Because Some Days Are Hard

By Jenni Murray

I am a total Pollyanna. Give me a problem and I will find you the silver lining. Anyone who has been on this medical journey knows that it can be tough to remain an optimist, but I have always maintained the “at least” approach. At least it’s just one night on call and he’s not away in a warzone. At least he’s safe at the hospital and not out patrolling dangerous neighborhoods. Some days were even more of a stretch, but I could improvise: at least he’s alive and we see him occasionally.

Even this Pollyanna can have a moment. I have had several throughout this journey, but the most memorable happened at my four-year-old son’s Thanksgiving banquet at preschool. My husband is a third year family medicine resident, and he said there was a chance he would finish up his morning clinic in time to make it by the school. I have no idea why, but I just believed he would make it.

He has really become efficient in these three years of residency, so I made my covered dish, put on a little makeup and real clothes, loaded up the baby, and headed for our first family Thanksgiving program at the school! Wow! Things really were getting better! Of course, minutes before I walked in the school, my husband texted me saying his last patient was really complicated, was going to take a good bit of time, and he wouldn’t make it to school.

It stung a bit, but I kept a smile on my face and went about our day. I have no idea what happened to me, but when I walked into the room to see that all of the children were seated together at little tables and all of the adults were seated with their spouses and family at separate adult-sized tables, tears began to flow and I had to make a pit stop by the bathrooms and pull myself together. I was the only one there alone and the three years of doing it on my own seemed to hit me in one instant. I got through the program, but when I got home, I put the baby down for a nap and I sobbed. I sobbed because I was tired. I sobbed because I was lonely. And I sobbed because, darn it, some days are hard. Really, really hard.

I have learned that it’s ok. Even Pollyanna’s can admit that this journey is difficult and that some days the silver lining is tough to find. So, if you are new to this and learning the excruciating truth that watching someone you love suffer is far worse than enduring suffering yourself, it’s ok to wave your white flag some days. Or if you’ve been at this a while and feel like you should have learned to deal with the disappointments by now, it’s ok for you to admit defeat occasionally.

We cannot wallow in it for too long or we might get stuck in self-pity, but we can take a day every now and then and just admit that some days are really hard.

Here’s the eternal truth of those who walk side by side with our physicians. You know, the ones that keep normal life going on and still muster up some energy to be a listening ear and an encouraging word for the physicians that we love. The ones that work full-time jobs, maintain the house, and manage the family calendar like a well-oiled machine. You know… us.

We can do hard things. Really, really hard things.

Jenni Murray was born in South Carolina and grew up in Maryland and Mississippi. She now lives on the east coast of Florida with her husband, a third-year Family Medicine resident and soon-to-be Sports Medicine fellow, and their two wild, crazy, wonderful boys. Jenni has a Master’s degree in Social Work that she uses regularly on unsuspecting friends and family.