The flock

Sunday 27 September 2009

I have spent the bulk of the last week out of Bagram and I’m pretty dogged. Nevertheless, I decided to go to mass last night at 1945. It seems that I am most at peace here during my times in church or in the operating room, and I pondered why that might be. At first glance, the two seem strikingly different. As I sat through the mass, though, it occurred to me that the two have some similarities- not because of the surgeon worship that some of us long for, but in the familiar rhythms that both provide. As a lifelong Roman Catholic, the familiarity and predictable rhythm of much of the mass provides kind of a sense of comfort. The practiced responses allow you to float back, reflect, and sometimes transcend on to other thoughts or places. The rhythms of the operating room are likewise predictable and comforting. The usual dance with the nurses and techs as you move around the patient, preparing and positioning him as you have done for thousands of cases; the obligatory banter with anesthesia and the scrub techs, teasing one, waiting for a witty reply; the familiar touch and feel of the instruments, the rituals of scrubbing, gowning, and gloving, all put you into a state of preparedness for what is about to occur.

I thought, though, that the rhythm of the mass isn’t what necessarily defines a good church experience. It can, certainly. Sometimes just the aura of the mass is enough to smooth out a long week. But I think the value lies in what comes after the familiarity relaxes and prepares you. You are slowed enough to think about the homily, reflect on the week you’ve had and plan for the one you hope to have. You can think about what you did, and what you wish you might have done. In a lot of ways, being in the operating room prepares and recharges me for the rest of my job here. I am most comfortable with the surgeon part of my job. It’s what I do full time at home. But I think that this clinical work has provided enough confidence for me to tackle the other aspects of my job, with which I’m not as comfortable. As an aspiring surgeon, scholar, and soldier, I strive to attain some sort of balance between the three. The scholar part of the job requires me to search for answers to questions that will improve the care of our injured warriors, and to do it the way I think it needs to be done requires the courage of a soldier to leave this base and search for those answers. If not now, when? If not me, who?

The priest reported last night that he had spent the previous night out on a foot patrol outside of the wire at Bagram with an infantry unit. He rode out in an MRAP, then dismounted and conducted a recon patrol with them. He was without night vision and, I’m sure, unarmed. Having the courage to literally and truly walk with his flock is incredibly inspiring. But he’s not the outlier in this place. While one might assume that war highlights the inhumanity of man, and while there is unbelievable suffering and tragedy, I’ve also found the opposite, here. I have also had the privilege of seeing the very best of humanity, courage and compassion, displayed over and over, again.