Served

I became a doctor because I was medically underserved and wanted to be the change I wished to see in the world.

How young and naive

It seemed like a good idea at the time

I didn’t know what I was getting into, yet I took the plunge and signed up for years of poverty, anxiety, depression, and exhaustion. My childhood was excellent training for medical school and residency.

Because I was born addicted to stress, the transition was fairly smooth. Medicine proved to be a mediocre distraction from myself.

Now in my 16th year of formal education after high-school, it has been a long, hard road but my bootstraps haven’t broken yet.

With open veins, I invited all patients in need to partake.

Bring me your poor, your tired, your sick, your underserved, I called.

It would have been more appropriate for me to say:

Bring me your disability scammers, your self-serving, your manipulative, your misserved by a system that rewards dependence on the system itself- those who take no responsibility for their lives while demanding a life-long free ride.

To go into the field of medicine with good intentions, then receive lawsuits from the very same people who I was trying to help out of kindness and generosity makes me want to walk away from it all without looking back- I’m not in this for my own health.

I look for breadcrumbs, smoke signals, signs of hope that there may be protection against abuse of physicians and taxpayers. We feel the crack of the whip with every eroded paycheck.

Seeing the dependence of my ‘underserved’ patients on the system, I realize that being truly medically underserved was the best thing that ever happened to my health. Having no other option but to heal myself required that I be resilient and self-sufficient. Though I feel the crush of the medical un-system I work within, I will continue a life of service as I become ever more empowered by self-awareness. Though I put myself last and subsist on the leftover scraps of my time, I am my most important patient.

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