how i feel

It is important to me that I take a minute or eighty and reflect on my trip.  As a preamble, this post has proved the most difficult  to write.  And I do not know why.

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I have been in the land of the free and the home of the brave for forty-one days.  My return was quite entertaining thanks to both jet lag and reverse culture shock.  My better thirds (roommates Ben and John) scooped me up from Columbus Municipal Hangar and laughably oriented me.  "Zach, we are your friends."  "Zach, this is a McDonald's."  "Zach, this is where you live."  We were up until 2:00am or so swapping stories.  Having gotten much shut eye IST --> ORD, I was wide awake.  This was opportune to finish those slides for my presentation.  I finally turned in around 8:00am and snoozed through the middle of the day.  The presentation went swimmingly and it was on to a fancy place nearby to watch the Bucks ruin Indiana's senior night.  Quite a first day back.  Thankfully, though, iCal showed the rest of my week with little to do.

After seven days, I felt generally returned to my former self.  The most difficult changes to reconcile were constant Internet access and ever-available food; the most pleasing was smooth roads.  Any mental attention still divided was called into focus on Monday, March 11th at 12:00pm, when graduating medical students were informed whether or not s/he had matched.  40,803 applicants for 29,171 spots and a career of academic progress leading to this point made my pulse quicken upon receiving an e-mail.  I matched!  So began Match Week, culminating in Friday's Match Day.  The 200+ members of my class, flanked by family and friends, tore into envelopes after the air horn blew at noon.  I am overjoyed to report that I matched Med/Peds at The Ohio State University/Nationwide Children's Hospital, my first choice.  It is a rite of passage in medical training and a day that I will never forget.  It was especially meaningful to share the day (and liquid evening) with my family and friends.

So, obviously, life quickly resumed all ahead full but my free moments in thought were spent in Angola.  Time has certainly been doing its kiln-like thing: my fresh experiences are now hardened reflections.  Approaching a conclusion to this blog, I want to share such reflections, forecasted hopes for Angola, the current state of things, and where I am headed.

Two days after returning home, I scribbled a list of what I gained and what I had lost.  I gained an appreciation for the ability to be mobile, to travel freely.  I gained new insight into Black History.  I also gained an introduction to an entirely other way of life.  I lost twelve pounds.  I lost medical innocences, seeing in sharp relief the burden of disease.  I lost tolerance (empathy? patience?) for the complaints heard among first-world life.  This columned approach is reaffirmed by my two central reflections: the prevailing human condition and the idea of choice overload.

Our communal ability to survive, to succeed owes thanks to judging differences among people.  This is central to the way we navigate everyday life.  The truly beautiful thing, though, is our sheer commonness.  Smiles, laughs, tears, love, hunger, and fatigue have no language.  With words, I can only hope to come near the impact of seeing, 7,000 miles away, a vain young mother, a patient drawing breath after hearing the word, "cancer," and a five-year-old birthday girl just as they are 7 miles away.  We have and should resolutely retain our respective cultures and identities but is it not one of life's most precious gifts that we share the same foundation of feeling?

It was most auspicious to read that generational article on the flight to Angola.  "Choice overload," is not a concept that I had heard before.  In one month's time, it is now something that I deeply care about and strongly identify with.  We, in the first-world, have at our disposal a laughable amount of things.  For example, I routinely frequent three groceries, six gas stations, and five coffee shops (but only one Chipotle).  Extrapolate that to daily decisions about which outfit to wear, what shows to watch, and with whom to spend time!  While, thankfully, this also lends itself to a competitive market and advanced technology, I feel the personal ramifications to be net negative.  It is kindling for inefficiency, let alone anxiety.  Fueled by the ongoing share vs. humble brag that is social media, choice overload is an issue.  My mind was freed in Angola because of a limited menu of activity, food, and clothes.

Angola has an incessant need for not only medical but also humanitarian relief.  The most frustrating aspect here is that the country itself can do so much better.  Their land is one rich in resources, vast, and protected from international turmoil.  The government's blatant corruption and neglect of its citizens are embarrassing.  The quasi-communist ability to control the discussion and so much oil deservedly places all the blame and shame one can muster squarely on the ruling elite.  When will the paradigm shift?  Who will be the new voice for the people?  I long for the day when, like a banyan tree, a shade of prosperity spreads from Luanda to cover all Angolans.

I have positively enjoyed fielding questions about my global health elective.  Especially nice, though, was a dinner last Monday at Northstar.  I met Diane Lui, Ohio University student matched in pediatrics, who was less than a week returned from Lubango.

We had originally envisioned travelling together but circumstances led us a month apart.  In the wake of Match Day and the abrupt resumption of our lives, it was special to share so directly with each other.  We clandestinely joined forces to say thank you to the Kubacki family (chocolate, Vera Bradley notebook, cumin, calligraphy pens, Starbucks coffee, plastic baggies) and I was glad to hear about their receiving our gifts.  I had received an e-mail from Dr. Dan Cummings that morning upon receipt of an oxygen saturation monitor I had sent, in which he shared updates about patients we had seen together.  We discussed patient care and personal feelings.  Diane had such great insight into the ongoing meaning of visiting for our lives and we shared many laughs and a few sighs.  That dinner was a perfect venue to revisit our thoughts, not indirectly leading to writing this final entry.

And so, as I move forward with life, I feel fortunate.  I am, in so many ways, where I want to be.  Though (and thankfully) not perfect, life is a wonderful thing.  I don't know about you, but I really enjoy the thought that when I sleep, those on the other side of the world are awake.  But, as a man once said, the world ain't all sunshine and rainbows.  I turn twenty-six next month and I have one major complaint to file with life thus far: how quickly everything palls!

I am saddened that even the most amazing of experiences is allowed to seem old hat, especially so soon.  Those new toys lie forgotten, the Harlem Shake disappears as quickly as it came on the scene, and the ardent African thoughts fade to fond memories.  Thinking about this more, I take solace in that it clears room for new and deeper feelings: no satisfaction without desire's retreat, no love if not for infatuation's waning.  What I am getting at is my lament for how quickly Angolan details slip from my short term memory.

My name is Zach Rossfeld and I logged a hundred and seventy-one clinical hours in Angola.  I lived and learned among a talented and diverse group of people.  I cared for the sick.  I saw a different land and a different way of life.  I am changed for having done so.  Thank you to all who supported my trip and followed along.

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There's a feeling, unlike the myriad others I imagine we are all prone to feel, that I've felt a certain few times in my life.  First, as a kid, with that first death in the family.  More recently, it's after I close a just-read book or take a poignant patient history.  The feeling is that of something you passively experience affecting you in a real way.  The power of what you've just heard and saw, you then actually feel.  A very 1, 2 situation and something entirely different than empathy.  This experience, in some way, transformed me from that passive, "oh," to an active, "okay."  For this, I am, and will remain, forever thankful.

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All this, though, only forty-one days returned.  Time and change will surely show how firm the impact of having grabbed life by the horns.

Finis.