Closing Thoughts on Physicianhood (part 3)

Seeing as this series of reflections is due tomorrow, I thought I'd better wrap it up.

I know who I am at my core and want to paint a picture of how that could possibly play out in my role as a physician 10 years from now.

The wind blusters at my back as I reach out to unlock the door, spawning snow swirls and depositing a few more crystals into the drift at my feet that has built up overnight. Before wrenching the door open, I look over my shoulder to admire the fresh ski tracks the full moon is illuminating on the mountain face rising behind me. Another good weekend.

My office is cozy at this hour of the day, more resembling a private study than a place of business, but if an outsider were to peer in, they might think the coziness had won over, exiling me again to the lands of sleep. This is not the case. My thoughts fill with anticipation of the day to come and prayerful presentation of my concerns to my Lord. In a few minutes, I will be dashing about talking, testing, evaluating and diagnosing. But for a few minutes, I am still and quiet before my God, seeking His strength and wisdom for the day to come.

I know the answer to my first case before I even walk in the door. Ellen was one of the first people to welcome me here and despite her warm tone, already had concerns about her heart that she wanted addressed on my first day of business. Her heart is perfectly healthy, but she's convinced that no one can make it 91 years without heart trouble. I'll of course do a thorough exam and refill her hypertension meds in hopes of encountering nothing more than a little pleasant banter with a feisty old lady.

As lunch time rolls around, I look forward to seeing my wife and kids as I step back out into the cool Alaskan midday. Clearly a highlight of my day. My wife and oldest always have stories to share about their days at school and the little guy is just starting to form full sentences. The other teachers now know that I'm a regular in the lounge and always try to update me on the latest gossip, which leaves me feeling a little awkward, but accepted.

We talk about our plans for the evening and how we'd all like to get outside and do something, just not sure what. In the back of my mind, I'm making allowances for tomorrow when I'll, weather-permitting, take my Cub out to the closest village. It's been a while since I've checked on them and the PA should be able to handle anything urgent that comes through the doors at the office. I tune back in just in time to hear a lingering question about "Are we really all going to Africa this year?" from my daughter. I smile and say "Lord willing," which gets me a frustrated look. She doesn't quite grasp that our lives are not our own and wishes her parents were a little less kooky sometimes. I really think she is starting to grasp the freedom and joy that come from walking with God though. In small ways.

As I walk back toward the clinic, I lift my eyes up to the mountains and begin to sing a song of praise. Joy overflows, and I thank God for the life I have been given.