I looked out the window. I’d been here before, almost 2 years previously, it was the end of the bus line. Arriving here meant I’d taken the wrong bus. There were several buses with the same number that had overlapping routes but ended in different places. The last time I’d caught this wrong bus was shortly after I moved to my Peace Corps volunteer site in Paraguay. At that time, I was still learning my community and Paraguayan culture. The first time I ended up at this bus line end, I wasn’t sure how I’d get home. The uncertainty made my heart beat faster. I asked the bus driver for directions; he had been able to help. It took several hours but I ended up home, unharmed though slightly frustrated I’d mixed up the buses.

I’d learned so much since I first visited this bus depot accidentally. Since then, Emboscada, Paraguay had become my home. Emboscada was, perhaps, the first place I’d ever lived where I was certain it was home. As the days that added up to the previous two years had unfolded, I’d found a community and made friends. I’d been a schoolteacher and connected with youth over music, English, and dreams. In my Paraguayan community, older friends had died, younger friends had married, and I’d been to parties and celebrations of every variety and magnitude you can imagine.

I looked out the window and I laughed. I was an expert, yet I still took the wrong bus and didn’t realize it until I arrived here at this bus depot. In a few short months I’d leave Paraguay. I’d say “goodbye” to the home I’d found and created. I’d return to my native country and start the Doctorhood Quest. I laughed because arriving at this bus depot wasn’t scary like it had been the first time I ended up here. I knew it would take a few hours to catch the right bus and travel to the bus stop in front of my house. I’d arrive home eventually. My little Paraguayan house would be waiting for me.

This event was about 8 years ago, yet I’ve found myself thinking about it a lot recently. I’ve been reminded of it because I recently turned a page in the Doctorhood Quest that is like what I was turning in my Peace Corps service at that time. I feel settled in my role as a resident physician. I feel comfortable with what kind of doctor I am. I am happy with what I’ve accomplished and look forward to my future goals. I had similar sentiments about my Peace Corps service while I waited for the right bus to pick me up at that last bus stop.

It might seem premature to have such contented feelings about residency. But I know that the remaining 20ish months of residency will be over soon. I have so much to learn in those remaining months. Yet I know I will learn what needs to be learned. For the first time in my journey of becoming a physician, I’m confident that I’m where I need to be. I know how to get home even when I take a wrong turn.

Being an expert isn’t about always catching the right bus, it’s about knowing how to find your way home when you catch the wrong one. It’s about being calm even when things are unexpected. It’s about embracing the journey. It’s about laughing at yourself because experiences that make you grow and challenge you also put you in ridiculous situations.

How ridiculous is it to take the wrong bus after having taken the right one 100s of times? “Quite ridiculous” is the answer. But mistakes are what make us human. We learn from mistakes, even if the lesson is simply a reminder to laugh at ourselves. Life is serious, but not so serious that we can’t appreciate its absurd moments.