Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune–without the words,

And never stops-at all,

— Emily Dickinson

It is a truth universally acknowledged that things that are most hoped for only happen when you have truly given up all hope of them happening at all. As a hamster in the wheel of a large hospital, it was beginning to seem impossible that there would ever be anything else but feet blurring in front of me as the wheel spun around and around, the same faces, the same diseases and becoming mired with the feeling of helpless impotence. After my disastrous and ego quashing interview earlier this year, and the subsequent rejection for a higher position, I moped for a little while, before becoming philosophical and choosing a new path with fervor. One that encouraged me to read more books in the last month than in the last two years combined. 

I had sketchy plans of applying again, though the tiny sting of rejection still burned a little - a not quite healed paper cut over which fresh lemon was squeezed with memory. Until today when a phone call restored my dreams and ambition and told me with cheer that there was another light, along another tunnel and that I would one day not be just another junior doctor, at the whim and mercy of hospital bureaucracy and ancient consultants. 


I have been accepted into a training program, and now start the final descent into formal study (or hell, depending on your perspective), from which I will emerge as a fellow of a Royal Australian College. And at the end of these five long years, I will be able to work hours that will allow me to take my 12 year old to her school disco, and keep a watchful eye over her. I will be able to cuddle my 9 year old in bed every night, EVERY night, and read her stories if she will still let me. I will be able to be "that" parent that actually helps in a classroom and is there to help her 6 year old son read his first readers. 


It sometimes feels like I have done too much already, more study, more hard yards than most people do in their jobs. I am simultaneously anxious and terrified about this new position - about the new responsibilities and the study and cost that will come with it. 


But even when I think with rising panic of all that is to come - I see what lies beyond it, shimmering beautifully. And I think of all the wonderful times I had while studying, even when panicked and anxious - the total joy in learning and studying, I have so much hope for the coming months and years. 


I will be a nervous wreck. I will second guess my decision and my abilities and all that is within me. But while the beautiful song of hope trills through my chest, I know that I am working for something beautiful. Something worth having.