Pushing Past Procrastination

Even as I write this title, I know it is not quite right.

I did not procrastinate away my time in 2021. I survived working within the frontline of the greatest pandemic we have seen in our lifetime.

But, yet, there is something that rings true. That voice in my head reminding me of all of the things I didn’t do. Now, in truth, I can give myself the grace to accept why there are so many unfinished tasks left from the last year. And, I can extend that grace to anyone reading this too. It is ok. We are not alone.

Yet, as those thoughts of unfinished work edge in on my consciousness, there is one truth that I have to acknowledge and accept. There are some projects and goals that remain unmet and existed for some time prior to the onslaught of 2021.

For me, one of those unfinished projects is a book proposal. Or two.

Drafted, post-it notes of chapter content decorate the window by my desk. A proposal nearly done, yet somehow moving those post-its into written form has been daunting as trying to rearrange the tectonic plates myself.

So, in support of procrastination, I have not been writing, but have been reading. “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert (Amazon affiliate link below), really hit home. Writing does not need to be perfect. It does not matter what the critics say, or if a critic ever sees it. But, to have a love affair with the creative process, to seek out that time with vigor and passion, to pursue that which you love doing, is always worth it.

That time means that blog posts will not be perfect or thematic. But writing them is of more value than pushing them off and procrastinating.

How am I pushing past this stage of purgatorial procrastination? One way or another, I am going to write every day. Sometimes, it will be a blog post. Sometimes, it will be in my journal. Sometimes, it will be on that proposal, transitioning those post-it notes into the passion project it has always been, but perfectionism and fear have stymied efforts on.

Will this effort be perfect? No. Not even close.

But I do believe that passion and perseverance can overcome procrastination, as long as perfectionism is no longer embraced (yes, I realize how hard that is, but we all can do hard things).

With this in mind, I hope to share some of this journey with you, with the end goal of finishing that proposal and sending it out. My goal cannot be an accepted proposal, but simply finishing it. That is enough.

Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

By Gilbert, Elizabeth

Buy on Amazon

The Teachers That Change Us Forever - Thank You

Well, I need to be honest here. This is now my third attempt at writing this. I made a fatal mistake, twice, that led to the deletion of a what I feel like may have been one of my best posts ever. Now, I am back in word, typing old school, because I simply cannot lose this again. I can only hope, I can remember this with the accuracy and authenticity I delivered in the last version. Thank you for witnessing my fallibility. Enjoy!

Once upon a childhood dream, I was going to be a teacher. Truly, a noble, yet under-appreciated, profession. But that was not the path I set out on. Yet, in through a circuitous route, decades later, I indeed have found myself a teacher. See, in academic medicine, we teach. I teach students, residents, fellows, and at times, other faculty and medical professionals. Sometimes life surprises us. Sometimes, the lessons we learn along the way change us forever, but we only see the change in hindsight.

I have had the distinct pleasure of having many teachers in my life, some formal and others, like my family and friends, more informal. But every year at this time, I reflect on the formal teachers who provided pivotal moments that changed me forever. See, June 30 is the end of the academic year and brings with it times of significant transition. Graduations and matriculations. Each of these time periods will carry quintessential skills and knowledge, but sometimes, the textbooks are not our greatest lessons. They are not the education that carves our identity and defines our values. So today, I want to thank a few formal teachers who’s words changed me forever.

To my elementary teachers who saw a spark, something special, and encouraged me. Thank you, you fanned the flames of confidence that have carried me through medical training to where I am today. You were the launching pad, and I am here because of you.

To my high school teacher who told me to aim higher for myself, because I was too smart not too. Thank you for igniting the spark that I could be more than I imagined. You changed my  path forever that day.

To my college professor who offered me a tutor within 5 minutes of my first science class, because it was going to be ‘hard’. Thank you for teaching me that gender bias is pervasive and that I need to face it head on. Thank you for being the start of my strive for diversity, equity and inclusion. And thank you, for inspiring me to prove you wrong by being your top student that semester. Without a tutor. In fact, I became the tutor.

To my college professor who believe in me enough to encourage me to apply to medical school, and then to be vulnerable enough to acknowledge you had never had a student successfully get accepted. We traversed unknown paths together, and you were a proven ally. I was the student that changed your track record. You showed me that new paths could be carved and history is only that, it does not need to predict the future.

To my medical school interviewer, who started by noting I was an ‘atypical’ applicant and then decided to interview me in German (one of my minors). Thank you for considering the value of those who did not fit the traditional mold. You took a chance and advocated fiercely for me, which I learned much later. I wholeheartedly believe you were the reason for my only acceptance to a medical school. Thank you for being an ally and a sponsor. Without you, I never would have applied again.

To the medical school faculty who told me my first year that I needed to dress more appropriately and more professionally, you succeeded, but only for a time. You taught me the antithesis of what you believed; professionalism is less about how we appear, and more about who we are and how we show up. You were the impetus for the transition back to what I decided was professional, which was reflective of who I am. Professionalism is not, and should never be, defined simply by appearance. Humanity is different, so is appearance. Embrace it.

To the medical faculty, who told me my chosen career path was impossible and suggesting I choose a more common road; thank you for enforcing my perseverance and reminding me that there is value in carving a new path.

To the medical faculty who once called me a ‘pioneer’ for carving a new path; I was struck by the comment and felt unworthy. Thank you for seeing and calling out the value in taking the unconventional route, for driving for change and innovation, even if I could not see that in myself at the time.

