Distance sucks

There are no two ways about it. This is a great country, but sometimes its isolation and water locked state really get to me. In the states if you want to change your mood you can drive across the state line and become a temporary Arizonian, Idahoan, or even Canadian if you so desire. Here, if you run across the border all you hit is water. Vast amounts of water. And if something happens to a friend or family member I feel crippled, unable to share in their joy or sorrow.

The reality of my isolation became glaringly apparent today when I received some disheartening news about a close friend of mine. Someone who has been with me through a lot of my most difficult growing pains: med school, residency, fellowship, even failed dates and relationships. You can imagine my heartache when I got her email. All I wanted to do was run to be by her side. Again, water everywhere. While my swimming skills are decent, I knew they wouldn't be up for a trans-Pacific crossing. So I did the next best thing, rush to look at the web fares. Then this nagging voice spoke up in my head, something I like to call my rational mind. As much as I care about my friend and want to be there to support her, I have obligations here. I've developed a family of patients who rely on me, expect me to be here, even invite me to their houses for tea. How will they feel when I'm not here on Monday morning to help them out? I realize I care almost as much about this temporary family as I do my own friends and family in the states. But never you fret my stateside compadres, I will be back, even if I have to swim to get there. For as much as a temporary family can ease the pain, it can never take the place of the real thing. In the interim I will assist in the economic gains of the telecommunications company and call as much as I can, realizing that support comes in all forms.