I can't think of a single reason why I should be a surgeon, but I can think of a thousand reasons why I should quit. They make it hard on purpose... there are lives in our hands. There comes a moment when it's more than just a game, and you either take that step forward or turn around and walk away. I could quit but here's the thing, I love the playing field.
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Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.
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Remember when you were a kid and your biggest worry was, like, if you'd get a bike for your birthday or if you'd get to eat cookies for breakfast. Being an adult? Totally overrated. I mean seriously, don't be fooled by all the hot shoes and the great sex and the no parents anywhere telling you what to do. Adulthood is responsibility. Responsibility, it really does suck. Really, really sucks. Adults have to be places and do things and earn a living and pay the rent. And if you're training to be a surgeon, holding a human heart in your hands, hello? Talk about responsibility. Kind of makes bikes and cookies look really, really good, doesn't it? The scariest part about responsibility? When you screw up and let it slip right through your fingers.
Four hundred years ago, another well-known English guy had an opinion about being alone. John Donne. He thought we were never alone. Of course, it was fancier when he said it. "No man is an island entire unto himself." Boil down that island talk, and he just meant that all anyone needs is someone to step in and let us know we're not alone. And who's to say that someone can't have four legs. Someone to play with or run around with, or just hang out.
If you manage to overcome your boundaries, life on the other side is wonderful.
How do you know when how much is too much? Too much too soon. Too much information. Too much fun. Too much love. Too much to ask... And when is it all just too much to bear?
They say practice makes perfect. Theory is, the more you think like a surgeon, the more you become one. Better you get at remaining neutral, clinical. Cut, suture, close. And the harder it becomes to turn it off. To stop thinking like a surgeon and remember what it means to think like a human being.
Surgeons are control freaks. With a scalpel in your hand, you feel unstoppable. There's no fear, there's no pain. You're ten-feet tall and bulletproof. And then you leave the or. And all that perfection, all that beautiful control, just falls to crap.
No-one likes to lose control, but as a surgeon there's nothing worse. It's a sign of weakness, of not being up to the task. And still there are times when it just gets away from you. When the world stops spinning and you realize that your shiny little scalpel isn't gonna save you. No matter how hard you fight it, you fall. And it's scary as hell. Except there's an upside to freefalling. It's the chance you give your friends to catch you.
When you were a kid, it was Halloween candy. You hid it from your parents and you ate it until you got sick. In college, it was the heavy combo of youth, tequila and well, you know. As a surgeon, you take as much of the good as you can get because it doesn't come around nearly as often as it should. 'Cause good things aren't always what they seem. Too much of anything, even love, is not always a good thing.
If we're lucky we realize, in spite of everything, in spite of life, that the true dream is being able to dream again.