Awakening

I've been watching the news channels during the wee hours of the morning these past few weeks. I prefer not watching those TV series. If I got hooked, I may not have time for anything else again. LOL. So it's either news or documentaries. Images of terrorist attacks continue to litter the headlines. Bombings. Mass Murder. Images of people wounded and hurt. Along with persistent feeling that i wanted to help. I wanted to do something, instead of simply watching their plight comfortably seated in front of the TV screen at home.

Earlier this week, while i was walking along my neighborhood, I bumped into someone who knew me. She was the one who saw me first, and she immediately ran towards me. This woman whom I wasn't familiar with, smiling, running towards me. Turns out, she was the mother of one of my patients during my trauma rotation. She mentioned her child's name and pretended to remember. Of course I could not exactly remember who he was, because of the huge number of patients I've encountered for the past few years. Months have passed, and yet she could not stop thanking me for treating her child so well. I was with my grandmother then, and there was an expression of undeniable pride on her face.

Yesterday, we went to the province for our annual tradition of honoring our departed loved ones. This was one tradition i never looked forward to. I remembered thinking that I'd rather be on duty at the hospital than spend the whole day doing next to nothing in the family mausoleum. Our ancient ancestors were buried there--- people I never (or barely) knew. Personally, I would rather visit my departed grandfather's grave in the city. But traditions are hard to break, i guess.

Back in June, one of our consultant's patients was a familiar face. He occasionally worked as our carpenter, fixing things around the house. He was diagnosed as a possible case of gastric cancer--- a diagnosis that never became definitive because they opted to go home instead of finishing all the necessary work-ups. He lived near the mausoleum. Presently, he was weaker and thinner compared to when I last saw him. He asked several questions, which I am not in a liberty to answer because I was no longer affiliated to the hospital.

These past few days seemed to have been enlightening. I know that I still don't want to be a doctor, and I silently cringe hen I think about making a career out of it for the rest of my life... but all those years spend in med school has given me the knowledge and skills to make a difference. It seems like an awful waste to not use them. It even seems shameful. Maybe there's a reason why I've found myself walking along this path, begrudgingly. What use are our talents and skills if we do not use them? Not everyone is a doctor. In life, we have different roles to play, we have different skills to contribute. I can't just sit back and do nothing, knowing that I am capable of doing something. I may be uncertain of this medical career, but I am certain of one thing--- I do want to help. Nothing beats the emotional high one gets when you become aware that you have made a difference in other people's lives, that you have made their lives easier... better. I may feel "forced" into a career that I never really wanted to be a part of, but i never feel that I am forced to reach out and help another.

If only I've managed to keep things in the proper perspective, i wouldn't have stalled as i traveled along this path. Even when we take all things into consideration, all those sacrifices we have to make, all those walls we have to hurdle... having a medical career is still rewarding. Going back wouldn't be too bad at all.