Intrinsic Motivation

I have not tried to write anything for this blog in a very long time. The reasoning behind this decision is heavily influenced by the fact that I am failing the majority of my classes at the moment. It is altogether an incredibly stressful situation. I have stress headaches when I wake up that make me believe my blood sugar is elevated, and for about four or five days I smelled absolutely atrocious and inhumane. I am living through hell. As a type B personality, I have never been strung tighter. It is a very unnatural situation I find myself in at this moment.

But I've come to reconcile this. Very few people would ever be smart enough to be smart enough to get through medical school without studying. I tried to be that type of person. But alas, I am more or less just like everyone else I have ever met in my entire life.

Anyway, it's been hard for me to think about my life objectively while this has been going on. I've questioned myself a lot. I've wondered if I deserved to be a doctor. I guess because both of my parents made it, and because both of my parents seem relatable, I assumed that medicine was an accomplishable field. And I suppose it still is, but I have something to say…

In my thesis, I start off, early on, proclaiming that "some physicians suck." I immediately apologize. If you could get through this material then I trust you to treat me…

But do I really?

So I have spent the last two weeks thinking about why I deserve to be a physician, and I believe that I can explain why I should be a practicing doctor even though I am currently failing many classes at this point…

It's all about humanity.

Or at least, it's all about relating to other people and appearing human.

I have been diabetic for nine years. In that time, I've learned many things about myself. But I have not learned, not once, why diabetes is bad for me. I mean, I know the complications, and I know them in excruciating detail. Blindness, amputations, early death. But why is diabetes actually bad for you, instead of just being an annoyance?

I learned this, even when I was failing biochemistry. Will the majority of my patients want me to explain what regulates the Kreb Cycle? Or will the majority of my patients want me to tell them why having elevated blood sugars will severely affect their health?

Exactly.

Though to be fair, I love biochemistry. And I love all the classes I am taking right now. But to know that I am borderline failing them? I am not excited about that. Because who else could sit down with a patient and really hammer this out? Who could have the highest adherence rate around? Would it be me? A first year medical student who tests poorly? Or someone else? Who does really well on exams but is static in conversation and who never thinks about other people, other people's thoughts, or being an important pillar of society.

Clearly I am "just saying" at this point. I have started to improve my test scores. It is looking less plausible that I will "fail" all my classes. But I may not do super well in all of them. All I know, is that I am a damn good teacher. And I see my role as primary care physician as being very similar to that of an excellent grade school teacher. I need to know the topic well enough to instruct small children on it. I need to tell a diabetic why high blood glucose is bad for them, instead of scaring them with the associated affects.

And if that's what required of me, I will respect my responsibility. I didn't get into medicine to become smarter than everyone else. I got into medicine to help people like me, nine years ago, when I was scared and threatened yet excited by my prognosis, and still willing to waste the next nine years of my life joshing around and eating whatever the hell I wanted because I didn't really truly understand what was happening inside my body. That's not right.

I was a teenager when it happened. I attended one of the best schools in Illinois. I won a state wide competition in Science Olympiad. I was intelligent. I was curious. Hell, it was my body, and I had a right to know. You should have told me. You shouldn't have scared me with how serious it was, with threats of amputations and blindness. You just should have told me in ways I would have understood. I wasn't an idiot. I could have followed you. You should have at least tried.

I won't fail my patients, if only because I know what nine wasted years can mean.