Blessings of Child Psychiatry

Child psychiatry is a hidden blessing. I've shadowed the same doctor twice, and each time, I learn a few new things. They're all relevant and all important, but in shadowing the life of a doctor, I've come to understand many things about life, many things about death, and many things about chronically ill children.

It is astounding to me how many of my pre-conceived notions about the field of psychiatry were dispelled as soon as I walked into the first consult of the day. Mentally ill children, chronically ill children, developmentally delayed children all have one thing, if not many things, in common. They're children!

The innocence of a child doesn't leave him/her as the result of a psychiatric illness, medical trauma, or otherwise. Patients still asked us why things were happening, they were scared, they were frustrated, and they were confused.

Their smiles, their laughter, and their authentic emotion made me understand one thing: Life isn't something to ever take for granted. To always wonder why things are a certain way is a very healthy, proactive attitude. Honesty is your best policy always, but especially with children. Often, they're more perceptive than we give them credit for being.

In private dialogue with the doctor, I discussed with him what he thought about my abilities in psychiatry, as he saw me in case reviews, case conferences, patient-parent interactions, and socialization with other doctors. The one thing that has caused a smile to permanently grace my face is the fact that he said that he believed every single one of my demonstrated abilities were natural. The funny thing is, though, that doesn't matter. To avoid narcism, I'll say that if something we did as a team brightened the life of a child, even for just that moment, it was all worth it.

A face to face encounter with an actively dying patient isn't ever easy, but my first encounter happened with a teenager on this psychiatry service. I realized my love for life, my zest for people, and more importantly, my longing to make medicine a career for a lifetime, Death is a difficult concept for many people, and the experience was tough, but it was the most rewarding thing I've witnessed.

Though this post is pretty jumbled, there's one thing you should know. Kids are still kids, regardless of their labels. It's all too often that they are treated as soup cans. Second, you might be reading the ramblings of a future psychiatrist. Only time will tell!

Independence Day

July 4, 2010 is a day that will be forever etched into my brain. It's the day that I truly had a moment to reflect on what 'independence' means to me as an American citizen and as a sister who has a brother commissioning into the Navy in a few weeks. He'll be a "Navy doctor" when all is said and done, and I couldn't be more proud. The Navy will pay for the entirety of his medical education, and I know he's excited. Yet, as "Anchors Aweigh" proudly graced my ears during a church service yesterday, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. My brother, a soon-to-be first year medical student, is willing to make his medical education all about service to his country, and for that, I'm eternally grateful. As I stood with my hand over my heart, I fought back tears.

Since the rocky start that we had to him accepting my wanting to become a doctor, I've talked it out to him. He understands, he's completely on-board, and he teaches me every single day. You see, he spent a year in a Carribbean medical school, but due to some financial issues with the institution, he had to come home for a while and reapply in the United States. He's so excited, and I'm so excited for him. He'll be at a school about an hour and a half from me, so I'll take weekend trips to see him, to help him study, and to just enjoy our time. I love him. So, so much.

Further, I began thinking. Independence means that I, as a disabled American citizen, can become a doctor. And that is the greatest gift I can think of getting. No matter the challenge, Americans live in a country where there has been legislation adopted that protects them and that ensures equality. Though I, and the many others with disabilities will have difficulty that is unexpected or not able to be foreseen, it is incredible to me that there is such a freedom where, in essence, those difficulties don't matter. That is such a blessing and such a reward, and I'm so honored.

Later in the afternoon, we went to see the new version of the film Karate Kid starring Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan. Honestly, it was one of the deepest films I've seen in a long, long time. A scene that stuck out to me and that will most likely creep up in later writing took place after Jaden Smith sustained an injury to his knee during the semi-finals of the kung fu tournament. As he laid in pain on the stretcher, he asked Jackie Chan if he should return to the match, and Jackie Chan said that he didn't think his current condition would permit it. Jaden, the twelve year old that he is, reminded Chan of something he told Jaden a long time ago. He said, "When life knocks you down, you stand straight back up."

I couldn't help but think about that as being exactly the philosophy that medicine has instilled in me. Not necessarily for what it has done for me as a patient but what it has done for me as a future doctor is incredible. I have so, so much to be thankful for, including the patients I will serve, the insights they will give me, and the trust that is instilled in a doctor-patient relationship. See? It's not about me. It's about them.

May you all discover the beauty of independence and the gift of freedom!

Native Inspiration.

For whatever reason, via Twitter or Facebook, it's been difficult for me to find medical students/doctors/medical professionals from the state in which I reside, which is Georgia. It's quite sad, but I'm not surprised. We're behind in nearly everything, so why not be behind in technology and social media as well?

It might be hard for me to write this post without a few tears, so if the keyboard is slick and there are a few typos, please excuse me. Read on, and you'll figure out why.

I had just declared a pre-medical intent. It was the end of February or early March, and as doctors often do on Twitter, many of the doctors that I follow follow this doctor with the handle "doc_rob", so I clicked on his handle to find out more about him.

And then the moment occurs.

I read: Location: Georgia (Augusta).

I breathe, and I take a moment to contain my excitement.

