Happiness

 I am responsible for my own happiness.

Simple and straightforward. The last 3 weeks have been a rollercoaster. B died on 11/19/2020. I found out 2 days later when I was in my office at work after I finished rounding in the ICU. I didn't hold my tears back because it happened. The worse happened. B died after a long battle with cancer. This time around, when I lost a loved one, I let myself grieve. I cried when I needed to. And let myself breathe. I spent Thanksgiving alone because that's what I needed.

I am grateful that B allowed me to be part of his going funeral services; it was touching ceremony. I cried throughout. I know he's in a better place. He's not hurting or in pain anymore.

The weeks following his passing have been hard. Therapy has been challenging as I try to navigate what it means for me as a woman and as a leader. I also got some bad news in re: my health and have decided to move forward and take care of health physically too.

Yesterday, I had an epiphany which occurred because I was open to receive the message: I am responsible for my own happiness. Now, things have not magically gone from ok to perfect. I am navigating through what that means for me, what my boundaries are, and how I move forward with that knowledge. This revelation certainly made my extra long day at work less bothersome and less tiresome in some ways. I didn't get home until past 9pm but it was all good. 

The few weeks remaining in 2020 will be interesting. I am working on taking care of me going forward. Like taking the time out to focus on what my needs are, what the setbacks are, issues that I've been dealing with and how to rectify and leave the past behind. Learn the lessons and let. it. go.

I am indeed responsible for my own happiness. Moving forward with healing.

Facing death

 I was asked to send some thoughts and sentiments for a friend who will be dying soon from cancer.

How strange. He is alive now. Can I not wait until...he's gone?

I've struggled to send anything. The thought alone of sending my sentiments about B and our friendship is morbid. I have not reconciled with the fact that he will die in the near future. I spent the last 2 hours holding back my tears. Every time I think about him and the fight he fought with cancer the last 8 years, my heart breaks again. Nothing makes it any easier. Not this shitty ass piece of shit year. Not knowing that this day would eventually come. 

I don't have the right words to say. To face death (and for me it's through a friend) in this way is strange. I've held many discussions with patients' family members about death and dying and making patients comfort care in cases where further medical treatment is futile. But this? This is cruel.

I lost a few friends during this year from cancer. A sweet, young, vibrant nurse. Died within weeks after being diagnose with stage IV ovarian cancer. She was only 25. An excellent surgeon, teacher, husband and father. Died within 2 years after being diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. He was hitting the peak of his career. A former high school teacher's wife (my brother's teacher). Died of brain cancer after being diagnosed a month prior. She recently turned 45. And now B. He's only 42. Fun, funny, sarcastic, good heart and awkward.

We were an odd pair. I met B via a classmate of mine. We had a fun night of exploring DC. B and I remained friends. Then I didn't match to residency. B somehow saw strength in me that I couldn't muster. I helped him study; he helped me pay for some of my flights to my residency interviews. B has a good heart, always had. We kept in touch over the years via text (he hates texting), emails and phone calls. When I found out about his cancer becoming stage IV, I was devastated. Seems like he did everything right. But here we are.

B is probably taking this better than the rest of us are. I'm definitely not taking it well. Eventually, I'll have to say goodbye. Eventually, things will end, and he will be laid to rest. Eventually...he won't be a phone call or text away...eventually, the goodbye will be final.

We all will face death at some point.

All I'm saying now is F--k you 2020. And death. And cancer.

I'm not ready to let B go.

Revisiting the broken pieces

 I have a friend of mine who's birthday I couldn't remember. So I texted her today asking her when it was. I remember that she had a July birthday but did not specifically remember the day. This friend, C, has been in my life since the majority of college. She was a class above me but I always looked up to her. In our catching up, I mentioned recently starting therapy. 

Then she brought up a situation that I have tried to forget/make peace with for the last 10 years. She mentioned that I should've seen a therapist after everything ended with M.

M was someone I met at a medical summer program back in 2006. Honestly, when I first met him I didn't think much just because I was in a program where I was trying to make as many connections as I could for medical school. And he was just a pretty boy. Someone when I first met him I knew he was completely out of my league: smart, physically attractive, Ivy-league trained and definitely with a girlfriend. Long story short, he approached me and we talked. Then we became friends. Over the course of that friendship, which lasted about 5 years, I fell in love with him. Mistake number one. Then everything ended. Very abruptly. At the time I was so shocked, so devastated (I had never experienced such a brokenness before), and so numb that I literally shut down completely for about 6 months. I remember that time being so separated from who I was, I just repressed everything and pretended like I was OK. Over the years following that, I stopped writing. I stop caring. I lost sight of who I was. All the insecurities I had before I met him magnified. I told myself to never love anyone like I loved him. So in a place where this young, thriving, passionate, kind, sweet, compassionate and loving girl existed, she was replaced by someone so broken that the only way to survive was to shut down.

