Administration

The administrative process I’m navigating in order to become a surgical assist is, as expected, composed of numerous requests, emails, consent forms, conversations, and hoops to jump through. It is very apparent that I cannot make the assumption that the left hand knows what the right hand is doing, which means writing many emails and having several phone calls to make sure that everyone is on the same page. That being said, I think it will come together in the end. It is just a matter of how much time it will take.

I value the flexibility of surgical assisting.  In theory, I can decide when I will work, and with whom, which allows me to work around my family’s schedule. In reality, it may take longer to get into some sort of regular work.  While there is always a “need” for assistants, there are also a few regular ones working at my hospital already. I don’t wish to step on their toes. In another nearby hospital, I have heard that there is a need for assists, but I’m still waiting for confirmation on that. It all comes down to putting myself out there again, something I haven’t had to do for a while. I’m OK with that though, because so much of the actual work comes down to who you know and how well they know you. And that will come with time. 

There is definitely part of me that is both amused and irritated that I must prove myself as an assist. Before my leave of absence, I was in the OR working in some capacity for 18 years. This stuff is burned into my brain to such an extent that I dream about being in the OR and operating at least once a week. I’ve been very intrigued by these dreams, as they’ve been going on for at least six months, if not longer. For one thing, I don’t usually remember my dreams, but these dreams are always very vivid and intense, though never scary.  I’m operating on complex cases and working with teams of people, much like residency.  Staff surgeons and residents are mostly women, and are strong ones at that. It’s exciting, daunting, inspirational, complex and fascinating.  Admittedly, some of the surgeries are weird, and don’t exist in real life. But the anatomy is cool nonetheless, and the teamwork cohesive. And what’s so amazing to me is that I’ve never been someone who has the same dream over and over.  These surgical dreams are different each time, but when I figured out that I was having the same type of dream again and again, I became curious and was tantalized by whatever was going on in my subconscious. That, and I took it as a sign that it was time to get back into the OR. 

I see that a recurrent theme is that this whole process will take time to come together. I’m not feeling impatient, but it’s clear to me that now is the right time for this to happen.  This next chapter, and however it is to unfold, is ready to start. I can quite confidently say that for many, many reasons, the time was most certainly not right before now.  Part of it has to do with wellness, and having this chronic illness called depression well managed is paramount.  Part of it has to do with finding a better balance between confidence and shame, between self-belief and fear. The culture of medical training and much of the hospital work milieu have the propensity to erode any feelings of self-worth one may have; I have no doubt that this is one of the main reasons why physicians, especially female physicians, have such a high rate of suicide. I was fortunate to not become consumed by this perceived lack of resilience, and to become well when I did. More on resilience next time; it’s a subject dear to my heart.