My Battle With Behcets

I cleaned off the dust that covered my stethoscope, literally. I also metaphorically wiped away the dust that built up over these 9 months where I did not participate in medical school. A layer of dust on my education that I finally began to wipe away during one day working with a preceptor at the children’s hospital. I felt so uncomfortable in the hospital where I previously had spent so much time learning. I used to walk the halls with a slight sense of ownership, but now I walked them looking down at my feet and avoiding eye contact. I felt like I didn’t belong. A few weeks ago I was in a hospital bed as role of patient. Today, I switched into role as provider. And it was more terrifying than my first day as a medical student. I think it is because I understand better the feelings that patients and their families experience. Feelings that I previously was ignorant of and never addressed during patient care. I am certainly better for it, now that I am aware of the deep rooted fears, anxieties, worries, and hopes that my patients experience. But now I feel distant from my mentors who I once connected with because of my love for medicine. My experiences as a patient have lead to strain in many relationships, because as much as they try to, my friends and family just don’t understand. I find myself fighting to keep relationships that were formed when I was healthy and different. I don’t know when I should let go of old friendships and when I should seek to form new bonds. Ultimately, being chronically ill is lonely. I absolutely will continue to fight for relationships because it is important to be around others. I will fight to not be lonely. But I don’t really know how to move past this sense of longing that I experience. I did experience happiness that I haven’t felt in months when I was able to participate in patient care again, so I am finding more opportunities for patient care. I am hopeful that continued exposure will make the sense of not belonging get weaker and my love for medicine to get stronger. Things are different now, but different doesn’t have to be bad. I continue to grieve my life before my diagnosis, but I also am still moving forward, every day.