To the medical faculty who told me I would give up academic medicine and become a soccer mom like all the others, thank you for again reminding me that bias supersedes science. You further fortified my perseverance to succeed, even in the face of ongoing bias and discrimination. You were wrong.

To the medical faculty to who told me I could be a good academic physician, or a good mom, but not both; thank you. You reminded me always keep family in mind and ensure that I have the quality time I need, and desire, with my family. I would venture to say I in fact have succeeded at both, by many merits. Oh, and by the way, I am also one heck of a soccer mom.

To the medical faculty who took an unprecedented risk on me, thank you. You were the ally, mentor, sponsor, and now friend, that took a risk on me. We both know it. It was brutal at the time, but I know we both also are proud of the outcome.

To the medical faculty and organizations who offered me a job, thank you for being risk takers, innovators, and for your foresight. You are the ones willing to make a difference by disrupting the status quo. Thank you for continuing to be my supporters, even though we are in different places.

To my UNMC and Nebraska Medicine leaders and colleagues, thank you. You allowed me to join your ranks, welcomed me, and have given me the distinct privilege to continue on my road-less-taken path. I will be forever grateful to be part of this UNMC/NM family, and hope I can continue to be a driver of change of the status quo, for equity, inclusion, and diversity; and that I can become the teacher that positively changes the life of a student.

And, with that, as we prepare to for the dawn on of July 1, 2021, to the students, residents, fellows and new faculty – I am so excited for you. Yes, you will face hard times, criticism, naysayers, doubters, and for many, frank bias. But know, you have many of us as allies, mentors, sponsors, confidants and friends. You are the future change makers, the educators, the innovators, and another generation to lead us forward. Support each other. Cheer each other on. Strive to recognize and manage your biases (we all have them). Value collaboration over competition; and always remember that there is room at the table for everyone.

Finally, remember that some of the greatest lessons imparted on you will not come from a textbook or a lecture. Sometimes, what we need to learn most in medicine is the vast expanse of what humanity entails.

Love In The Time of COVID

It’s funny how a pandemic truly can change everything. Not just the way our children go to school, or how we practice healthcare, or even how we shop for the simplest of things that we took for granted in the past, like Clorox wipes or toilet paper.

In truth, this pandemic has even changed the way we love. To explain how I see the shift, below is my love letter to my friends and family.

To my loved ones,

I know this pandemic has impacted all of our lives in ways we never could have imagined. I understand how hard it is to continue to maintain social distancing, wear masks, and yet still try find some level of “normal“ in our current lives. In my role as a physician, and one who has served on the frontline against COVID-19, the way I express my love and how much I value our relationships has changed.

You can see my love each time I decline a hug, because I never know who may have COVID-19, including me.

You can see my love every time I decline an invitation to spend time together, because I value our relationship so much that it is not worth the risk to get too close.

You can see my love each time I remind you to use hand sanitizer, not because I am a germaphobe, but because I don’t want you to forget and accidentally become sick.

You can see my love in spending time together only if outdoors, and with as much social distancing as possible, or with masks. Because sometimes, love means to protect, and this is the best I can do to protect you right now.

It would be easy to mistake my love as emotional distancing. As the beginning of the end of our relationship. It would also be easy to be frustrated with me. To remind me that you have not gotten sick yet, so it’s ok.

But, it is not ok. I have witnessed families torn apart by COVID-19. People devastated by unknowingly bringing COVID-19 to others, only to see a life lost. The burden of grief we carry from the frontline is too heavy and deep to forget. I love you too much to let that happen to us.

I hope you too can understand that love today is no longer about warm embraces and get-togethers. Love is distanced and, at times, feels cold and lonely. Love is about protecting those that I care about (to the best of my ability). Love is working long hours and continuing to maintain distancing and masking.

Love has always been hard, but perhaps it is never been harder than amidst a global pandemic.

Published originally on Medium: https://medium.com/@kellycawcutt/love-in-the-time-of-covid-4c214aec340b

Are You Really the Attending?

Today, my social media accounts are flooded with empowering posts for International Womens Day. I am particularly struggling on this day. I am a passionate advocate for women, inclusion, diversity and equality, but this week, I am tired.

I am tired of the perpetual need to defend my expertise. I am tired of being asked how old I am because I do not look ‘old enough’ to be an attending. I am tired of the demeaning manner in which I am too often treated, as though I am a child and not a successful woman. I am tired of the assumption that motherhood somehow negates my career potential. And, I am tired because I observe so many similar scenarios among my friends, colleagues and coworkers.

Recently, I was acutely reminded yet again of how far we still have to go. After seeing a patient in the hospital and relaying my updates to the nurse, I was asked to repeat who I was. After identifying myself again as the attending physician on the team, I was further asked to clarify this despite showing my badge, noting my name on the chart and finally, ending with leaving to see my next patient, uncertain that I was believed.

Often, if I share such stories, I see looks of disbelief. If I raise the idea that we still have significant gender bias in medicine, based on endless stories such as this or the frank published evidence in the medical literature, I am a disruptor. Being a disruptor can certainly be a lonely place; but whether I am weary or not, whether I am discriminated against or not, I do know that nothing changes if we do not call it out. If we do not raise awareness to the unconscious biases, the stereotypes and the flat out discrimination. Disruption is necessary to fuel change.

Yet, some days, even warriors are weary.

To the women and men working endlessly for equality, I know it does not come ‘tirelessly’.

Thank you. Keep on my friends, weary or not, warriors we remain.