Playing under protest

There's a term in baseball called playing under protest. What happens is that a rule is incorrectly applied and the manager of a baseball team protests. If the officials do not side with him, then the team formally protests, but the game continues. They are playing under protest. And the League office will review the game afterwards, and provide an ultimate judgment.

My life has been one long game under protest. When I was younger, I had planned to kill myself. That was the plan. But instead, I was called, By God Himself. Most people wait lifetimes for such a calling. However, I was disappointed. I did not want to live any longer. I didn't want to continue on the path that I was going. Instead, I would push forward, sent on a mission that I didn't ask for.

If I had to play, then I would be a doctor. I was asked to care for the people of this world, and I would do that through medical science. That was my calling. I worked hard for it. I got my MD. And I am still playing this game of life, achieving all kinds of notable things, doing all kinds of good works. I have provided lifesaving care to the sick, I have held the hands of the dying, comforted those in sorrow, and fought against injustice and inequity in the medical system. I have used my office to care for these corporeal vessels, gifts to us from God, and I have done so without judgment, indignation, or evangelization. I have done good things for this world in my life.

But I didn't want to live, and so far, I have yet to find a reason to continue living. Oh, I'm not depressed, and I'm not going to kill myself now. But I find no value, meaning, or satisfaction in my life itself. I love my work. My work is valuable and meaningful, and I am exceptionally good at it, but it is the task that was demanded of me. So, I continue under protest, hoping that at the end of this, I might get an apology or at least an acknowledgment that my protest had merit.

Survivor's guilt

I had a day in clinic last week that hurt, emotionally. It was like my scheduling staff actually were trying to inflict psychological harm, because the morning was entirely booked with widows and widowers. I had 10 patients, all of whom were single and lonely, abandoned by their spouses who died.

Widowed patients are sometimes hard to see, but it's particularly bad when half those widows' spouses died under my watch. It's particularly painful to see the wife of Mr M, such a gregarious and lovable guy, a guy who had a massive coronary event and died at home, and now, his wife comes in like clockwork, every 6 months. Her medical problems have all gotten better, now that she is no longer subject to his bad habits of going out to restaurants all the time or indulging in sweets. She puts her faith in me that I am providing solid medical care, but really, her sample size to rate my performance is miserable. I killed the only other patient of mine she knows.

Mrs H is also so upsetting. She talks about her husband every time she comes in. He was a gentleman with such refinement and character, who never had a stern word. Even when he was angry, his words were like Socrates. She reminds me all the time that she has nothing to live for. She doesn't mean that in a bad way, and she's not even depressed, but that the efforts I put into extending her life, they are efforts she is ambivalent towards. If she died tomorrow, she would be fine with that, because the love of her life is dead.

One of my staff tells me that I should feel honored. Here are people that have been acutely exposed to my lack of ability to prevent the hand of fate. But they saw what I was able to do, and they want to continue with me. They are saying in each visit, "It's not your fault. That is life." I feel like really, they are silently consoling me. Because I mourn their losses too, because they are my losses also.