Puerto Natales – Day 4: Doctor or Nomad?
PUERTO NATALES
Day 4: Doctor or Nomad?
March 31, 2023
A day I had been both looking forward to and dreading had finally come. Since starting this journey, there were very few days when I didn’t think about this one with a great sense of anticipation, even though it would also mark the end of yet another beautiful chapter in my life. At this point, I kinda didn’t even wanna think about it. And now that the moment had arrived, I felt completely and utterly blindsided – and terrified.
In a surprising twist of events, I woke up to about ten messages, all saying the same thing: “Marius, the basic specialisation training applications are open!”. I was convinced they’d be published either once I was stuck in the middle of the Patagonian mountains with zero internet connection or once I was back home. Technically, my prophecy wasn’t too far off, considering I was actually meant to be trekking around that time but couldn’t due to logistics.
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Finding myself locked up in the drom, you could say the timing was nothing short of perfect. As I lay there in bed, with plenty to do outside of my four walls, all I could think about were the things I had to do right there and then. “This is it, I guess. I have to start getting my crap together right about now. I have to go back to reality soon,” I told myself over and over. I couldn’t believe it. In just two weeks’ time, I’d be returning to normalcy. What I once thought of as a chance to experience the real world had become a lifestyle – one I wasn’t quite sure I could leave behind.
The Ultimatum
When I first started this trip, for months on end, I was wrecked with grief after leaving behind a job I loved so much – one that filled me with such passion and drive that it overshadowed everything else in my life. And now, standing so close to the end, I could hardly believe it – no, I could hardly accept it.Â
How does one go back to a normal, sedentary, nine-to-five lifestyle after months on the road doing things I could never have even dreamt of? How would I reconcile the sight of cranes towering over traffic-jammed roads, amidst the overpopulated concrete mess that is Malta, with the landscapes I’d come to love and expect out here? How would I cope with gossip, petty drama, and work talk instead of swapping incredible tales and adventures with fellow travellers? I felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum on their first day of school: “I don’t wanna leave. I don’t wanna go!”.
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I freaked out. Adding to the list of reasons why I wanted to give up my life in Malta and become a nomad was the fact that I was now applying for a job I wasn’t even sure I truly wanted. Once again, the neurosurgery versus emergency medicine debate that had been simmering for months resurfaced. Only this time, it wasn’t a debate so much as an ultimatum.
By this point, my idea was to apply as a basic specialist trainee in surgery – a training programme lasting two years. During this time, I’d be working towards becoming a surgeon – the very same goal I’d been chasing ever since I got into medicine – while also buying myself enough time to figure out what I actually wanted to do, who I wanted to be. The world would still be my oyster this way. And if I decided to change my mind and prioritise travelling as much as I do medicine, my surgical training would surely come in handy down the line.
After those two years, no matter how busy I might be or how little I’d manage to feed the adrenaline junkie within me, I’d once again be standing at a crossroads. I could either continue down the path to neurosurgery or upend my life entirely and pursue a career in expedition medicine. I had no rush, no set timeline, no restrictions. That window would be my fail-safe.
Embracing Change
I spent the day locked up in my room tying up loose ends for my application. Luckily, my organisational skills served me well – I had almost everything ready. Just some final tweaks to my resume, uploading qualifications and achievements, requesting official documents, and that was it. Once I had everything in place, I could submit the whole thing. My first choice would be general surgery, followed by emergency medicine.
I won’t lie – revisiting my achievements and thinking about my future career prospects brought with it a certain sense of relief. As much as I hate putting down roots, the thought of returning to the hospital I’d come to call my home, my sanctuary, made me feel warm and gooey inside. I wouldn’t just be returning to something that gave my life meaning. Waiting for me would also be colleagues and patients I love and cherish.
That morning, when the news first hit, it felt like I was inching towards my own funeral, as if I’d hammered the final nail into my coffin. Yet by the end of the day, I wanted to grab the same scalpel I’d earlier imagined jabbing into my own carotid and instead use it to slice open a scalp and save a life once again. Life goes on. Things end, other things begin, and, most importantly, we are in control of what we choose to do with our lives.
I figured I’d take things as they come and deal with them step by step. As I always say, change is the only constant in life. And once again, I found myself embracing it.