After four years, I'm reuniting with my old self in Manhattan. We picked up just where we left off. The girl who I was four years ago still lingers around the city, gazing at ads on the subway, recording the scent of roasted peanuts into a notebook, and striking up conversations with people in crowded restaurants.
My rotation is at an amazing hospital that prides itself on caring for the under served. The commute--a drafty subway ride and 1 mile walk---takes me a couple of hours. Morning rounds are conducted with physicians, nurses, and social workers. The patients require around the clock monitoring. I've spent a lot of time observing the value in reading a patient's chart again and again, speaking to their family members on a daily basis, and trusting a nurse's intuition. There are narrative medicine conferences every week, where health care professionals discuss patient care through story telling.
Every once in a while, when I'm on my way home, I look up. The city resembles a giant game of Tetris, all corners and winks of light. Samir and I have a tiny corner of Manhattan, where the view makes us feel charmingly insignificant.
Our windowsill has our record guestbook from the engagement party and many books.
“And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald