Today I took a short nature walk to escape the tangles of axons and nuclei and cranial nerves that I am supposed have memorized. As chance would have it, I noticed a group of people with cameras staring up into a tree. Curiously, I wandered over only to see a large grey owl, perched on a great arched branched. As the crowd grew bored and eventually disbanded, the owl rotated its head 180 degrees, opened its eyes and stared right at me. We made unbreaking eye contact for a short while until it blinked slowly, resumed grooming, and then spun its head back around the other way and began to doze. I stared in amazement for well over 20 minutes just admiring its beauty and unexpected comfort with my presence. Never have I seen a bird so close and so unfazed by the hordes of people stopping to photograph it. Despite being somewhat out in the open in broad daylight, it went on with grooming and sleeping as if none of us existed.
As I headed back, I realized that I am slowly becoming more like this owl: learning to complete my daily tasks and remain calm in the face of vulnerability, incessant observation and evaluation. Last week I dissected a human brain. It still boggles my mind that I held the closest thing to a soul in my own two hands. That brain once actively expressed thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears, memories. THAT brain was once a person - something I still haven't fully wrapped my head around. And I finally had the courage to stare death in the face and look into the eyes of the donors who so graciously donated their bodies so I could learn. This was something I was far from ready to do last year, and yet here I am. Ever nearer is the transition into working with real people and having to translate all that knowledge in my head into competent care. The mere thought of it sets my heart aflutter from both excitement and mild terror.
But like how I became comfortable in the anatomy lab, I have no doubt it will eventually happen in every stage as I advance in my studies. I just need to remember to be like that owl. Calm, poised, confident - words I would rarely use to describe myself but need to learn. Hopefully, one day I too will be at peace with my own vulnerability and the perpetual uncertainty that is medicine.
As I headed back, I realized that I am slowly becoming more like this owl: learning to complete my daily tasks and remain calm in the face of vulnerability, incessant observation and evaluation. Last week I dissected a human brain. It still boggles my mind that I held the closest thing to a soul in my own two hands. That brain once actively expressed thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears, memories. THAT brain was once a person - something I still haven't fully wrapped my head around. And I finally had the courage to stare death in the face and look into the eyes of the donors who so graciously donated their bodies so I could learn. This was something I was far from ready to do last year, and yet here I am. Ever nearer is the transition into working with real people and having to translate all that knowledge in my head into competent care. The mere thought of it sets my heart aflutter from both excitement and mild terror.
But like how I became comfortable in the anatomy lab, I have no doubt it will eventually happen in every stage as I advance in my studies. I just need to remember to be like that owl. Calm, poised, confident - words I would rarely use to describe myself but need to learn. Hopefully, one day I too will be at peace with my own vulnerability and the perpetual uncertainty that is medicine.
