I said some months ago that I needed to let go of my writer’s heart in order to heal. For what it’s worth, it worked.
2 months ago I decided to give myself a break and allow myself to do whatever I want. So yeah, during my one month holidays I basically let my hormones dominate my hypothalamus and maybe a little bit of my tear ducts. I literally locked myself up, I've lost some friends, made some new friends and gone through lots of dramatic emotional break downs.
In these 2 months I've also started walking in and out of the hospital on a daily basis. How does it feel you ask me? Yes of course with the white coat and the stethoscope I do get that "ah, I'm gonna be a doctor" feel. Sometimes it hit me a bit too hard I started to panic; if the patient is cooperative you feel good and thankful because someone's willing to trust you despite being only a medical student. As cliche as it may sound, sometimes you feel so... insignificant because there's too little that you know of/ can do to help those sick patients. But most of the time when I see a sick person lying on the bed, energy deprived and hunger for air at the same time, he had to gather all the left energy he has to gasp for air, I came to realize how tiny and stupid I and my post-breakup-hormonal/emotional shits really are.
Today I spoke to this pretty (really!) young lady who's about 3/4 years elder than me, pregnant at 33rd week with her first baby. While everyone else in the ward was happily anticipating/ holding their newborn, she's grieving for the death of her unborn first child. Yet when we casually approached her to find out what happened to her she still layan-ed us and answered all our questions. When she smiled there were tears in her eyes. Her eyes became so sparkly that it almost broke my heart.
I don't know about you but I call that TOUGH. And today this young lady inspired me. She could have turned us down and refuse to answer our questions so that she could stop thinking about her lost baby for at least one second. But she didn't. She chose to face it - and that, is something I must learn...
In these 2 months I've also started walking in and out of the hospital on a daily basis. How does it feel you ask me? Yes of course with the white coat and the stethoscope I do get that "ah, I'm gonna be a doctor" feel. Sometimes it hit me a bit too hard I started to panic; if the patient is cooperative you feel good and thankful because someone's willing to trust you despite being only a medical student. As cliche as it may sound, sometimes you feel so... insignificant because there's too little that you know of/ can do to help those sick patients. But most of the time when I see a sick person lying on the bed, energy deprived and hunger for air at the same time, he had to gather all the left energy he has to gasp for air, I came to realize how tiny and stupid I and my post-breakup-hormonal/emotional shits really are.
Today I spoke to this pretty (really!) young lady who's about 3/4 years elder than me, pregnant at 33rd week with her first baby. While everyone else in the ward was happily anticipating/ holding their newborn, she's grieving for the death of her unborn first child. Yet when we casually approached her to find out what happened to her she still layan-ed us and answered all our questions. When she smiled there were tears in her eyes. Her eyes became so sparkly that it almost broke my heart.
I don't know about you but I call that TOUGH. And today this young lady inspired me. She could have turned us down and refuse to answer our questions so that she could stop thinking about her lost baby for at least one second. But she didn't. She chose to face it - and that, is something I must learn...
... On the side note, as for now... I’m not healed, but I’m not wounded. I don’t know if it’s possible to be healed. There is a scar, for sure. I bury it under layers of facade to ensure it’s not exposed to the naked eye. Scars are ugly.
However recently, I feel that maybe I’m ready to recollect my heart. That maybe I can return that world.
Maybe.
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