The Ten Thousandth Hour

A very good friend of mine once told me: “If you don’t know where to start, just start where you are.”

And so I’m going to start with my ride home from another day of practicing neurosurgery. Today was a 13-hour day, in a string of 10+ hour days, and the day’s end found me walking through downtown Seattle at 9pm with a grin. I gathered quite a few stares with my attire: cowboy(girl) boots, aqua scrubs, and an outdoor coat from REI. It was as if all of the fractured parts of a personality—my personality—were finally coming together. The animal lover, the outdoor adventurer, and the medical nerd.

I’ve spent time thinking about how someone gets good at something, like really good. I’ve heard that it takes upwards of 10,000 hours to sufficiently retain a unique and demanding skill and declare oneself somewhat of an “expert” at it. I’ve heard that a Buddhist monk will spend 10,000 hours in silent meditation before he or she feels they can adequately meditate. I’ve thought about that kind of discipline and whether or not I would find something I could–-or would want to—dedicate that much of my own precious life to. 

That was years ago. Now, I know I could spend years perfecting lightweight backpacking, long distance running, mountain viewing, meditating, writing, philosophizing. But…nothing has seemed to satisfy my interest, curiosity, and instill such a unique personal challenge quite like medicine.  

That same friend who told me to start where I am also told me to quit while I’m ahead. With another long day of surgery tomorrow and my last few days of this rotation drawing near, I’m going to heed that advice.

Only 9,999 hours to go...