The Disillusionment Of Sacrifice

Working hard is sanctified.

The inability to slow down, the understaffing, and the constant salvo of near-death experiences (moral or otherwise) force doctors into complete working frenzies that can only subside with conscious effort. Since most of us can’t stop the flailing, we romanticise it, as people higher up the hierarchy from hell applaud us. They can only commend this flavour of career.

We all know the statistics. Burnout, suicide rates, broken families. The salt and pepper of an averagely-lived doctor’s life, but less of a reason to applaud. So we applaud what is less socially taboo. Any young doctor going down the same path normalizes the wrong decisions made in the past by the people who came before.

And to the tune of this off-beat encouragement, we dance the same dance that leaves us all bloodied.

The same failed ghosts of poor past priorities hunt us just as they hunt their owners.

Whenever something is missing from our lives, we fill it with the cadence of a thrashing fish. We must conform and accommodate the chaotic ship that cares very little for the cog. The illusion of steering distracts us from the sinking.

We’ve all but banned the word ”and” from ever snuggling between ”work” and ”life”, and we’ve completely banished any balance.

We shouldn’t aim to impress and caress egos. Surviving, thriving, and driving into the ground is the natural progression of that game. Play a different game.

Not doing too much should not feel like doing too little. Our only loyalty is to the people we swore to help and protect.