Estoy enojada.

First four weeks of 4th year finishing up, and I'm trying to put together my team's rounding schedule for the next block. I'll be moving over as trauma chief beginning of next week. After many last minute changes, I'll once again have a team made up of rotating residents from other programs. I'm wondering if I should take it personally... nah. We are moved around between services on whims like pawns, only here to serve. No extra thought is paid to who the actual individual is, we're just a body. Someone to do the work.
I know I sound bitter, even to myself. As the residency years keep evolving, I've found myself struggling with more and more anger. I look at these interns, and remember how it was five years ago. I was just as lost if not moreso than they are. It's rather profound the change I can feel in myself. I didn't do it on purpose. Like continuous unrelenting pressure over time forces coal into a diamond. Not that I'm a diamond, but the continuous unrelenting pressure... that I feel, and the change associated with it. Anger is the byproduct.
This is playing highlighted on my mind this weekend, knowing that our trauma rotation is notoriously frustrating for a plethora of reasons. I'm worried how I'll manage the increased anger. Extra prayers, I guess. Extra prayers.

Social interaction away from the hospital helps as well! We had our first W.O.W. event of the year.

Dinner at 3 Westerly L to R: Dr. Rajdeo, Carly (med student), Alex (intern), Dr. Bhuta, Clara (intern), Alex, me, Monica, Clara, Sara (intern) 

Conquered the Surgery escape room!

Much Love!