Estoy enojada con la muerte.

 My efforts to follow through with shaking off the heavy chip on my shoulder, as mentioned in my last post, have not played out as planned. In fact, the entire train they were on completely derailed and is now a crumbled pile of bent and smoldering aluminum, the efforts once on board now vapor rising above the demolished heap. 

I must, start again. Start at the beginning and try again. 

COVID hit our team again, on a personal level this time. 

The two residents that had (for whatever their reasons were) decided not to get the vaccine, both got sick with COVID and were out on quarantine. Unfortunately, one of those residents, had been on the transplant team when he became symptomatic. So out of an abundance of caution to the transplant patients, half of the whole team, even those asymptomatic, were mandated quarantine. The extra work load was felt on the rest of the program.

Then, after a long fight with COVID, one of our trauma PAs lost the battle to COVID. Tony was the PA that I went with to his island of Anguilla last year and participated in their Medical Fair. Tony's death was felt near and wide, nurses, PTs, current and past residents were posting on social media their sadness at his death. Tony made everyone feel appreciated.... because he told you so. "I appreciate you man! I appreciate you!" He'd never hesitate to give you what he had. "Christy you want some coffee? Let me give you some of my coffee. Where's a cup? Let's find a cup! Let me give you some of my coffee!" Rest in Peace Tony!

It gets increasingly difficult to remain positive. To refrain from saying I hate COVID.

Then in the midst of that, and trying to gear up to take my last ever ABSITE. Received the sudden and unexpected news that my uncle had died. 

The events of this past week are, quite frankly, not safe for public space. Perhaps, I'll write them down for myself and post in a delayed fashion. Or perhaps, I won't. If I did... chances are the stories wouldn't be believed anyways. My team was actually a great comfort. Only few times previously had that strong bond you form when fighting shoulder to shoulder in the trenches was felt as strongly as it was this past week.  In short, schedules were able to be moved, and a few of the ABSITE exams, and in the end, I had q2 call, took the ABSITE post call, then flew home for my uncle's small graveside service. The morning after my second call, rounding quick with my team to get them set for the day before I ran over to take my test, emotions were very high. I noticed a look of half-bewilderment and half-terror on the face of our medical student. Trying to take a step back to reassure her, she responded, "oh don't worry, I only understand maybe half of what's going on anyways." Which I interpreted, that her facial expression was merely a reflection of what she had been seeing exhibited by us.

A bit of a train wreck the second half of January was. But as I said, I must start again. Start at the beginning and try again. Goal: to walk out of this residency program chipless. 

Much Love and Prayers.