I struggle with this—the fear of how people perceive me.
I remember a friend from my short stint as a houseman. She had a reputation. Many labelled her as “problematic” and a “lone ranger.” She was in her fifth posting, nearing the end of her training. One day, I happened to work with her. To my surprise, she was a bit slow at catching up with orthopaedics. In hindsight, it makes sense—how could anyone remember every detail from a rotation they completed over two years ago?
Despite being a first-poster, I found myself teaching her some things. And I didn’t mind it.
But here’s what struck me most: she was completely at peace with who she was. She seemed to accept that many people disliked her—possibly due to her perceived incompetence or the way she sometimes relied on others. Still, she remained cheerful. Even when stressed, she never lashed out. I admire that about her. I wish I had that kind of emotional resilience.
---
This morning, I ran into an issue—again—with the consent form. It’s become a common occurrence, mostly because of how confusing the form is. What’s meant to be initialled often gets ticked instead. It may seem minor, but it's not. The study sponsor usually gets back to us, requesting corrections. This often means having the consenter re-sign the form—something quite inconvenient, especially when they’re family members who may have travelled far.
As usual, I reached out to the specialist in charge to retrieve the form. Most specialists are understanding, but today I dealt with someone new. She’s kind, but stern—and frankly, a bit intimidating. After speaking with the family, she told me she wouldn’t recruit patients into the study again unless this issue is properly addressed. She doesn’t tolerate inefficiency—and to be honest, she’s not wrong.
I didn’t take it personally. She had a valid point. But I couldn’t stop the wave of anxiety that came rushing in. It brought me back to past experiences—moments during housemanship when I was scolded or made to feel inadequate. It’s like those memories are stored on a loop, and my mind hits replay whenever I feel criticised.
If I could change just one thing about myself overnight, it would be this habit of endlessly replaying bad memories. I once saw a psychiatrist during housemanship and poured out all my frustrations. His advice? Just stop overthinking. It sounded so simple. And it probably is. But I still don’t know how to turn off that switch in my brain.
I know, I know, I know—but knowing doesn’t always mean doing. 😔
---
I wonder how long it will take for me to curb this habit once I return to housemanship. Will I still struggle with it? Does it get better with time? Honestly, if it doesn’t, I’m not sure if becoming a doctor is right for me. I can’t imagine living under constant stress for the rest of my life. I’m not the kind of person who can just keep going while being constantly criticised or overwhelmed. I see that kind of resilience in my extroverted friends, and I envy them for it. But at the same time, that emotional detachment often comes at the cost of empathy—something I never want to lose. I hate feeling like I’m standing at a crossroads, unsure which path will let me be both strong and kind.
No comments
Post a Comment