To the med student who held my hand and cleaned my wound, how long since you had a solid eight hours-worth of sleep? I could see it's been a while. The dark circles under your eyes betray your fatigue. And yet you managed to keep your wits about you as you tend to the blood and cuts and cries of agony of the patients streaming into the emergency room. You can't afford to rest even for just a while: You and a couple of your fellow interns, under the command of a single physician, were all that made up the skeleton crew of this public hospital's Surgery section.
Have you had a decent meal yet? I wouldn't be surpised if that sloppy burger I saw you hurriedly buy from the fastfood joint across the hospital was your lunch and dinner combined. And yet you handled well that bloodied but mulish drunken old man who kept resisting and pushing you away as you tried to patch up the cut on his forehead. He kept standing from the plastic chair you're operating him on and I saw you struggle to let him make you apply medication and the gauze. After you're done with him and you're barely seated came more patients--men and women and a little girl--all covered in blood, one of them throwing up on the hospital's floor, and the kid crying from the pain of the huge gash at the back of her left thigh. Meanwhile, more victims of vehicular mishaps, cuts, concussions, and all kinds of injuries made their way to your section incessantly. So much for dinner.
To the med student who held my hand and cleaned my wound, pardon me for my (and my companions') whining and inconsiderate actions that night. While I was fuming after a couple of hours of not being taken care of since I arrived at the emergency room with mere scratches, a small wound, bruises here and there, I finally understood that there were more who needed your attention--broken bones, blood splayed everywhere, and even deliriousness. Watching you deal with them one by one, not once did I see you heave an exasperated sigh, nor heard you raise your voice when a particularly hardheaded patient kept refusing the medication he was being given.
It was the first time I get to be treated in that hospital and as I understood how things went in such a place, I sat quietly with and waited for my turn, half-expecting to be told to just go home since my injury seemed inconsequential. (Although I have to admit I was feeling faint probably both from the shock from the accident itself and the situation inside that emergency room.) I was therefore surpised that you took the trouble to come over to my seat bringing a iodinated cotton swab and a gauze to clean and cover my wounded forearm with. And looking at you as you bent your head to treat my wound, I wondered if amid all that went on you ever felt quitting, or if you desperately wanted to leave such a forlorn public hospital, or if you can't wait to leave this country altogether and practice medicine in a more rewarding place.
To the med student who held my hand and cleaned my wound, I watched you, in your white uniform with your broad back and a mess of black hair, perform your duty behind the big bellied kind-faced doctor. I don't even know your name and I now find myself wondering where you'd be in a couple of years, whether you'd stay to serve your fellow Filipinos or go where the pasture greener as they say, and whether you'd choose to practice privately and enjoy its comforts or take command of a Surgery section of another bustling and despondent public hospital such as the one I had the chance to see you at.
-------
Yes, I got a minor injury from a minor road accident some days ago, causing me to miss work, giving me bruises on my arms and legs, and causing right hand to be put in a splint and be immovable for a few days. Other than those, I was thankfully okay.
No comments :
Post a Comment