Medicine is inherently uncertain.
The very nature of health and the human body make medicine, at best, an imprecise science, a science of educated guesses. Clinical diagnosis may seem rock solid to the patient, but the doctor can never be 100% sure.
I am never sure. I am never sure of my knowledge, of my skills, of my decisions. I know there is still so much to learn, and I am terrified that in two years time I will be about to begin my first job as a doctor.
I am even more terrified that I will be found wanting within those two years, and be sent down. I sometimes wish more than anything that I had chosen another career path, and yet I would not give this one up for the world. I am both longing for the nerve to leave, and find out what else I could do, and desperate to do my utmost, to win this fight and get through.
I am uncertain, which seems fitting.
For the moment, the medic in me is winning. I have almost regained my former passion. It is a hard won gain, and I fear the slightest knock could break it down.
But for now I am concentrating on being enough, because I want to be, not because I feel I ought to be.
PS Apologies for yesterday’s outburst. I have developed a crush on one of the guys I’m on placement with (stupid stupid stupid), and was just letting off a bit of steam. Alcohol is so good at loosening my tongue. Or fingers. Thoughts? Oh, whatever.