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Communication. It's the first thing we really learn in life. Funny thing is, once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking the harder it becomes to know what to say. Or how to ask for what we really need.

At the end of the day, there are some things you just can't help but talk about. Some things we just don't want to hear, and some things we say because we can't be silent any longer. Some things are more than what you say, they're what you do. Some things you say cause there's no other choice. Some things you keep to yourself. And not too often, but every now and then, some things simply speak for themselves.

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As surgeons, there are so many things we have to know. We have to know we have what it takes. We have to know how to take care of our patients... and how to take care of each other. Eventually, we even have to figure out how to take care of ourselves. As surgeons we have to be in the know. But as human beings, sometimes it's better to stay in the dark, because in the dark there may be fear, but there's also hope.

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Pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breath deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can't outrun it and life always makes more.

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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.

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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.

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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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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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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.

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I have an aunt who whenever she poured anything for you she would say "Say when". My aunt would say "Say when" and of course, we never did. We don't say when because there's something about the possibility, of more. More tequila, more love, more anything. More is better.

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We're adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?