I read again: Location: Georgia (Augusta).

Could it be? I found a Georgia doctor! I really did!

Immediately, I clicked to follow him, and I tweeted him a simple message, which was something to the effect of "Hi, I'm a pre-medical student from GA. Pleased to follow you!" We got to chatting about school and discovered that he is a short drive away from me.

The "awesome-this-world-is-so-small" connection is just the beginning. You see, Dr. Rob has taught me so many things, and I'd like to publically thank him while sharing his lessons with you.

Dr. Rob has taught me, rather indirectly, how to truly love medicine. Each time I read his blog posts, as humorous as they may be, I know. I know that he truly loves his job, his practice, and the life that "doctordom" has created for he, his wife, and their four children. I know that being a doctor doesn't require a lifestyle of seriousness in the sense that a doctor can't have other hobbies. Though his blog is healthcare oriented and one of the most educational blogs on the 'net to date, he has fun. What doctor would give me a Golden Llama Award and cause me to think it was a blogging Grammy or something like that? He has fun. That's most important.

Dr. Rob has also taught me even further to find joys in the simple things. It was a short time ago in which he wrote about why he loves being a doctor. Through the simple, underappreciated action of a hug, he showed his patient that he valued her as a person in addition to his patient. He cared for her as a person and as a patient. In that sense, he not only taught me because I'm a fellow human being. See people for all they are, all they bring, and all they have.

Finally, the last thing Dr. Rob has taught me (for now, anyway) is that anyone can do anything they work hard to achieve. I'm aware this sounds cliche, but it just means more than you know to have "homegrown" support. From tweets to blogs to podcasts, Dr. Rob teaches.

And he teaches from his heart. Thank you, Dr. Rob, for being the intelligent, hysterical doctor, mentor, social media fanatic that you are. I appreciate you more than you know!

Cheers to a Happy Me

Welcome! You may have come here from my previous blog titled Empowering People and Changing Lives, and I want to welcome you aboard this new journey with me. At first, I had thought that it would be appropriate to write a closing to the blog, but I just can't think of anything poignant or compelling to write about an ending journey. The truth of the matter is that I couldn't be more excited about my journey, and it's all about the cheers to a happy me.

I wanted to introduce you to the situations and the circumstances that make me who I am. I hope to have a more elegant looking design applied to the blog in the near future, but just in case you're new, found me through Twitter recently, or would like an update, here is my current status. And here are the things that will lead me to cheers for a happy me.

I'm a pre-medical student and community health major at a small liberal arts college in Georgia. Yes, I know, a pre-medical student out of a liberal arts college is a rarity, but after all, variety is the spice of life! My passions include writing, music therapy, social media, disability awareness and advocacy, and of course, medicine.

One question you may have, however, is that of the way my interest in medicine developed.

I can answer truthfully and honestly that my interest developed at a very, very young age. You see, I was diagnosed with a very mild case of cerebral palsy (spastic hemiplegia) at the fairly young age of fourteen months old. As a result of an intraventricular hemorrhage that ocured at the age of four days old, I also have what's called hydrocephalus. Which means, if you're a med student, doctor, or medical professional, you know this, but it means that I have a shunt. And thankfully I haven't needed a revision (tubing replacement) in nearly 10 years! My passion, my drive, and my love for medicine extends far beyond my side of the table as a patient. My love for medicine is about people, about life, and about protecting the sanctity that is life.

Admittedly, I'm no good at math and science. There is no natural ability, but I have worked excruciatingly hard for every skill I have attained. I did earn the letter grade of a 'C' in my core math class this semester, but I had been away from math for almost a year at the time I took the course, so it was my own fault. Earning A's in math all through high school, I know that it was the fact that my mind was just out of the patterning of the course. For fall semester, I am enrolled in pre-calculus. While it sounds daunting now, I am excited. I am excited to be able to challenge myself in such a way that I understand that this is a stepping stone to get me into medical school, into a field for which I have so much passion that it is absolutely immeasurable.

In a conversation with my dad this evening, he revealed that he didn't believe that medicine was the right field for me. He thought that I wasn't "stacking the deck" in my favor by choosing to pursue something which requires skills that don't come natural to me. I feel certain that when my first two clinical years of medical school are complete, I will understand that the hard work that I put forth during my undergraduate degree has been worth it.

My parents, thus far, have been, in no way, shape, or form supportive of my pursuit of a career in medicine. Thankfully, though, my medical school friends on Twittee have provided me with the resource and the encouragement that I need to succeed and to ensure that things go smoothly. Math and science has never been so important to me. I will never view math and science the same again. It is my pathway. It is my tool, and it is my necessity to get to where I need to be in my career, in my destiny, and in my calling. It will be difficult to pursue this task without parental support; however, I am responding to a calling, to a desire, and to a longing to give back, to nurture, to enjoy, to love, and to protect the patients that I serve as well as the attendings, the residents, and the medical students with whom I come in contact.

So, as we embark on this journey, in which we will take pleasure in being those who are "healthy, unwealthy, and becoming wise," I invite you to join with me in shouting three cheers to a happy us!