So you're not going to be a real doctor?" If you want to see my eyes glaze over and my head spin around, imply that I'm half-assing my life. Work half as hard as I do, pal, and then ask that question again. I certainly don't need praise and adoration, but I'd be lying if I said that the implied lack of respect doesn't fucking hack me off.
But then I see a person near retirement-age working at Taco Bell and I get weepy and thank every known deity for the chance to educate myself. Because, really, I can't think of a better way to spend my career than being a good doctor, even if people don't think I'm "real."
Even 3+ years in and 11 months away from graduation, I have yet to feel any sustained calm about being a doctor. Is this my "calling" or just my job? I've never felt a calling to do any one thing. I have a whole list of things that I want to accomplish with my life, and it just so happens that going to professional school for the better part of my twenties was on the list. I also plan to be a kick-ass wife, a good mom, get an MBA, surf averagely, buy a home, and avoid buying a mini-van at all costs.
It's all good. Most of the time.
