I am past half of my studies in medicine. A lot has changed since my first day. Physically, some, but more so mentally, or perhaps spiritually. I still remember hearing the sirens blare, getting startled, but soon realizing that such has become my life. I had struggled to keep up with the rigor of the academics, while trying desperately to hold onto myself. The busyness has settled down as I have started clinical rotations. I have seen patients and how they were treated.
Perhaps it was the folktales of miraculous healing that had formed my ideas on being a doctor. Reality was none like it. Being a doctor was just being a scientist. There was nothing magical about medicine. It was nothing about life-giving, only perhaps prolonging.
All my life, I have struggled with weakness, the human frailty. By becoming a doctor, I had thought I would be allowed to become more, fill the void of being human, correct the brokenness of mankind. It was still the grace of God.
I remember my friend telling me that the hospital building is no different than the tower of Babel. I quickly caught onto the idea as well. Though it may not be completely out of God's will, but it was war nonetheless. People struggled to hold onto life, trying to figure out the answer to death, while the hand of God constantly reaches out to let people know that He is the only salvation to death.
The job of being a doctor was no different than any other occupation. We are still dependent fully on the Lord. Only through Him shall we ever see life seep in the doors of a hospital.
No comments:
Post a Comment