Today was long.
I woke up at 7:30 am to attend three and a half hours of intensive Hebrew language where our teacher drills us and drills us with verb conjugations and nouns. Its a steady barrage of “what the are you saying” and “will I ever really be able to have a conversation with someone in this bizarre language without sounding like a child.”
After a short lunch, I am warmly greeted by five hours of “this is how you treat the absolute worst case scenario that ever could possibly happen to a human being” and a repetitive series of mouth to mouth resuscitation with age old alcohol wiped plastic dolls.
When I think about the work that awaits me over the next four years of medical school, I begin to tremble.
I’m walking home from yet another ten-hour day and look up at a fiery bright orange sky remembering that momma said there’d be days like this. Days of stress and uncertainty. Days when I didn’t wake up on the right side of the bed or I’m just having trouble seeing the big picture.
So I think I’ll try today again.
I wake up to a cool morning. The light is shining gently on yet another peaceful Be’er Sheva dawn as the city churns and people leave for work. I sip green tea, eat fresh bread and look off my balcony at the doors of Soroka who readily await my arrival.
On my way in, I take a detour towards Coffee Time where the barista knows me and doesn’t need to ask my order. We smile and greet each other with a cheerful boker tov and I’m off with my warm coffee. That first cup of muddy black Turkish brew hits my lips and blesses me with the gift of God’s strength and energy.
I’m ready.
It’s now Ulpan time and Nava, our charismatic and oddly humorous teacher, gives us the tools to describe our world around us (both in the streets and behind hospital doors). I notice my language progress from the last few weeks and smile at the entirely wide and new array of people I can communicate with because of this tongue.
During lunch I talk with my classmates and we laugh over food and more coffee. Conversations vary and I’m thankful to rest my mind for an hour and change before going to the next series of lessons. As we walk to Emergency Medicine at around 1 o’clock, it’s hot, but my body thanks me for the warmth after being inside for so long.
We arrive. It’s time to start pumping adrenaline as information is hurdled at us and we’re encouraged to think on our toes.
“Head trauma? Infant Foreign Body Obstructions? Safety first!”
I arm myself with knowledge. What pleasure it is to feel readiness and confidence as I imagine jumping at the chance of aiding those in distress. Bring it on.
6:00 rolls around and I’m off school. I swing by the pool and lunge head first into the engulfing waters. The intensity of my workouts keeps me alive, pulling at the water and pushing the limits of my body slightly further every time. I sense the resistance against me as I glide through. Even better is the clear mind and feeling of euphoria after a full hour of intense swimming. It’s like meditation, concentrating so fiercely on my activity until the release, when tension is put to rest.
I’m walking home now against a fantastically beautiful Be’er Sheva sunset. I smell the plants. I touch things. I feel my feet steadily kiss the sidewalk as I walk home with a clear mind.
I reflect on my accomplishments from today and excite my nerves with tomorrow’s prospects. What new Hebrew words will I learn? What new restaurant should I try?
I think about this weekend. What will I do? Who will I see? What new place can I discover?
There are so many ways we can view our day to day lives in medical school. It can be a stressful rush of chores and appointments, or a beautiful array of sensation and life. It’s easy to lose sight of why we’re here.
My advice? Smell more plants, touch more things, talk to more people. When you find your balance starting to sway in the wrong direction, take notice and readjust. Bring everything back to the present time.
Don’t dissolve the day’s powder in a glass and drink. Instead, let her breathe. Smell the essence, taste the bitter and sweet, and live forever in the infinitesimal granules of every moment.
The late Israeli comedian Talia Shapira once said wisely:
.התחילה כבר החיים ,לב שמת לא אם
If you haven’t noticed, life has already begun. -Elon Richman, August blogger of the month
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