Why us?

Laurie's post got me thinking more about an idea that crossed my mind last week during the Psych rotation.  

Bad luck doesn't seem equally distributed.  

I have little sympathy for many type 2 diabetics who gorge themselves 3+ times per day on Cokes and candies.  But then again, what if that's truly the only type of food you're able to purchase after you pay your rent, childcare expenses, etc.?  What if you are a Cherokee Indian struggling to preserve your heritage by living on the reservation but having trouble making ends meet?  You are, more or less, forced to buy the types of food which trigger your genetic susceptibility to diabetes.  Is it really "your fault" then?  

Last week, I worked with a mom-aged lady suffering with anorexia who was certain that she would be "healthier, better" at 80 pounds (she was 5'1).  She looked so naive at that moment, as if she truly believed she only needed to eat every fourth day.  She also suffered from bipolar disorder and was hospitalized in the past several times for lithium ODs (suicide attempts, she has white scars all over the lower insides of her arms).  One OD occurrence was the result of her ex-husband/boyfriend telling her that she was unworthy of going to church.  Her admission recently was due to witnessing her brother being hit (and killed) by a car right outside of her home after a visit.  She told the inpatient therapist that she considered him her best friend.  

There was a 25 year old last week on the Oncology floor who has made numerous trips back and forth to Duke for different (and often experimental/cutting edge) cancer treatments, without success.  He's routinely here for pain management.  He turned 25 last week in the hospital.  We had a birthday party for him.  When I poked my head in one morning and we talked for a bit, he seemed sad.  Not acutely sad, just beaten down--chronically sad.  It broke my heart.  I got him all the regular Cokes and milkshakes he asked for.   

I suppose its too early to tell, but it causes me physical discomfort to read patient's History&Physicals and hear stories about their lives--lives that are starkly dissimilar to mine.  I've cried on more than one occasion on the floor, and I think that my preceptor tapped my shoulder once to snap me out of a prayer.  

I don't understand why my biggest concerns in life are whether I got 8 or 9 hours of sleep the previous night or that my quads are sore from getting distracted on a trail and running for 30 minutes longer than I intended.  I can't reconcile these "luck" differences to myself --I don't think I've done thing worthy of this good fortune, and these individuals I've encountered seemed kind, loving, and concerned about those they love.  I feel like if I intend to be in health care as a career, I need to have a firm stance on this topic.