Finish Line

I am no longer an intern.

I have been chanting, screaming, and singing these words ever since I left the hospital today. I called my mom to tell her. I shouted it as I walked through the door at home.

And then I did a happy dance.

I AM NO LONGER AN INTERN!!!!!

The first year of residency is done. Who would have imagined, one year ago, I would have actually made it to this point? Especially since last year, I thought I would die from nervousness.

I'm still undecided as to whether this has been the shortest year of my life or the longest. Maybe both.

It's been a difficult year, as I shared here, and here, and here, and here, and...okay, I think that's enough sharing of the front lines of burnout and despair.

But I've also learned so much. Some of them very practical, such as treatment of new atrial fibrillation and management of hyponatremia. Some of them more personal. It's been a year of carrying most of the load and being at the bottom of the food chain. It's been a year of tears and of complete indifference. It's been a year of many downs and the occasional up.

Whatever it has been, it almost doesn't matter. Because it's over. I start in the operating room tomorrow. Back to what I (hopefully) love to do.

I would like to think that the last year has provided me with a confidence boost. But since I'm as nervous about tomorrow, the official start of my anesthesia training, as I was to begin residency, that may not be the case.

I'm ready to close this chapter of my life and move on to writing the next. I hope to only look back with a small attitude of disdain and a huge sense of relief.