The Dew That Keeps Me Going

Salam..

Recently, career and job have been subjectively stressing and objectively draining my mental capacity to function.. Nonetheless, the train of life speeds through the dimension of living and, without a doubt, will leave whoever is dozing.. I, for instance, hate to be left dangling at the platform, not knowing what had passed me by.. To that effect, I had been immersing my day life with all the jobs and chores so that my days would be effectively and professionally filled..

So was all my other colleagues, ever so dedicated with our professional undertakings, like bees hounding a fresh morning nectar-rich flower.. Alas, all the pressure of career has made me emotionally blunt, at least during the eight-hour or so of period I am in the hospital.. Shameful to say, that maybe to the extend seeing a patient as a box of mind-challenging pathology questions and less as a person needing help..

Reminder

A quick attempt for lunch break was the turning point of the day and more so as a reminder of the truthful reason of ambition..

As I walked and queued for my vegetarian ciabbata and hot chocolate, I was approached by pleasant man, nicely dressed, probably sitting at the coffee dock with his own cup of latte.. I was caught off guard.. The face was familiar, the voice was recognisable, yet I could not place the man anywhere that I have met him before.. Of course, I felt bad.. And it did not stop there..

"Thank you, doctor, for taking good care of my wife.. She has died since.. But I never had the chance to thank you personally.. Thank you, doctor, so much.."

His hand grabbed mine, his grip firm, honest and pure.. He shook my hand and went back to sit with his latte, with another thank you whisper before releasing my hand..

I smiled and grabbed my sandwich, headed towards the Doctors' Res.. My initial plan for the early bite was overtaken by a shiver of emotion, a mixture of honoured accomplishment and undeserved gratitude.. As soon as I reached the couch in the Res, even with the sandwich in my hands, I could not stop thinking about the gratitude note I received a few minutes ago..

I picked up my mobile phone, dialed a number so familiar to me and worked my way through to Andrea.. Her lovely voiced greeted me and I asked for a favour.. Andrea is like my Penelope Garcia statistical analyst for the day.. In less than a minute, it all became clear..

The man at the coffee dock who thanked me was the husband of a previous patient of mine, recently deceased.. Interestingly, I had looked after her wife previously and had met the husband in several occasions with their daughter.. And the man so composed to walk up to me, despite that what he did might have reminded him of his late wife, thanked me for my deeds, only to face me who had the faintest idea of who he and her family were..

Maybe that was why I was so shook, that I had to find out who he was, who his family were..

Maybe that feeling of being honoured for the job I do is the nectar of this career, the one drop of spirit that keeps us all going and striving in the pathway.. Maybe, it is also Allah's way to remind me why I wanted to be a doctor - to help the unwell..

I am reminded.. Thank you for the gentleman at the coffee dock.. Thank you for reminding me of why I was there by your family's side, for reminding me why I am still here..

Salam..