It is so disempowering to have no control over sleep and other bodily patterns. To not be allowed rest, food or time to go to the bathroom: this is how residency breaks us. Hot tears poured down my face tonight, as I thought of the full schedule of people who don’t get better I will be seeing tomorrow after answering phone calls for people who aren’t really sick all night. And this echoes through my mind: I didn’t chose this. But maybe He did. And that makes me cry even more.
Sometimes, life breaks our hearts. All we can do is hope we are on the quick track to God redeeming every bit of it for good.
It’s easy to be brave when one refuses to look at the value of what is being lost. It’s so much harder to count the cost before going off to war. As therapists say: we must do the work. And the work is tears, and prayer, and waiting.
My. God. Hurry into our brokenness: We can barely speak from the anguish of it all. Be the Center. (Because YOU ARE).