Rhythms of Life

Last week, my clinical supervisor called me into his office to deliver my final evaluation. He wore a stern expression on his face as he looked it over. “You did terribly,” he said in a frustrated voice before adding “Just kidding!” with a big smile. I shook his hand, and with that, wrapped up the third foundation of my medical studies.

For the last two months, we’ve been knee-deep in the renal and reproduction systems. Surprisingly, the kidneys are some of the most complicated organs in the body and inevitably a challenge for those trying to master their physiology. They involve a seemingly endless number of intricate mechanisms and functions, including the regulation of blood pressure, electrolytes and acid-base balance. It took several grueling study sessions before these concepts finally “clicked” in my brain. As part of clinical skills training, we’ve learned how to do a Pap smear on a model and watched a rather graphic video about childbirth.

Undoubtedly, though, my best learning has taken place in the clinic. I spend ten hours a week doing electives in Family Medicine, Hematology and Pediatric Neurology, which, in my opinion, are far more immersive and interesting than the monotonous pages of any textbook. Surprisingly, I’ve had several minor accomplishments. I counseled a woman about quitting smoking. She’s now trying out Champix, an effective new drug that diminishes nicotine cravings. I’ve also done my share of physical exams, finding a couple suspicious lumps on a routine lymph exam last week.

It feels good to immerse myself into a steady rhythm of life, a rhythm that involves solid study sessions, clinic time, lectures and tutorials. The day begins at 7 with a hot cup of tea and ends with a trip to a yoga studio, where I do plank poses and Downward Dogs in 40-degree temperatures.

I'm currently reading Dr. James Orbinski's "An Imperfect Offering", a fascinating glimpse into his life as a doctor with Medicins Sans Frontieres. I enjoy reading medical memoirs because they give me some perspective; that, despite seeming like I'll be in school forever, one day I will indeed be a trained doctor and able to pursue my dreams. 

Tomorrow we start bright and early with our fourth foundation, which will cover immunology and neoplasms. I'm looking forward to meeting my new tutorial group and tackling "Janeway's Immunobiology." By this point, I've learned how to study well and have become quite comfortable in the curriculum. I feel an urgent desire to get as much knowledge under my belt before rotations begin in November, when the real challenge begins. 

Somewhere

The old woman lies in her hospital bed room, emaciated and feverish. There are steel spikes in her throat, the consequence of a strep infection that makes it almost impossible for her to swallow solid food. Exhaustion soaks into her bones ... even sitting up leaves her tired. Days and nights blur together and time means nothing. Her only task is to sleep and eat, sleep and eat until she finally passes away.

Despite all this, she says that she feels a deep sense of contentment. She is surrounded by people she loves and always has a niece or nephew around to entertain her. Beside her bed is a large, double-paned window that looks out onto a street dotted with quaint stores and coffee shops. She remembers playing along this street as a child, when six hours could so easily be swallowed up with simple games.

But things are different now. As she moved from childhood through adolescence and finally into adulthood, her outlook on life steadily changed. She has become more of a realist. She doesn't see the world as boundless, but rather quite limited by the realities of flesh and blood. She has seen friends come and go, family members pass away. She has had profound personal experiences with aging, suffering, illness and now, finally, death.

And yet while many languish in pain and loneliness in the final chapter of their lives, she feels satisfied. Her life has been full of friendship and love. She followed her dreams, married the man she loved and raised a beautiful family. She devotedly took care of others for many years. Now, her children and grandchildren, nephews and nieces - and all the others whom she touched with her kindness - come to the hospital to be at her bedside. Now they take care of her, doting on her with small gifts and kind wishes.

Her faith in God sustains her. It's easy to look down upon another's religious or spiritual beliefs, to question their logic ... but for this woman, at this moment, her faith gives her great strength and optimism. She does not see herself just as a dying, physical being, but rather as a soul ready to escape its material confines and ascend to Heaven.

She will go somewhere where there is no suffering, somewhere where she will be rewarded for a lifetime of faith and service. 

True Love

My next-door neighbors are a beautiful young family with three small children. One parent has a natural green thumb, planting her flower seeds in such a way that her front lawn blossoms into vibrant hues of orange and yellow every spring. The other is an expert cook. She never fails to bake us a delicious blueberry pie on Christmas Eve.

My neighbors seem to go all out for every special occasion; on Hallowe’en their house is decorated with cotton spider webs and Styrofoam tombstones; on Christmas they place an enormous blow-up Santa near their front steps; and on Easter, their kids dress up as rabbits, dashing around in a frenzied attempt to find hidden chocolate eggs.

This beautiful, loving family would never have even existed fifty years ago. Because, despite their dedication to their children, the parents would have been socially ostracized for the simple fact that they are both women.

Across the span of history, gay men and women have often lived at the peripheries of society, shameful of their true attractions and fearful of being discovered. As a result, they have often married the opposite sex, foregoing the opportunity for genuine relationships and true love, aspects of life perhaps more celebrated than any others. How many relationships have been prevented by irrational stigma? How many soulmates have been kept apart?

I’m proud to call myself a Canadian because, on the whole, a Canadian has the reputation of being a moderate, someone who eschews the extremes for the middle ground… for common sense. We’ve allowed gays to serve in our military because we know that they are fundamentally just as brave and capable as anyone else. We’ve allowed them equal rights of marriage because we know that their feelings are real, that their relationships are genuine.

The world has no shortage of suffering. The Intensive Care Unit at the Hamilton General Hospital, where I train every week, is full of the sick and dying. While we may be young and healthy now – perhaps even feel invincible – we will inevitably be consumed by aging and illness.

Why then, in the midst of all this suffering, would we ever consciously choose to destroy the opportunity for love between two people? Love that might blossom and pass down through the generations, strengthening the fabric of our society.

We would only consciously make this choice out of ignorance and fear. Because once we truly make an effort to get to know and understand gay people, we realize that they love as deeply, feel as deeply and care as deeply as anyone else.

As spring arrives, I look forward to seeing my neighbours’ lawn blossom once again. I look forward to the excited sounds of children drawing chalk patterns on the sidewalk and playing their imaginary games. I’m not sure what the future holds for them; perhaps they will be very successful in life, or perhaps they will be hampered by failure and unmet expectations. Whatever happens, I know that they will be able to look back at their childhood, at their two moms, and say that they were truly loved.