This particular blogpost is one full of whimsical depth. I suppose its delivery was especially meaningful because it was a lesson learned from one of my closest and dearest friends (my husband.) He actually asked me to write a blogpost on his behalf and so here we are. During his Friday, he had an exceptional day. He loves the environment he is currently working in which to him feels like more of a community hospital than a large academic institution. He has encountered and experienced a breadth of cases, and he is eager to learn and excited to share. So the first thing he said to me upon the completion of his week was I just love this rotation, and I feel like this is the kind of practice I wish to have. Which, coming from someone who has experienced many years of rotations, this statement was pretty profound. And the second was his discussion of the attending he is currently working with. This attending is not just an attending but an unbelievable human, family man and teacher. The best comparison of his approach with his residents sounds similarly to the methods of my flute teacher in high school. As a teacher, they never discourage, only encourage and find ways to critique without shredding your heart into pieces but in a way that makes you want to go home and practice for 9 more hours until you get it right. And their disappointment can shred your heart into pieces with just a dissaproving nod. These individuals are teachers and mentors of the highest regards. They are brilliant at what they do but they are more importantly brilliant in teaching others to find their brilliance or realize their brilliance. That bit of teaching is difficult and takes a level of respect some teachers never find. 

It so happens that on Friday, my husband had two cases. And cases are very much like prepping for exams. You read up ahead of time about this case that you have never done, you study it, you understand the important vessels and things involved and then you come to case as prepared as possible. The first case was rather successful but the second case there was a question my husband was asked that he should have known the answer to but did not. He could tell that the attending was dissapointed but instead of calling him out in front of the others or criticizing him through harsh words, he simply remained silent and they continued on with the case. Following work, my husband received a phone call that went something like this: I want you to know that I think you did a briliant job preparing for the first case today but you didn't prepare so well for the second. In fact, I wanted you to know how disappointed I was in you that you didn't know the answer to that particular question. I did not want to call you out in front of the others and reprimand you but decided to call you afterwards. You have an excellent reputation as a resident, and I have seen great work but that doesn't excuse you from being ill-prepared. The day I don't call you and tell you this is the day I clearly don't care about you. But I do care about you, and I expect you to be better and to do better. I'm not sure why my husband telling me this had such an impact on me but I actually started tearing up a bit when he was telling me this. I think because it was so clear to me that this may have been one of the first times he had encountered a mentor who he respected with all of his heart. Whom he looked up to, wanted to be like, who threaded his practices with important lessons of humanity and who clearly cared deeply about my husband as a person first and a doctor second. Respectfully and quietly enouraging others to recognize their brilliance is no easy task. It hurts to be on the receiving end until you realize just how rare it is to be loved with the unconditional love you may have never experienced before. It's that rare. 

So today both my husband and myself thank the individuals who are brilliant at what they do but even moreso to the humans who are filled with servitude in living a life that both humbles the individuals around them and teaches them to always untap their fullest potential in the most meaningful of ways. The greatest teachers tap into our souls in a way no one else can. We hope to one day bestow this gift, in the same way, onto others as well. A lifetime of humility it takes and patience to love like this.