Diary of a Surgical Resident
On-Call Room
3:05AM
I remember that afternoon as clearly as if it were only a few hours ago, even though it is several lifetimes away now. The rain came down hard that game. Everyone knew that a storm was coming and yet we played anyway. Adrenaline and sheer competition drove all of us on the field that day. Compared to other countries in the world, America prefers football over soccer. But on the day of the Washington Independent League Women's Soccer Final, you wouldn't have been able to tell. I was a senior in college that year, just months away from starting medical school at Johns Hopkins. But during that game none of that mattered.
It started raining about 15 minutes in. By the time 30 minutes had gone by , the field had become a mud pit and the driving Seattle rain felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing my body. It was almost as if Zeus himself was punishing us for daring to play in such dangerous conditions. The water caused the field to be very slick and every single player on the pitch that day went down into the mud at some point.
By the time the game was over, I looked like some sort of creature from the trenches. The mud and rain seeped into my hair, clothes, and even my very skin. I was tired and every muscle in my body ached, but I didn't care.
My mom, who had actually made it to the game for the first time all season, said that she had never seen such determination and such passion in my face before. I had wanted to win that game so badly. I had done everything in my power to help us win that game. But we lost by one goal. Later that night, I was brooding on the couch and I'll never forget what my mom said to me. She said, "You can't save them all Caitlin."
Maybe that's why I'm sitting here typing a blog entry like a mad woman instead of sleeping like any other normal resident. I should introduce myself before I write anymore. Sorry, I'm new at this writing thing.
My name is Caitlin Grey and I am finishing my third year of residency at Johns Hopkins. I am a surgical resident with an emphasis in trauma surgery. A lot of surgeons haven't decided what kind of surgeon they want to be yet and that's normal because we're still rotating in different departments. But I guess you could say that I'm the exception in many ways.
And yes, you did read correctly. I said my name was Caitlin Grey and yeah I'm a surgeon's daughter. One of the best in fact. The one and only Ellis Grey. She's the top general surgeon in the country, but only I get to call her "mom" or sometimes "mommy" depending on my mood. Well...ok I'm not the only one, I have an older sister named Meredith. She's also a surgical resident at Seattle Grace Hospital where my mom happens to work.
It's at times like this that I wish they were here. We're not a family that gets along real well in life or even in work sometimes. But they would understand this. I lost a patient today. He was only 19. Stab wound to the abdomen. I was so close to being finished; to closing him up. And then out of nowhere, he starts bleeding out and I can't find the cause. He died under my hand.
His mother, brother, and aunt were in the waiting room. They all looked so ernest and hopeful when I came in. But that quickly faded once I opened my mouth and told them that we had done everything that we could. The grief just seemed to pour out of them and for some reason the sight of it bothered me.
I practically grew up in hospitals so I know what grief looks like and sounds like. I've had quite a few patients die while under my care. And while each death bothers me and I consider every life to be precious, this one stayed with me and I have no idea why.
At first I thought it was because I'm young and relatively inexperienced when it comes to life. I'm only 23. And I guess you could say I'm smart because I skipped high school. But I just call it boredom and good study skills. But getting back to the death, I don't think this patient's death stayed with me because I don't have a lot of life experience. I think this death stayed with me because I feel so defeated.
Hopkins is one of the best hospitals in the nation. This is where the best doctors are born. But what no one knows unless they've been here or read up on the surrounding neighborhood, is that the hospital is in the middle of one of the most violent neighborhoods in Baltimore. This fact makes for no shortage of traumas believe me. But the violence can wear on you after awhile.
I knew what I was getting into when I chose this specialty. Violence is part of the game and so is death. But it's hard when you're alone. Many of my fellow residents have people to go home to; whether they be boyfriends, girlfriend husbands, wives, or families. But I, on the other hand am isolated. My family is thousands of miles away.
And I really want to go home again. But I can't, at least not for now. This isn't the first time I've gotten homesick. I mean I was only 16 when I left home. But I didn't really think about going back until I took Christmas off and returned to Seattle. That's when I first felt the urge to come home. And it's funny because I thought that I would end up wanting to come back to Baltimore early considering that we haven't all lived under the same roof for nine years.
When my sister graduated from medical school, she decided to move back in with our mother. And at first I thought she had completely lost it because they've had a very strained relationship for a long time. It's still strained at times, but in some wierd way the arrangement works. I guess it's because they're both busy and they don't have time to sleep much, much less argue.
Whatever the reason is, it must be good because I've decided to transfer to Seattle Grace. I've got only one more week before the end of our year. And that's it. I'm going home.
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