even the sour spots

a blog from a friday — the joyful MD

For those of you who have been following me for a while, thank you again for the support of my launch yesterday. For those of you who are here for the first or second time, welcome! I'm so glad you're here. Thank YOU for the support.

When I was choosing a name for my blog, I kept coming back to the intention behind the site. To spread joy, to spread kindness, to spread inspiration. In my grand plans, every post was going to be happy and go lucky, but I'm starting to realize that's rarely how vulnerability works. 

This morning, I was going to write a whole blog post about this salad. I ate it every day in the summer sunshine, and I know this sounds ridiculous, but I really had a plan for making the caption meaningful. Somehow, it was all going to come back to spreading the joy that this lunch brought to my summer almost every day.

And then, I saw something that broke my heart. Sitting on our porch that overlooks a main artery into town, I heard a yell.  PLEASE HOLD THAT BUS! She was running and had 4 bags strapped about her body, the weight of them pulling her speed down. Her partner was behind her, struggling to keep up, his arms waving to signal the bus driver passing them that they intended to board. With zero malicious intent in my assumptions, both appeared to be hispanic and experiencing homelessness. I felt connected to them as they were running like hell to catch the bus, something I do often in my commute. I was overwhelmed with joy to see the bus slow at the stop, and wait a minute for them to approach. 

I was overwhelmed with grief to see the bus take off without them, just as they caught up. Devastated and angry, they collapsed on the bench, and watched the bus halt at a red light 40 feet away.  

"THAT WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED TO ME IF I WAS RUNNING FOR THAT BUS. THAT WAS NOT FAIR. WHAT THE #$%*?!", i screamed at my boyfriend and burst into tears.

maybe he didn't see them? nope. 

maybe he's late? nope. 

maybe he would have left me too? nope.

maybe there's a bus right behind that one. wait, what? 

No logic that my brain used to comfort my soul worked to sooth the pain of the act of social injustice I had just witnessed. I felt helpless, angry, and confused. Why did that happen? Why do I feel so responsible? Why do I feel like there's nothing I can do to change this situation?

It is in these moments that I am most grateful for my partner Matt. When I wander emotionally astray, his grounded energy leads me back from darkness. Crying on our couch, he reminded me that my feelings are WHY I DO WHAT I DO. Empathy. It's why I love medicine.

It's why a lot of us picked medicine. To treat the most vulnerable among us with kindness. To serve the underserved. To show compassion. To feel all the weight of the world on someone's back, and be able to help. THAT is why we study. THAT is why we sacrifice. To do our part to fight the social injustices of the world, helping others on the worst days of their lives.

Missing that bus might have really messed with their plans for the day and what happened to them was not fair. But I have to encourage myself that they'll probably be alright. While I wish it hadn't happened, I don't wish I hadn't seen it.

The peach in my salad today was almost perfect, despite a bruise that left a slightly sour taste in my mouth. And I guess, when I think about it, there's something really joyful in that too. There's something really beautiful about tasting life's peach and feeling it ALL. Even the sour spots.