Examination Room

I'm writing the first entry of 2012 in a cold, bare examination room at the health clinic for my Primary Care rotation. It's an odd place to be writing, and I feel strange doing so in an environment so impersonal and different than anything I've ever identified myself with. And yet here I am, with a stained short white coat on, with some time in between patients, writing about how I'd rather be elsewhere.

More than halfway into my clinical year as a physician assistant student, I have yet to overcome the nagging feeling that I don't belong in medicine. When people ask me what I study, or what I do and I say "PA", I almost feel like an impostor, as if I still don't really belong to the field of medicine and feel guilty for leading others to assume so. Many of my patients here at Covenant House are young and trying to figure out what they want to do in life (while the rest are fixed on becoming famous rappers or actors), and they often ask me if I've always wanted to "be a doctor". I usually say "not exactly, but I've always wanted to help people..." but it somehow unsettles me a bit. I truly wish I was more clear about my dreams and knowing where I want to be in 10 years, instead of just knowing where I don't want to be.

This year has started off being very different than I expected. My first week of 2012 has been surprisingly emotional and trying. I entered this year with high hopes of being able to smoothly transition into a post-graduate life of independence, which I realize now will be more challenging. My plans haven't changed, but I've had to significantly increase (or at least try to increase) the level of trust in God coming through for me in those plans. I now have many conflicting emotions about my future, and sitting here in this quiet clinic this afternoon only serves to make them more poignant. It frightens and frustrates me that I cannot see beyond these four walls, and that I cannot provide a clearer response for where I'd rather be if I could leave them.

All I know is this nervous energy, this piercing longing, and this guilty dissatisfaction. Much of it has been aggravated by the response of my dad to my plans for my future. It's funny how there seems to be a crossroad in which the parents become more like the child and the child more like the parent. Perhaps it's the realization that parents also happen to be shockingly human that has me struggling to adjust. I've never felt like I had to be the one to swallow my words and pray that my dad sees reason and will choose to do what is right for me and not just for his own peace of mind.

So here I am, at the start of a new year that we're all excited and anxious for. And for the first time in my life, I truly have no idea exactly what my life will be like in another 365 days. All I know is that in a year, I'll look back on this entry and marvel at how little I know now, and how far I will have gone by then. And my prayer is that it will be one step closer to the calling that God has created for me.