Being a doctor is hard.
Becoming a doctor is hard.
The hours are tough.
The days are tiring,
and the nights are tiring.
Missed holidays with family are difficult.
The exhaustion is palpable.
The insecurity in your ability is real.
The sadness about sick patients is human.
It seems obvious that it might become overwhelming.
What happens when you are faced with this?
Reach out.
Reach out to anyone and everyone.
Years ago, as an intern in pediatrics, the hours, fatigue, and on-call coverage were all starting to take their toll.
I felt I couldn’t do it.
Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this career.
Maybe I wasn’t smart enough.
Maybe I wasn’t strong enough.
Maybe I was the only one who just wouldn’t make it.
Self-doubt was powerful.
Struggling, I reached out to my parents.
My father came to visit.
With him came a ceramic tree.
A tree, small and simple.
Its branches lit up.
Its light was a reminder:
a reminder of love,
a reminder of support,
a reminder that even in the darkest of times there can be brightness.
Somehow, maybe things could glow again.
My father stayed with me.
Whenever I had free time, he was there.
We took walks.
We shared meals.
We spoke of life.
We spoke of joy.
He said he always believed in me,
that he would be proud, whatever journey I chose.
His words meant the world to me.
Each day, the clouds lifted a little.
He stayed until the impossible seemed possible again.
I think of that time often.
My father is long gone,
but the twinkle of the tree remains in me.
It reminds me that I am never alone.
It reminds me that moments of hope can last forever.
If you face difficult times,
which we all will,
find someone:
a friend, a family member, a neighbor, a coworker.
Don’t keep silent.
I believe there will be open arms waiting,
and maybe they’ll be holding a ceramic tree that will help you see the light again.
Loretta Cody is a pediatrician.
