Humbled.

It was a few days ago that I decided- that if I didn’t take the time to address this issue, it would not be long before I went downhill. I realize, how easy it is for one in this profession to be carried away.

After all, everyone is placing you on a pedestal, clothing you with their notions of nobility and sacrifical love and compassion, insisting that they call you “Doctor” and (gasp), not by your first name…

In a world such as this, it is easy for one to be carried away, and to believe the same lie the world believes- that it was one’s intelligence, hard work and striving alone that got one where one is today.

Lately, as I felt the swells of pride balloon up transiently within my flesh with increasing frequency, I knew something was wrong. I knew, that it had to be stopped soon before this insidious thing took root in my life.

Pride. It comes before a fall. And I prayed for mercy, that I would learn humility before having to learn it the hard way.

My thirty-hour calls from 7am till about 1-2pm the following day with hardly any or no sleep in between have been most humbling, to say the least. On a normal day, I am cheerful, fulfilled, and take great joy and pride even, in remembering the names of nurses and patients and other healthcare staff- I want to make a difference by letting another person know that I don’t treat them like a functional unit, a tiny gear in a factory that makes the system run- but more, a real person, a human being with thoughts and emotions and a name whose life and personality is important and precious.

But on call, when it’s late into the night when I’m exhausted and have nurses calling me non-stop, I realize, I’m not nice anymore. I was, on my first call- at least I tried to be. But on my third call, when patients flooded in in the middle of the night and I learnt the hard way, that some nurses are helpful in calling you for real emergencies, while others have a frustratingly low threshold for calling a doctor without having a realistic understanding of how inundated one can be on-call (what with patients waiting back-to-back to be seen and being flooded by needs and demands- Doctor can you please COME NOW, patient is in GREAT PAIN. Doctor, patient’s blood sugar is too high, can you please COME NOW. Doctor, patient is having high fever, can you please COME NOW.)

COME NOW. COME NOW. COME NOW.

No, I cannot “COME NOW”. There is a patient here with a more urgent need for me to see to.

Every minute, every moment, one’s brain is fighting hunger, fatigue and stress to sift out the more important from the less, to filter the true emergencies from the false, to figure out what the story on the other line is about… while trying to set an intravenous line, talk to and examine a patient, or solve an emergency there and then. One’s patience can run short when one straddles to pick up the phone while dealing with an urgent matter, trying to decipher a nurse’s voice over the tenuous phoneline when the interminably long story ends with no conclusion and has no importance whatsover- “Yea, just to update you Doctor.”

At times like these, one can feel like pulling one’s hair out.

On a normal day, it is easy to forget one’s humanity. After all, one is looked up to by nurses, allied healthcare workers, patients and members of the public. One’s stethoscope around one’s neck immediately elicits the respect of visitors and demands the red carpet treatment of having people hold lifts for you because you look like you are rushing somewhere, which very often is the case.

And all it takes, is for one thirty-hour call where I can’t get an intravenous line into a patient’s vein in spite of a few tries, or a stern telling-off to a nurse who is calling for a poor reason in the midst of many other more important and urgent life issues, to make one realize that… one is human. I am human- I get tired, frustrated, discouraged and overwhelmed by the sheer load of patients after working 24hours non-stop and having another 6 more hours to go.

It is truly humbling.

I won’t ever forget that night- “Uh huh, so what do you need from me?” I asked curtly. “What? I can’t hear you, speak up.” The voice of the nurse over the phone was breaking up due to poor reception, I was halfway through examining a patient, the phone just wouldn’t stop ringing and I was at the end of myself, what with yet another phonecall for a non-urgent matter to settle… I was losing steam and patience.

Then suddenly, “Doctor, do you have to be so rude!” Then the line got cut off.

Did I have to be so rude. I will never forget that moment.

It was truly, truly humbling. And I only pray, that every call will teach me something about my insufficiency, so I can always be humble in remembering that only God’s brand of strength and love is enough for my every day.

Did I have to be so rude.

No I didn’t. And it reminded me, once again, that for all my knowledge and supposed “stature”, I can be humbled in knowing that I am human, with feet of clay, and only God’s grace is enough for me to remain compassionate, loving and patient through the day, night and a 30-hour call.

Call after call after call.