To become the hands that heal

As an aspiring eye doctor, I routinely remind my patients to read with the most ample light possible. But it has become too often lately that I don’t practice what I preach.

Now, I’m cramming – with this huge pile of reviewers – in the dimness of this ICU (intensive care unit) room. My in-service exam is barely hours away; and in this same room lies my father who needs to catch sleep and be observed, amidst the bleeping sounds that his heart monitor makes every now and then.

He has suffered from a disabling heart attack; and tonight, I’m multitasking between watching over him and browsing books.

Gasping

I remember the night when he had his attack. I was on duty, and had to rush to another hospital to respond to the distress call from my mom.

Her trembling voice was so heart-breaking to hear; and witnessing my father at the ER bed gasping for breath was another dreadful ordeal. I maintained composure and promised myself to think clearly and emotionless as I helped the doctors and staff until he was stabilized.

When he was transferred to the hospital where I also train, I took a moment and fled to the parking lot. I didn’t want my family to see me crumble.

I realized then that it was so hard to be a doctor, and at the same time a son of a dying patient.

As he was put under observation at the ICU, I thanked the heavens that no one had any eye injury at the ER that I had to attend to. I didn’t know if I was still psychologically apt to perform my duties that time.

Why?

Many times I actually think it’s such a ridiculous idea that at this point in life, I’m still doing all these things: training and studying for an exam like a college student, considering that there are already many things to think of outside this longing for professional excellence; like having a day job, making money, and in this case, taking care of family, just like my non-medical high school friends do.

There’s actually a horde of us who go through these rather absurdities  to attain a degree in medicine.

A lot of us suffer fatigue for the long hours inside the operating room repairing the weakness of the human body, not minding missed meals and a general lack of sleep while their tenacity tested by bosses in a false sense of seniority. (READ: ‘They remember us’)

Many spend years here and overseas to be doctors, sacrificing their youth in return.

Most are single women who worry about the near-end of their child-bearing age. While pregnant colleagues continue to work and deal with the sick in spite real risks of exposing their unborn babies to infection. Even these babies may not see much of their parent-resident-on-duty as they are born and grow up. Then we grow older too and still continue to leech our parents for financial support.

All these done for learning, for theutmost understanding of standard medical care, and a desire for heroism in caring for the ill. (READ: To every angry patient I have ever met)

Chosen path

A few months from now, I would reach my third decade of existence on earth. But my generation has left me behind in this seemingly endless state of being a student.

But as funny as it may seem, I’m not laughing any bit. I’m taking this seriously; because this is the path that I’ve chosen after all. This is how a sword is forged to perfection. This is how a warrior is prepared for greater battle. In a few weeks time, my father’s chest will be cut open for a bypass procedure; and the hands that will literally touch his heart and control its every beat will be of those doctors with the best of its understanding – those who took countless years to learn and train for this kind of situation.

For a doctor who lacks competence has no right to tread with matters of life and death. A physician who slacked in training and medical practice endangers the lives of other people.

Those who can’t make sacrifices to help other people, those without a genuine desire to cure the ailing does not belong to this profession.

As Hippocrates had put it, I have sworn an oath to help the sick to the best of my judgement, and keep them from harm and injustice. And I will live upon this as long as the Almighty would allow me to do so.

So never mind if I’ve missed a lot of sleep and meals, and endured the darkness of the night browsing through these books in front of me.

Now I’ve taken every chance to bond with my father and do service to him whilst I study. These are very easy sacrifices to make. And I’m willing to sacrifice more not just for him but for a lot of other people who will need me when their lives cross harm’s way, or their gift of sight be compromised.

My alarm had started to tick in harmony with his heart monitor. It’s time to wake up though I haven’t slept at all. I just hope my usual dose of caffeine would prevent me from further day-dreaming during the course of my 4-hour examination. – Rappler.com

Dr. Alex U. Pisig, 32, is a graduate of the UST Faculty of Medicine and Surgery, and was an ophthalmology resident in Cardinal Santos Medical Center in Greenhills, San Juan City at the time of writing this article. His father’s surgery went well and is currently enjoying life like nothing bad happened.