Meredith's Monologues

If this was your last day on Earth, how would you wanna spend it?

In hospitals they say you know. You know when you're going to die. Some doctors say it's a look patients get in their eyes. Some say there's a scent. The smell of death. Something. There's just some kind of sixth sense. When the great beyond is heading for you. You feel it coming. Whatever it is. It's creepy. Because if you know. What do you do about? Forget about the fact you're scared out of your mind. If you knew this was your last day on Earth, how would you want to spend it?

It's a look patients get in their eyes. There is a scent. The smell of death. Some kind of sixth sense. When the great beyond is headed for you, you feel it coming. What's the one thing you've always dreamed of doing before you die? Ok, hello? Clearly not my dream. See? I told you, not my dream.

We can't help ourselves. We see a line. We want to cross it. Maybe it's the thrill of trading the familiar for the unfamiliar. A sort of personal dare. Only problem is once you've crossed it's almost impossible to go back. But, if you do manage to make it back across that line. You find safety in numbers.

In surgery there is a red line on the floor that marks the point where the hospital goes from being accessible to being off limits to all but a special few. Crossing the line unauthorized is not tolerated. In general, lines are there for a reason. For safety. For security. For clarity. If you choose to cross the line, you pretty much do so at your own risk. So why is it ... the bigger the line, the greater the temptation to cross it?

No matter how hard we try to ignore it or deny it. Eventually the lies fall away. Whether we like it or not. But here's the truth about the truth. It hurts. So we lie.

As doctors we're trained to skeptical because our patients lie to us all the time. The rule is: every patient is a liar until proven honest. Lying is bad. Or so we're told. Constantly, from birth. Honesty is the best policy. The truth shall set you free. I chop down the cherry tree. Whatever. The fact is, lying is a necessity.We lie to ourselves because the truth, the truth freaking hurts.

Who gets to determine when the old ends and the new begins? It's not a day on a calendar. Not a birthday, not a new year. It's an event, big or small, something that changes us. Ideally it gives us hope.A new way of living and looking at the world.Letting go of old habits, old memories. What's important is that we never stop believing, we can have a new beginning.But it's also important to remember that amid all the crap are a few things really worth holding on to.

Fresh starts. Thanks to the calendar, they happen every year. Just set your watch to January. Our reward for surviving the holiday season is a new year. Bringing on the great tradition of New Year's resolutions. Put your past behind you and start over. It's hard to resist the chance at a new beginning. A chance to put the problems of last year to bed.

There's an old proverb that says you can't choose your family. You take what the fates hand you...and like them or not, love them or not, understand them or not ... you cope. Then there's the school of thought that says the family you're born into is simply a starting point. They feed you and clothe you and take care of you until you're ready to go out into the world....and find your tribe.

It's an urban myth that suicide rates spike at the holidays. Turns out, they actually go down. Experts think that people are less inclined to off themselves when surrounded by family. Ironically, that same family togetherness is thought to be the reason depression rates actually do spike at the holidays. Yeah, okay Izzie doesn't count.

400 years ago another well known English guy had an opinion about being alone. John Donne. He thought we were never alone. Of course it was fancier when he said it. No man is an island entire unto himself. Boil down that island talk and he just meant that all anyone needs is someone to step in. And let us know we're not alone. And who's to say that someone can't have 4 legs. Someone to play with or run around with. Or just hang out.

Forty years ago, The Beatles asked the world a simple question. They wanted to know where all the lonely people came from. My latest theory is that a great many of the lonely people come from hospitals. More precisely the surgical wings of hospitals. As surgeons we ignore our own needs so we can meet our patients' needs.We ignore our friends and families so we can save other people's friends and families. Which means that at the end of the day all we really have is ourselves. And nothing in this world can make you feel more alone than that.

How do you know how much is too much? Too much, too soon. Too much information. Too much fun. Too much love. Too much to ask. And when is it all just too much to bear?

When you were a kid, it was Halloween candy. You hid it from your parents and ate it until you got sick. In college it was the heady combo of youth, tequila and well you know... As a surgeon you take as much of the good as you can get... because it doesn't come around nearly as often as it should. Cause good things aren't always what they seem. Too much of anything, even love is not always a good thing.

Maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful is recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciate small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we're thankful for things we'll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing ... is reason enough to celebrate.

Gratitude, appreciation, giving thanks. No matter what words you use, it all means the same thing. Happy. We're supposed to be happy. Grateful for friends, family, happy just to be alive... Whether we like it or not.