Came home from work late today…again.
I’m passionate about my job as a psychiatrist and spent about two hours with each patient that I was called to consult on the medical floor this weekend. Lunch and dinner were an afterthought. I felt the hunger pangs, but pushed on because the appreciation received from each patient for taking time to understand their situation made hypoglycemia worthwhile.
Today, I spent several hours on a complicated case. Coordination of care took place, notes thoroughly written, and necessary calls made. I left the clinic with a goal to leave work behind. However, the patient is still on my mind. Accepting that I can’t save a patient is one of the most difficult aspects of my job. No words of appreciation expected, no reassurance of their safety, no guarantee of tomorrow.
I can’t cure, I can’t heal, I can’t save, but it would be out of my character not to at least try.