The term "cardiac", for those who may not have much interest in the medical field or have skipped the reruns of E.R. or Grey's Anatomy, means "related to the heart". The word stems back to Greek origin (καρδιά) or kardia, literally meaning "heart". I thought it appropriate to use this particular piece of medical jargon in my first blog post because that is what I hope will shine through most in this blogging endeavor: my heart.
Call it cliché or a commonplace platitude, I won't need much persuasion to agree with you, but clichés became stock phrases for a reason; they hold a truism. At the end of the day whether I'm agreed with or not is of little concern to me, it's whether my passion and fervor can be felt and respected that matters. This blog is about my experiences but also the endearment and devotion to which I feel while I go through them.
Medicine to me has always been somewhat akin to a religion. I vividly remember snooping through the pristinely clean drawers and cabinets in my doctor's office as a young girl. I admired their order and the abundance of hidden treasures that could be found in each neatly labels spot. It's no wonder years later I grew to develop a sound love for office supplies and find OCD people just under the brink of being medicated completely acceptable, even admirable. As a young girl looking into the glass cylindrical jar of tongue depressors or the boxes of surgical gloves, ready for the taking, mounted on the wall I remember being truly awed. Each little treasure had a purpose, and that purpose was to help someone, to make them feel better. Every instrument was used to solve a mystery. The end goal was always the same: to stop someone from hurting, to make them better, to heal them. I may not have understood the magnitude of what that meant as a five year old girl swiveling on her pediatricians stool, gazing around in wonder, but I knew I wanted to be a part of it; a part of the magic that was so clearly in medicine.
Fifteen years later, with a little more knowledge in hand but still much to learn, I'm embarking on that same path I set out to do as a five year old girl. I'm beginning a summer internship at a hospital I have admired since I was young. Having interned at hospitals before I have a small concept of what to expect but every case, every hospital, every day is deferent all with new challenges and obstacles. To some the idea of spending a summer in a hospital is absolutely dreadful, especially when the alternative could be sailing the ocean or visiting far off countries and discovering their gems. I don't deny that in some of the days ahead I will probably be asking myself why I didn't decide to do that instead. It will be the hope that, not unlike the jar of tongue depressors, I will be able to be a small part of solving someone's mystery, of making them better. To me, that hope is priceless. It's that desire that drives me forward and fills my heart with excitement for the days ahead.
So cheers to medicine, to hearts, and to the days ahead. Let the adventures begin.
