bare feet
To the doctors I have worked with in the past 4 weeks:
Last night I had a dream.
My feet hurt, not achingly, but with a searing, cut-and-burned pain. I sat down to take a look at them (for I had been working, inside and out in the garden, ignoring my bare feet). And oh, my soles, they were such a mess. My left sole was covered in straight cuts running at all angles. My right sole was covered in white blisters and -- on closer inspection -- was hanging half-off my foot. My foot had been transected horizontally from heel to mid-ball. There wasn't any blood, and when I pulled the cut open, there wasn't much pain. Just a thwapping sound, like flip-flop sandals make, as I let it spring back.
I held my soles up to the light. They were so ugly now. How did they get to be such a mess? What happened? (I had been working outside and inside, on my bare feet, ignoring the pain.) I mourned. My feet were such a mess.
One of the pediatric emergency room doctors was there. She is capable and casual, like someone's big sister, and as calm as anything. I was mourning for my ugly feet. I told her, I have been working in pain, outside and inside, ignoring my bare feet. I showed her my left foot and said My left sole is covered in straight cuts running at all angles. I have been working in the garden in bare feet. I am experiencing a burning, painful sensation. She looked at my left foot and said Those are not cuts. That is a classic terenoma pirialis infection. It is a nasty bacterium that lives in the soil, and burns its way into your sole when you work in bare feet. See the characteristic chain-like appearance of the lesions. I looked, and saw that the lines were as she described. I didn't know how I had missed that before. She moved on to look at my right foot and said And these are not white blisters. These are clusters of mortadema, a parasitic worm that burrows into the skin. She began to pull them out with tweezers, long white strands that felt like cotton yarn.
I said My work has taken me inside and outside, and I have ignored my bare feet. I said My right sole is hanging half-off my foot. And she said You have already begun to heal like that, with your foot transected horizontally from heel to mid-ball. She said See, the cut is dry and hard. She said There is nothing here for me to stitch. She said It may go back to normal with time, but you will have to see for yourself. It also may not.
My mother was lurking around somewhere, but I didn't want her to freak out at the state of my soles, and so I didn't look for her.
Then I woke up.
I went to work, but I was thinking about how four weeks of clerkship has made me feel further away from you, not closer. I watch you, and I have no clear picture of how I am supposed to become you. Also, I sympathize with your patients and their families (yes, even the difficult ones, even the ones you laugh at and roll your eyes about behind their backs), far more than you do. And I feel more kinship with them than I do with you.
It would not surprise me one bit, for example, if I learned that you laughed at me and rolled your eyes behind my back.
But for the most part I think you just aren't all that fussed about me one way or the other. I'm there, doing my thing, but I'm not doing it particularly well, or in a particularly helpful way. I go for lunch. I go to teaching. I go home at the end of the day, because there are no jobs I am capable of doing right now that would cause me to stay late.
So I don't feel like I'm really part of your club right now, and that's okay. I have mixed feelings about joining your club. To be honest.
But I'm paying attention, maybe more attention than I realized.
Sincerely (but not yours, not yet),
Strophie
(p.s. to my knowledge, neither of those bugs actually exists. I literally dreamed them up. and my feet are fine.)
Last night I had a dream.
My feet hurt, not achingly, but with a searing, cut-and-burned pain. I sat down to take a look at them (for I had been working, inside and out in the garden, ignoring my bare feet). And oh, my soles, they were such a mess. My left sole was covered in straight cuts running at all angles. My right sole was covered in white blisters and -- on closer inspection -- was hanging half-off my foot. My foot had been transected horizontally from heel to mid-ball. There wasn't any blood, and when I pulled the cut open, there wasn't much pain. Just a thwapping sound, like flip-flop sandals make, as I let it spring back.
I held my soles up to the light. They were so ugly now. How did they get to be such a mess? What happened? (I had been working outside and inside, on my bare feet, ignoring the pain.) I mourned. My feet were such a mess.
One of the pediatric emergency room doctors was there. She is capable and casual, like someone's big sister, and as calm as anything. I was mourning for my ugly feet. I told her, I have been working in pain, outside and inside, ignoring my bare feet. I showed her my left foot and said My left sole is covered in straight cuts running at all angles. I have been working in the garden in bare feet. I am experiencing a burning, painful sensation. She looked at my left foot and said Those are not cuts. That is a classic terenoma pirialis infection. It is a nasty bacterium that lives in the soil, and burns its way into your sole when you work in bare feet. See the characteristic chain-like appearance of the lesions. I looked, and saw that the lines were as she described. I didn't know how I had missed that before. She moved on to look at my right foot and said And these are not white blisters. These are clusters of mortadema, a parasitic worm that burrows into the skin. She began to pull them out with tweezers, long white strands that felt like cotton yarn.
I said My work has taken me inside and outside, and I have ignored my bare feet. I said My right sole is hanging half-off my foot. And she said You have already begun to heal like that, with your foot transected horizontally from heel to mid-ball. She said See, the cut is dry and hard. She said There is nothing here for me to stitch. She said It may go back to normal with time, but you will have to see for yourself. It also may not.
My mother was lurking around somewhere, but I didn't want her to freak out at the state of my soles, and so I didn't look for her.
Then I woke up.
I went to work, but I was thinking about how four weeks of clerkship has made me feel further away from you, not closer. I watch you, and I have no clear picture of how I am supposed to become you. Also, I sympathize with your patients and their families (yes, even the difficult ones, even the ones you laugh at and roll your eyes about behind their backs), far more than you do. And I feel more kinship with them than I do with you.
It would not surprise me one bit, for example, if I learned that you laughed at me and rolled your eyes behind my back.
But for the most part I think you just aren't all that fussed about me one way or the other. I'm there, doing my thing, but I'm not doing it particularly well, or in a particularly helpful way. I go for lunch. I go to teaching. I go home at the end of the day, because there are no jobs I am capable of doing right now that would cause me to stay late.
So I don't feel like I'm really part of your club right now, and that's okay. I have mixed feelings about joining your club. To be honest.
But I'm paying attention, maybe more attention than I realized.
Sincerely (but not yours, not yet),
Strophie
(p.s. to my knowledge, neither of those bugs actually exists. I literally dreamed them up. and my feet are fine.)