Through the looking glass

As fascinating, frustrating and completely disheveling parenting is proving out to be, today my post is not about my son. My blog’s timeline is proof that I do not write often. When I do, it is the result of a stroke of inspiration combined with an hour or two of time otherwise unoccupied. As much as I would want them to, the two seldom occur simultaneously.

 

I have been meaning to put pen to paper about this itch at the back of my mind, that has been bothering me for a while. I finished my radiology training five years ago. Since, I have worked in high-volume government medical colleges and expensive private hospitals, gaining some perspective on the matter at hand.  

 

When residents first enter the halls of Radiology, they are brimming with pride, eager to learn. They have earned their place and are here to prove it. And while they see exceptional diagnoses being made and interventions being done, they also watch seniors getting frustrated and reacting to circumstances. And surely enough, as radiology is passed down to them, so is the behaviour. It starts with the patients, because our attitude towards them is usually inconsequential.  But slowly the circle of apathy grows to engulf more people in. Soon enough our colleagues from other branches get dragged in. And finally, the bottom of the foodchain, our juniors. 

 

I didn’t intend to make this a “be nice” lecture post. But I worry this is changing us irreversibly. It is making every unkind gesture acceptable to ourselves. We are letting this arrogance be a part of our upbringing as radiologists. We justify this new attitude we adorn by saying we are are overworked, underpaid and uncared for. And we are too. No questions there.  But blaming the system hasn’t gotten anybody anywhere. Let’s face it. Nobody is coming to rescue us. But we must not let this change us as human beings. How can we let our frustration overshadow the life changing and immensely satisfying work we do every day?

 

At the end of the day when we lay in bed deciding whether or not our day was satisfying, the sole determinant isn’t the number or complexity of cases we cracked. It is also how well we tamed our frustration when we were most expected to lose our calm. How we stepped in to fill in for somebody else’s slack. How when it was easiest to slap blame on another, we chose to take the high road. 

 

Imagine your ten-year-old self standing in your shoes today. Would they yell at patients for not bringing their previous reports or would they be understanding? Would they dismiss off that desperate medicine resident who had come to request a scan or would they have made a new friend? Would they turn a blind eye to the overwhelmed junior crying in the duty room or would they try cheering them up with a chocolate? Would they not beam with pride seeing how far they have come? How every case they solve makes a world of a difference to another human being? How their work gets them more adrenaline than adventure sports? I believe all our decisions would be simpler to make if we simply looked at our lives through the hopeful and kind eyes of our ten-year-old selves. 

 

So yes, life may seem unfair, work overwhelming, pays meager, free time non-existent and souls battered. But I know that my ten-year-old self would be super proud if she saw me at work. And that thought makes all the struggles worthwhile.