In the hospital with a loved one...
I'm sometimes amazed at the thoughts that run through our mind at times of stress. I was by a loved one's side this morning as she was being prepared for surgery. An attractive male anesthesiology nurse was putting in her IV, being careful, gentle, and attentive. The doctor standing across from me was explaining the surgery, waiting patiently for me to translate. There were machines beeping and people hurrying around. The never-changing smell of a hospital mingled with the strained humor meant to keep up the spirits--hers or ours, I wasn't sure.
And while I'm assuming I should have been praying for the doctor's knowledge and skills to produce a favorable result, all I could really do was look around at the medical personnel around me and wonder: how diligent were YOU in your studies? Are you the guy who spent nights studying, dreaming of the day they'd put an "M.D." after your name or are you the one who went along with the plan someone else made for you, partying and not caring, cramming, and then forgetting the information? Did you go to medical school for the pleasure of helping others or for the impressive paycheck and a summer home near a luxurious ski resort?
Why couldn't I keep my mind out of the nursing staff's past and out of the doctor's intentions? Won't they do a good job regardless? Why couldn't I at this time be as idealistic and hopeful as I am in most other situations? Why am I more critical and suspicious of a doctor when the life of a loved one in in his hands than I am of a police officer with a gun when I drive through a bad neighborhood? After all, I never think if they became a cop to protect the law or to have access to guns and power.
Yet even among suspicion and worry, there is still a large amount of trust than one puts into a doctor: he knows more, he can do what we can't, he is the one we pray for as much as the person being operated on.
And while I'm assuming I should have been praying for the doctor's knowledge and skills to produce a favorable result, all I could really do was look around at the medical personnel around me and wonder: how diligent were YOU in your studies? Are you the guy who spent nights studying, dreaming of the day they'd put an "M.D." after your name or are you the one who went along with the plan someone else made for you, partying and not caring, cramming, and then forgetting the information? Did you go to medical school for the pleasure of helping others or for the impressive paycheck and a summer home near a luxurious ski resort?
Why couldn't I keep my mind out of the nursing staff's past and out of the doctor's intentions? Won't they do a good job regardless? Why couldn't I at this time be as idealistic and hopeful as I am in most other situations? Why am I more critical and suspicious of a doctor when the life of a loved one in in his hands than I am of a police officer with a gun when I drive through a bad neighborhood? After all, I never think if they became a cop to protect the law or to have access to guns and power.
Yet even among suspicion and worry, there is still a large amount of trust than one puts into a doctor: he knows more, he can do what we can't, he is the one we pray for as much as the person being operated on.