By Jessiela Roberts
“I have nothing more to give. I have run out of gas.”
These were the tragic last words said by a fellow physician before ending it all.
I wish I could borrow one of those precious last minutes to tell him that he wasn’t alone:
I, too, have been there, and there is light on the other side of darkness.
Often, we must look within for the courage to reach out for a torch in the dark.
There is one where we least expect.
Broken candles can be relit even when they have burnt out.
Though diminished by circumstances, a fire can be awakened with a small gust of wind.
I wish I could tell him,
“Tomorrow is depending on you to show up, so don’t give up today without a fight.
There are more people for you than against you.
There is so much good in you, in the world, and in our profession still.”
I wish that every healer who feels the embers of hope slowly burning out will remember to turn their face towards heaven and catch a gust of wind so strong that it is enough to ignite a wildfire.
Strong enough to overcome the despair and replace it with hope.
Strong enough to remind themselves that they are enough, that they are more than the initials or lack thereof at the end of their names.
They are more than their mistakes or deficiencies.
They are more than that exam or negative remark from an attending.
I wish I could shout from the mountain top to say that they are human first and healers second.
It’s ok to prioritize themselves and get the help needed to refill their gas tanks.
It’s ok to pursue that which sets their soul on fire, even though it may upset the status quo.
I wish they knew that they are equally deserving of the respect, dignity, and compassion they give to their patients.
Collectively, we are more powerful than we think, and together we can be the change we want to see.
Small flickers of light can glow in the dark; random acts of kindness can keep someone’s lamp from burning out.
We are not all guilty of eating our young.
We don’t all breathe the air of self-importance.
We don’t all fuel our own ego by stumping out the flames of the weak with our influence.
To the struggling: There are those of us who see you, who feel you, and are ready to make space for you.
There are those of us who keep our lighthouses lit, because we know what it’s like to have been lost and burnt in the dark.
Since I can’t be everywhere, and I can’t save everyone, I pass the torch to you reading this poem to spread hope and love in the dark corners of our profession.
Because sometimes as physicians we can’t heal ourselves—we need others to heal us.
Jessiela Roberts, M.D., is a Family Medicine Specialist in Fort Smith, Arkansas. She is a graduate of Trinity School of Medicine.
