Cohort
Cast minds back to that letter
The “we’re delighted to offer you a place with us” letter
That moment was an “I did it. I did it”
And those months leading up to that first day it was more of the same…
“When I start, … where will I live, … I’ll do this, do that, … I’ll show that I…”
Those fantasies, weren’t they “I’ll help… I’ll heal, me, I”
I, I, I
So many “I”s
But.
The first day arrives
And aren’t we swallowed up whole?
From I
To eyes
Trying to catch them
Because room 433 could be 4 million and 33
Seeking
Just
One ally, one friend
One person who doesn’t already have a fucking PhD
And as this is done
Noticing how “my experience, my knowledge” pales
And later
A knock back from a patient and perhaps it fades further
A kick from a supervisor and maybe that me is barely there
And even those wonderful refreshing lectures
They too
Remind us that it wasn’t a me or an I but perhaps privilege all along
Then
(Perhaps without noticing)
We have been buoyed, been carried
By those other eyes
By those other “I”s
By these allies who see our mistakes, yet stick around
By those fucking PhDers who, it transpires, bring kindness too
By these new friends
So, gradually
Humility thrives
And
In sessions
In place of a polite pause before we speak, we listen
In place of our own lurch to reframe, we are curious
In place of our learned advice we say “I wonder…”
And there comes a day when it feels like
It is not I
It was never just me
So there’s no surprise that it jars when
Handing in
Submitting
Qualifying
Others say
“well done you”
“you must be so proud”
“all your hard work!”
And of course I’m the one with the fucking doctorate…
But today
I see you all, wonderful doctors
I see your “I”s
I see your beautiful eyes
Your knowledge, our wisdom
Your ability, our skill
Your strength, our resilience
Your achievement, our success
Your kindness,
Our cohort.
Our wonderful cohort.