Alright, this blog needs a reboot. Actually, I needed (and got) a reboot and by extension, this blog will be rebooted. So I'm coming back, with a vengeance, and I'm re-committing myself to that thing I love, which is surgery / griping about surgery. Be prepared!
Since I last posted back in March, I went back to Shmanhattan for a 2 month surgical rotation. Suffice to say, it was eventful and I learned a lot. I'm going to be posting about individual themes of that rotation in the coming days, including politics, women in surgery and being an asshole (referring to myself here). But before I get into all of that stuff, I'm going to take a break for a moment and post about a major life event.
I broke up with my boyfriend of three years. (Oh god, this sounds so 1990's MTV-angsty.) It was a big deal. The relationship had degenerated beyond all possible repair, and I had turned into this terrible person who had lost all of her spark, strength and excitement for life, not to mention being completely consumed with heartbreak and anger. It was bad. I finally got to a point where I demanded a solution from my boyfriend, one I had been asking for for months, but at this point wasn't going to do anything. And while talking to my friends and family, I realized that I was reaching for this solution not because it was the best one, but because it was the only one. I had literally exhausted all of the options, and given all of the chances, and not made one ounce of progress. It was killing me. It wasn't working.
I was heartbroken that it couldn't work, and wouldn't work, and I ended it. But if I'm honest with myself, I have to report, on paper, that I am infinitely happier. I haven't looked back for one second. I look forward to each day, and to meeting new people, and to starting a new relationship with someone else. I see my friends and family again with regularity, and I know I did the right thing if I felt more alone and neglected in my relationship than I do now that I am actually single. I feel completely taken care of by my loved ones, in a way that the relationship could never fulfill. I feel completely taken care of by myself. I am, in short, back from the dead.
And that's really all there is to say about that. My 2 week vacation started yesterday at 5:05 pm, and I am flying to London on Wednesday to see my sister. I'm thrilled at my life and what it has, and excited (but scared) that after my ER rotation in June, I will be a second year surgical resident. I survived. But more importantly, I thrived. And in 4 short years, I will have arrived.