writer's block

     I could say that my lack of writing was due to the Match process.  I did not wish to write anything that could drop me to the bottom of a program's list.  In part, this is true insomuch as it is a rationalization.  It is what I told myself when confronted with the fact that so much emotion has poured out through my fingers these past years and now my fingers desired a break.  In truth, I wished for nothing worth writing about.  Like an old photograph negative, my life has consisted of sharp contrasts in dark and light.  Though artistically interesting, it is a difficult environment in which to survive, much less thrive.  I am a doctor.  Though there were fewer people to watch me walk across the stage than were there to watch me start.  I have made great strides in being able to connect with patients at the deepest of levels and yet each step has cost me dearly.  Such is the nature of my life.  I am still attempting to search for a new life to build among the surreal rubble of boulders heaved down on me from upon high.  I've had enough of rolling boulders up hills to only watch them go down again.  I could stand some more moss.