C’est la vie

This is a really difficult topic for me to write about. It’s actually about my work, my motivations, my drive in life. It’s also another long rambly post, so take a seat, grab a drink, and read away.

one of those days

As I go through the daily grind, I am often bogged down by feelings of inadequacy and incompetence. I love what I’m doing right now, and yet I can’t help but feel insecure. Will I be able to do it? Am I even capable of making through this? What if I screw up? Am I really doing my best right now? These questions keep racing through my mind, wrecking havoc on my soul.

I’m scared. Absolutely terrified.

And yet– I can’t be. I can’t quiver in fear. I can only move forward and struggle through every new challenge that is thrown towards me. Every day is a chance to be better. Every day is an opportunity to learn. So I tell myself.

I highly doubt I will ever lose these feelings of incompetence and stupidity. I can only build up the courage to face each day despite them. So here’s to staying steady through each day, with or without tears. But definitely with God’s grace and mercy.

losing you

Losing them was devastating. When the first passed away, I was already in shock, and ready for the day to be over just to cry at home. When the second baby passed away, it was too much for me. My eyes were brimming with tears, and I was so close to crying. My colleagues kept telling me to stay calm, that death happens, and that if I cried, I would never stop crying for every child that passed away.

But how could I not feel overbearing grief? I never expected them to go so soon. Not when they were just fine one or two hours before. I even waved and spoke to their parents, asking if they were alright or not. “Yes Doctor, he’s okay!”

An hour or so later, they lie in my arms, breathless, lifeless. Not okay.

The smallest coffins are truly the heaviest.

I keep thinking, “Is there anything I could have done? Is there anything else that would have changed if I had done something else?” And yet, even as I mulled over it, I couldn’t think of anything that would have shifted the spectrum.

Their deaths were just too sudden. The staggering enormity of it took hold of me and I felt drained the whole day. Tired, aching, sad.

I struggled.

And yet, I have to move on, to have courage to keep moving forward. I need to get better for other children who need me. I need to be stronger, to work harder, to strive— Just to be the best doctor I can for the little ones.

God loves you more my dears. And I know that the Angels are singing as they carry you through the Pearly Gates. You are loved. In life, in death.

Watch over us from above, little angels.

 

Never Stop Fighting

Venturing into a new place is never easy. There are lots of uncertainties abound. You don’t know anybody there, you don’t know how to get around. You’re alone, despite being surrounded by people. That’s just the way it is, till you’ve settled down more securely.

I’m still trying to settle down, I’m still trying to find my way— I’m often lost in my own world, searching for a way out of this fog. It is extremely difficult, what with having thrown into a tense place. One with lots of sadness and frustration shimmering in the air, of dissatisfaction and anger. Not many are happy here, and it fills the atmosphere with a murkiness that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

“Don’t trust anyone.”

Despair fills me with those words. Why? Why is everyone so caught up in this cycle of fear and sorrow?

It is truly a difficult time for me to cope and manage in this place.

And yet—

There is unbridled joy, joy at finally doing what I’ve always wanted to do. This happiness bubbles out of me at the end of a long tiring day. I may have been shouted at, belittled, and talked down upon— I may have been out of my wits end, faced with new problems and issues— But at the end of the day, at night, when I’m lying in my bed, I feel so much happiness at being able to do the things that I’ve always envisioned doing.

That I’m able to care and try my best for the kids, the little ones. It fills me with such pleasure and satisfaction. It is truly something I do not want to lose. (On the days that I may lose someone, this joy might fade to the distance but I hope it doesn’t disappear.)

They told me, “Don’t stop loving Paediatrics because of this place.” And I really really hope I never lose this joy. The work is hard, it really is— Nothing is ever easy in life, nothing comes without a bit of suffering. Still, I never want to be deprived of the contentment in doing this work.

To the future me,

I do pray that despite the obstacles that you will face, the hurt that you will encounter, and the unjustness of things that may unravel, that you will continue to stay strong and to fight.

May you never lose your love for Paediatrics.

Love, Nicole.

P/S: Ending this with a poem that I found online.