My friend said "That experience robbed you of your joy, your light, and your confidence. It's like it almost bankrupted you of all your essence. Notice I said almost...For it was like you stopped trusting you."

And how true was she. I did stop trusting myself. I stopped listening to my inner voice or my intuition. I stopped believing in the unanswered prayers of my heart. I stopped finding the magic in the simplest things in life. I caged myself in, in hopes that I would protect myself. But instead I created by someone who was separated from everything she needed to heal. It was bad timing; between medical school and initially not matching for residency, I could not find the time to heal. So I've repressed everything for the last 10 years In addition to all the trauma I had from my childhood.

The last few days as well as my session with my therapist, I'm being told by different sources including the universe to get back in touch with me. To allow myself to feel in order to heal. And to do that I will have to surrender and I will have to be vulnerable. Two things that I don't like doing, at least not in the wrong setting.

But what does surrendering look like? What does being vulnerable look like? As I start on this journey, I'll have to most importantly give myself love and grace to get through each broken piece. Every single dark and ugly moment. I will have to take responsibility for my part in it. This is the best chance I have to heal. When I allow myself to grieve, to remember, to forgive, to be open again, and to love, with healthy boundaries. 

I am still grieving not passing boards. So. That is one thing. And to that, my friend said one last thing: "As unfortunate as the setback is, I believe that it just saved your life. Your dreams and all that you deserve will manifest itself when you heal. I wholeheartedly believe that. When you shed that layer of despair, nothing will be able to shield your inner light. But remember to give yourself grace while you're going through the process because you're going to get beat up but you'll be the better for it. Don't rush the process because a watched pot never boils."

Such wise words. I'd like to think that at the other side of all of this, I won't be a woman made up of broken pieces. I believe I will be complete, with every part of me healed and restored.

Growing means...

I feel like this is March 2013 all over again...when I did not match. The blow of not matching knocked me out even though I had a pretty strong suspicion that I wouldn't match. It didn't make the pain hurt less.

Fast forward to the year 2020,  I did not pass my oral boards. I had a sneaking suspicion I wouldn't. It wasn't overwhelming but it was there. I've been so exhausted from this year alone that I just accepted it, right then and there. I vacillate between being incredibly sad versus numbness. This year has stretched me in ways I haven't wanted to be stretched. Last week I ended a relationship because 1) I was starting to have real feelings for the guy and 2) because I knew in the end...he would not be the person I need in a relationship. And no matter how many times, I run the scenario in my head...he remains exactly who he said he was. So that ended. Really mature for me to do but still painful nonetheless.

I am exhausted. Of thinking. Of being this resilient person. I'm tired of having to take of care things all the time. I'm tired of being. I'm just tired. Of not being wanted. Of not being enough. Ever.

I am trying to give myself time to grieve. I have moments at work where the feelings overwhelm me and I have to take a moment to let them out. I pretend like I am ok...when I'm not.

There is this Christian fitness instructor I met through a friend on FB...who is now going through a divorce. It is as of now the most difficult thing she's ever had to go through. In her FB post, she said something that stuck out to me. She said, "God doesn't make bad things happen TO us. Sometimes they happen FOR us." I don't believe a God who loves me would make leave me to carry this burden alone. But sometimes, it feels as if I am. The tears well up in my eyes and my heart is soft and sad. My oral boards is the last part of me needing to become a board certified surgeon...and here I am. Working as a surgeon but lacking in certification...Yes this failure has in fact confirmed *to me* that I am not good enough. My imposter syndrome is alive. 

I am trying to do better for me. So that I can be my best for others. I start therapy next week. So that's a step forward. But being the mature/strong person is tiring. I am tired.

Being vulnerable is a sign of strength

Being vulnerable is a sign of strength

Let me preface this by saying that the last 2.5 years, my mother has had a decline (mainly respiratory) in her health. She's had this chronic cough that when it gets bad, she sounds like she is drowning and can barely talk because of it. We were finally able to get her a green card and for the last 6 months, she has stayed in south Florida with my brothers. But they're men and many things get overlooked. Regardless, fast forward to now. I've been worried about her overall health and was trying to figure out how to get her health insurance so she could be followed regularly for her medical problems (mainly her poorly controlled hypertension). Oh life. Covid-19 happened. The world shut down. Work became more stressful.


