Today my life in Santa Rosa ends. My friendships will continue; the knowledge I've gathered will last as long as my mind allows; my passion for mushrooms of the northern California coast and my enjoyment of vineyard speckled landscapes will surely endure forever. But my heart will mourn for many of my dear patients who will more than likely remain in poverty and my eyes will shed tears for the company of family that embraced me over those joyful but strenuous three years.
When I set out for Northern California in 2014, I expected to develop a sophisticated palate for local wines, but rather I contracted a heightened taste for IPA craft beer. I expected that I would go to Santa Rosa and obtain a solid education in family medicine, but did not anticipate to be educated deeply on the effects of racism on health, the harms of structural violence from society and our governments, and the expansive job description of physicians requiring us to fight for social justice. I expected I would find friends to have dinner with and vent over long and busy shifts, but how could I have predicted that I'd find the warmest souls and brightest adventurers to endure the pains of practicing medicine, the heartache of patients' deaths, and the injustices against our community. I was certain I'd be surrounded by passionate people, but little did I know their passion would supersede our shared love of family medicine. With them, I would discover bold and overflowing passion for animals, equality, nature, climate, religion and faith, exercise, diversity, youth mentorship, and food. I've learned so much from them and have learned even more about myself on this three year journey.
I learned how courageous I can be, how strong my voice is, how my duty as a physician is far larger than my ability to practice good medicine. I learned that reflection, either through writing, facilitated group check ins, or with relationships, is powerful and healing. I learned that I can accept help without the intense sensation of being indebted, because not every act of kindness necessitates repayment. We must merely continue to pay it forward. I learned how to appreciate my hardships as lessons and character building, as a means to connect and an opportunity to grow. I learned that I am sensitive. Well I already knew this, but I can say I've grown to embrace it. I learned to appreciate and prioritize wellness and self care by making most of my meal choices healthy ones and by gifting my body, so intricately designed by God to be agile and capable, with movement. I afford my muscles an opportunity to strengthen and my cardiovascular system a test of endurance. I've grown as a leader, sharpened my skills as a writer, and emboldened my mind to better advocate for myself in moments of conflict. And most importantly, I learned that I need to be more gentle and forgiving when I fall short, that I must continue to value and strive for balance, and that quite simply, I am still a work in progress.
As a doctor, I blossomed, but am still young. As a child, my perception of a doctor was an all-knowing savior with earned privileges. As a pre-med student, it shaped into a hard working individual with a commitment to the health of people. As a medical student, I was tested on the tenants of being a physician, to do benefit and no harm, to allow autonomy and ensure that our services are just. And after my tutelage in Santa Rosa, my understanding of this role has not only broadened but deepened. My role as a doctor is to recognize the shortcomings of my patients, but to convict the unfair circumstances promoted by society, to understand the cycles of poverty and addiction, and to appreciate the desire to be healthy but rarely being equipped with the resources to succeed. My role is to promote health with close attention to mental health, to be adept in communicating with those whose education is minimal so their minds can be armed with information, to be compassionate to the mind hijacked by drugs and alcohol, to find middle ground for the difficult personalities that often reflect decades of abuse and neglect. My role is to do my best when we're asked to practice in resource poor settings, when our patients' compliance is compromised by things outside of their control, and when there is not always a single right answer. I learned that patients expect a smart doctor, but even more so yearn for compassion and communication. I learned that every day my patients are slaves to judgement and that they don't need it from the healthcare system. My job description has lengthened far greater than I ever imagined.
In residency, I was constantly living in a world of dichotomies. Sometimes it was as simple as having an overwhelming and pure love for what I do, but other times absolutely despising it (often provoked by extreme fatigue that prevented me from loving it in a foolproof manner). And sometimes it was as complex as delivering a stillborn and providing support to the mother as she quietly cried, and then being tasked with finding an inner joy to step into the next room to deliver the baby of ecstatic new parents. Then there were days when I fantasized about the long white coat trailing me as I quickly marched through the hospital halls and there were other days when the heavy burden of doctoring felt like the weight of a thousand worlds sitting on my shoulders. There were episodes of seemingly unforgivable regret in choosing a sometimes thankless and emotionally taxing specialty and other times when I praised my triumphs and moved forward with the belief that my work could save the world. The emotions were often so starkly divided that it took intense dedication to understanding valleys that are not always vindicated and clutching peaks that symbolize the efforts and sacrifices of everyone involved. I have learned so greatly, and so precious is the knowledge that I never want to stop learning.
I am incredibly gracious for the lessons of Santa Rosa. I am thankful my patients who shared their vulnerabilities with me and worked by my side, often as teachers of human nature and mentors in patience, as I cared for them. I am thankful to all my mentors who imparted far more than the science of medicine, but also kindly shared their wisdom regarding the art of medicine. I am thankful to the entire team who works to care for patients alongside me, particularly my medical assistant who welcomed me into her life and always gently nudged me in the right direction. I am thankful to this small city for providing a home to me and Aaron as we grew in our partnership. Santa Rosa provided abundant opportunities to explore the diverse living world around us- among ocean fronts and atop breathtaking mountains. I am thankful to have discovered the world of fungi and their beautiful fruiting bodies, mushrooms. Like me, the mushrooms sprouted when the conditions of the environment were prime and with an intense network of mycelium and comensal relationships intertwining beneath to support its unique beauty.
And to Aaron who ventured west with me, you are my soulmate. You are the love that gives me strength and the calm that brings me peace. This would not have been possible without your unwavering support. Over the last month, I would say we have successfully celebrated our life in Santa Rosa. We have spent precious time with our friends, we celebrated graduation with a perfect ceremony attended by my family, we celebrated love and marriage, we traveled flawlessly in a large group to Hawaii.
And most notably and from the bottom of my heart, I am thankful to my friends for loving me and my weaknesses. If not for you, I wouldn't have endured the death of the precious but fatally sick newly born baby, the suffocating need to know every answer, and the immovable sadness of inequality. Thank you. I am honored to have trained by your side and among the shepherding of the Santa Rosa Family Medicine Residency.
This post is in honor of nostalgia and introspection, but mostly nostalgia.
Beautiful & profound.
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