Recently, I had the opportunity to go on a global health trip with my medical school to provide medical care for rural communities in Guatemala. We traveled to Quetzaltenango, more commonly known as Xela. I wrote this as my journal entry for one of the days of the trip…
There were approximately 5 times I considered lying down and giving up to become a decomposing corpse on a mountain in Guatemala. Let my ashes blend with those of Santiaguito.
I had two dislocated ribs prior to embarking on this journey to Guatemala and I thought “I will be fine. I’m doing the same things in Oklahoma that I would do in Guatemala.
Wrong.
There are no volcanoes in Oklahoma.
We pressed forward. Comforted by horses, mules, donkeys, dogs, cows, and a bull. As we climbed, we saw ashes falling around us, layering our beautiful surroundings, yet we pressed on. We fell multiple times, we took a lot of breaks, set little goals for ourselves, and we took it one little goal at a time. Making it halfway felt like the accomplishment of a lifetime. There were many times on the journey up that I asked myself, “What have I done? Will this be worth it? Is it too late to turn around? Can I just hitch a ride to the top?”
After making it to the top, I saw the volcano and it was still FOREVER away. (This was also not my first volcano to climb in my lifetime so I feel like my experience was less magical than most others.) I got to the little look-out and I thought: “Bro, I did all that and I still ain’t on top of that volcano.”
It felt like a twisted analogy of medical school. Work your butt off to get to the finish line, just to get there and have to still go through residency. And the whole time just working and hoping that when you get there that it’s actually worth it. During medical school, figurative ashes have fallen, family members have passed away, serious illnesses have been diagnosed, friendships get lost in the vog (I learned that means volcanic fog–you’re welcome). There have been many times I watched those ashes fall and I have kept climbing.
That volcanic climb was my reflection. I was annoyed with the journey, but honestly, it was gorgeous, it was an accomplishment, and I was proud of myself for making it.
Everyone else was very pleased with their volcanic view, but I was pleased with the accomplishment of the journey.
I spent more time looking at the view than I did the volcano. Trying to appreciate the fact that without all the mountains, the valleys, and even the violent forces under the earth, this volcano would not be possible.
Medical education is similar.
Without the drive and ambition to start the journey,
Without the heartache and frustration along the way,
Without the highs, the memories, the friendships,
Without the life lessons…
Becoming a physician wouldn’t be possible.
Much less becoming a great physician.
That’s always my goal.
It was a refreshing reminder that even though I am not on top of the volcano yet and the work isn’t over…I can still say that the journey has been worth it. It serves as a reminder that although ashes fall, and although I may also fall, I will always get back up, and press forward.
~Addison