The Most Important Thing

This post has been sitting in my drafts folder for quite some time, and I have been thinking very well whether to post this or not, because I never want to give off some negative vibe in this new blog. And I never want to sound pathetic by ranting it all out here. I just realised that by writing about it, I'm doing myself a huge favour because it's like a little therapy, by keeping myself in control of how I'll be viewing it into something less negative.

Before I entered medical school, I was completely certain of my destination, but was never sure of the entire journey and the many extraordinary struggles it will bring into my life. I was definite that it will be hard, but not so definite that it will be harder than what I thought it would be. If there's one lesson med school has thought me in the first few weeks I was wallowing in its puddle of tribulation, it's that it will make you feel small to the extent that you feel like the tiniest organism out there in the jungle, clueless, feeble, and insubstantial. Like any time during the battle, there is a huge chance you can turn into tiny, little fragments, like particles of dust in air, completely purposeless, and easy to disregard. I was overwhelmed by the many changes that was happening. Sure that some people who aren't in the same world as you are in, are probably amazed of what you are doing or what you are up to, since they think it's all fancy, glory, and money in medicine; but in reality, it's not always like that. 

It's also in medicine that I've so far appreciated the song with the lyrics "I did my best, but I guess my best wasn't good enough", because it has been my anthem every time we have an exam, especially during practicals, in which I practically suck. It is only in post graduate school I learned to alter my Maslow's hierarchy of physiological needs, in which I kind of put studying first before anything else - sleep in most particular; safety also counts for some times that I risk studying late nights outside, only to combat sleepiness every time I try to pull an all-nighter for an exam; but food, honestly, was always my top priority - counting loads of coffee, instant, or fast food. And there are actually times that I abuse my body, in which I know is bad, because I resort to food when I'm stressed out or in pain.

Yes. It's painful. It's worse than hitting your leg on a corner of a table. It's painful because the pain is internal, and, sometimes, no amount of remedy is enough to stop the terrible, excruciating pain of seeing your dream's spotlight dim, crash in slow motion, and you try to piece it back together, even though it's still painful. There are also times I would feel alone, especially that I live quite far away from my family. I was right for the many sacrifices that I have to do before and during my stay, but I wasn't so right that I was ready for it. I know how easy to write about it here and say it before, but in all honesty, it was very difficult to do. 

I never thought that it is possible for me to bawl over a course or an exam, because I was never been like that during my undergrad years. But to tell you honestly and shamelessly, that I did. There were nights that I would literally cry myself out to sleep because a) I failed an exam in which I studied very hard, b) I miraculously passed an exam in which I didn't study well, c) I just miss home, especially my mom and her cooking, and the kids at home; but most especially I tear up when I get the thought of I may be disappointing my dad, and just wasting their efforts and money to send me to post grad school and become a doctor, or d) It could be all of the above, in one fragile, emotionally-unstable mind.  

I guess the thing they say about going through a wrath of storm and surviving it, you won't be the same person as you were before, is true. No matter how much we tell ourself and some people that we are still who we are before, we can't deny that experiences we had already shape us into someone who is possibly worse or better versions of us. And the next time the same storm comes in, we are most likely dressed and armed for it. 

I know it wasn't an excellent start in medical school, but my parents have always reminded me that there's always a room for better things to happen, so I have to make it happen. Probably one of the best lessons I've learned so far that no laboratory room, conference room, classroom, or any other rooms in school have offered, is persistence. Persistence because I always hold the power to control it. I have to always remember why started, and why I badly want this, because it started all from there, and it must end from there. I have to keep going, no matter how rocky the situations may be, I'll stick to my holy grail, and I will be best doctor that I can be.