It all starts with blurry pink and blue and comes with a lot of self-doubts - What if I misdiagnose something? What if I make a mistake?
The first year as a Pathology resident is full of what-ifs. Your day begins early and with a lot of judgment from your clinical friends who, like you have also just started their residency and are probably unaware that they need you on their sides.
You get inside the laboratory and a chill passes down your spine (don't worry, it's just the air conditioner).The feeling of not belonging creeps in. The overwhelming state-of-the-art equipment you know nothing about and a certain newness you have never felt before.
At least that's what it was for me. Every morning I asked myself if Pathology is the right path for me! The first six months went by just familiarizing myself with the workflow and brushing up on my histology - God, how I wished I had paid attention to histology class in the first MBBS.
And then one random afternoon while you are observing your seniors gross, talking office politics, you hear your name, a prof asking you to identify a structure on a slide! Another wave of self-doubt gushes, but after about 30 seconds of staring into the blurry pink and blue, you utter words - Brunner's gland. Your teacher smirks and says carry on with your work.
That's the first glimmer of hope. The first of many more to come and you never really forget it.
Before you realize anything, you are already a second-year resident, with responsibilities and lots of work to do. This is also the most fun year. You are now on good terms with all of your clinical friends. You ask history. They ask for a diagnosis. You fix and gross and teach. You see slides and start your day with a smile thinking about all the patients you are going to diagnose. It's the year of conferences and paper presentations. You enter the lab and feel like there's no place else you belong more than this. You do procedures and report those yourself (of course after getting it cross-verified). This year teaches you a lot and takes a lot out of you. Remember, fix and gross and teach and repeat.
Then comes the hardest year of all - The final year! How are you already so close to taking the exam? and how in the world are you gonna be a Pathologist in another 6 months? And here you thought submitting the thesis would kill you. This is the year you are constantly surrounded by your over-enthusiastic juniors who want to know everything they ought to experience next year whilst also being constantly judged as equals by your attendings.
Life seems tough. You go to bed with books and wake up with one. The library becomes your second home and your co-residents, your second family. Hours become days and days turn into months and one fine day you are taking this mammoth exam and feel the pressure you have never felt before.
Remember the self-doubt from the first year? Oh yeah, that seems like a walk through the park. The what ifs. The unfamiliarity. The newness. Everything comes falling right back in.
But then, even with all the hurdles and tears, you see the result flashing - PASS and all is right with the world again. Every single patient you met, every single slide you screened, every little detail in the requisition form you obsessed over, every time your teacher was tough on you and every single topic you read through the night has made you a different person altogether. A diagnostician who will forever remain a student in her heart. Someone who will never take the smaller things about a patient for granted.
Blink.
And just like that, you are watching the sunset out the window, sipping your cup of tea, reflecting and writing about this journey on a day when a simple 'attention to detail' helped you catch leukemia in a patient at a resource-poor setup, far away from that state-of-the-art equipment or someone to cross-verify it for you! And you think to yourself - Girl, you have come far!
You smile and thank your stars for giving you this giant opportunity in this little thing called life.
Comments