My older brother than texted me as soon as I got off of work with "Mom's left hand is numb". I immediately called him and asked for more details. I'm pretty sure that's not what he meant because--between what my mom was describing to him and what he told me--I'm sure it wasn't just that. Turns out, her left hand (and likely arm) was weak; she couldn't grasp anything or hold her hand up. I told him that she is likely having a stroke and that she needed to go to the ER. I asked him to take her blood pressure to see what it was. It was 189/119. What. The. F**k. I calmly tell my brother to take her to the hospital to which he agrees and we hang up. I tell my closest friends to keep my mom in their prayers and go home worried because one of my fears was morphing into reality: having my mom hospitalized during this pandemic. It was bad enough that she spoke little English and then to not have any family members with her was even more difficult to imagine.


I get home. I shower. I try to eat dinner. I pray. Bargain with God. Pleading for this to not be real and that if God would let her live (yes, I went down the tunnel of worse case scenarios), I would produce a child within the next few years for my mom (she wants to be a grandmother again). About 2 hours later, I text my brother to see how things are because I know the ER will take forever. I get "We didn't take her to the hospital". I was livid and quite frankly so angry that I did not call and speak to him because I'd start yelling. Long story short I told him mom is having a stroke and if she dies, it's on him. He tells me the plan is to take her to a clinic in the morning to which I replied it's stupid. Her recheck BP was lower but still high and I told him to make sure she takes her BP meds. I call my mom and make sure she's ok. She downplays her symptoms like I know she would. I tell her I love her and then end the call. I go to sleep because I could not do anything else short of calling 911 and that would make things more stressful. I commiserate with my medical friends and family members and pray that God keeps her and try to go to sleep.


That night, I had nightmares and slept poorly. I went to work but more annoyed and stressed on top of everything else. I call my mom to make sure that the plan was to still go to the clinic. She was in good spirits and stated that she was about to go wake up my brother so they can go to the clinic. Rounds in the hospital go smoothly. Inside I'm freaking out but on the exterior, I'm cool as a cucumber. I wait until close to 11am to check in again.


"Good morning. Any updates"


"She has been admitted..."


Ok. So it's happening.  My mom is admitted and I was right. She had a stroke. There. The worse happened. I immediately called my brother and he told me that he took her to the ER and didn't bother taking her to the hospital. I had a mini-breakdown because my mom is in the hospital and there's nothing I can do to comfort her or be there. My mind was racing at 200mi/hr but my heart was stuck on "admitted to the hospital".


God has a funny way of working things out. Not funny but...expertly planned. As I was outside the building silently crying, I hear my name called out. I turn around to see one of my woman attendings who happened to not be at work with her dog in her car. We chat briefly and she notices my eyes. I tell her my mom's admitted to the hospital with a stroke. She asks what I need. I said I need to go see my mom. She says "grab your stuff; I can buy your tickets." I tell my ICU attending (who happened to be my PD) the situation and tell my co-workers "family emergency--I gotta go". We rush to my apartment, my attending buys my plane tickets AND books a rental car. Amazing. There are good people out there, people. I say this because--she didn't have to do any of it but she did. God looked out for me...through her and I'm forever grateful.


I won't bore you with the details but I flew in to S Florida late that night and spent the next few days making sure mom is ok, that my brothers understood what happened and what needs to be done once she is discharged home. All of her medical needs that needed to be addressed were addressed. Her CT scan (head) did not show a big stroke and the brain MRI revealed several small areas of stroke. She sounded better and better every day. She never required an ICU stay. Never intubated. Tested negative for COVID-19. Blood pressure controlled on oral medications. We were even able to apply for medical insurance for her.


I knew I wouldn't have been able to see her while she was admitted but I went to Florida anyway. In times like these, it was important to be around family. I was able to see some of my brothers and cousin. We talked, commiserated and loved on each other (I still wanted to strangle my older brothers though). I even got to see my cousins--it's been so long so we laughed so much.

In the end, she was discharged home after I left Florida. She had another stint in the hospital for pneumonia but she recovered then too. I was able to see my mom August 2020 and it was so nice. We disagreed on many things but it was good to see her happy and healthy.

Taking a pause from it all

It's been a while...and I remember saying that it would be days instead of waiting years again. But life got in the way again. So I'm trying again.


Update: I've now completed residency (WHOOHOOOO!!) and am now in my surgical critical care fellowship in Texas. So far so good. I have a few (literally a few) job offers so far. Haven't really looked yet.


I've started incorporating meditation, ancestral worship and reflection in my spiritual journey. I have stopped going to traditional church since fall/winter of 2017. I have struggled as a Haitian woman (Afro-Caribbean American woman) in America to be part of the "Church" as it's represented in America. I haven't put much effort into finding a new church.


I haven't been writing much as a result of just life becoming to busy with "busy work". But I do love my new place--it's forcing me to be more social--somewhat.


And for the most important update: I am thriving. I am single but dating. It's a little challenging because I am still working long hours but I am making time.