The coffee maker in the sign out room looked very complicated. Apart from the fact that it was going to be the first time I would ever use one, there was a warning sign on the wall behind it. “Please do not use the coffee maker and the microwave together!” I sat on a sofa by it’s side. Unsuspiciously observing people who made coffee for themselves. Learning one step at a time—how to use a coffee maker. Later that day, “I decided I will quit coffee altogether!”
There were many such instances of disguised and sometimes florid symptoms of imposter syndrome I went through in my first year at Metropolitan hospital.
On my last day of residency, my instagram post read, “I would not do it any other way.” My first week at Woodhull as an attending has been a comparison nightmare. While I understand that like no two people, no two institutions are the same. And I have already started noticing some beautiful aspects of Woodhull hospital’s internal residency program. But regardless, I find myself, sometimes vocally with the residents, mentioning, “…well, at Metro….” I am trying to set up an internal alarm against that. A work in progress.
The point is, Metropolitan hospital has inevitably and very deeply shaped the doctor I am today. I would like to believe that all the comparison I have in my head are just the testament of the beautiful three years at Metro that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
Someone wrote in the WhatsApp group “Who is doing the RRTs today? They called one overhead.” I rush to the scene to find Marlon has already taken care of it. He finished his Endo clinic and decided to casually help me out.
I woke up in utter confusion to my phone ringing, “Sajannn is everything alright?” Oh, shit! I overslept Haider, I am sorry. What is it 7:30?” I was supposed to start my night shift at 7 PM. Haider says,”Don’t worry about it. We will order food and enjoy until you arrive.”
These instances were just any mundane Wednesday for me at Metro.
Limited resources is the name of the game in any public hospital system. It very rarely happens that your needs are logistically fulfilled. But, at Metro, they are compensated with a couple of listening ears, empathizing minds and friends who would teach you to laugh at misery rather than let it collude your headspace.
I have been a July PGY-2 twice, long story, but probably one of the best things I’ve experienced. That means there are many glorious PGY-2s and PGY-3s now whom I still view as babies. Make no mistake they are among the best residents but it is just a thing about residency that once you train your intern you cannot help but feel like you are their guardian forever.
I will always miss going into the busy signout room and checking the overnight admissions, dreding the nurse calling for “difficult IVs”, spending hours at ping pong table, studying for the boards together with friends, end of rotation lunch with my attendings and admitting one guy with mechanical heart valve 13 times in three years with the same H&P. Christmas celebration would struggle keeping up with the celebration of sharing the guilty pleasure smoothy from Moe’s at 11 PM because Dr. So and So did not show up as today’s ED attending.
Every friend I made at Metro, I’ve met them twice for the first time. Thank you COVID. I remember struggling to remember the names of my batch-mates. Today, I am sure, I will call my family by those names when I hit dementia. I would really not do it any other way.