Young Blood By: Chelsea Angeli R. del Castillo Philippine Daily Inquirer <\/p>\n
Medical school is not the place for smart people. <\/p>\n<\/p>\n
If I am really smart, then Ill get out of the university and start living my life. Like what most of my college friends are doing, Ill probably start making a career and providing for myself. If I am really smart, I wont spend another four years in a university, be in so intimate a relationship with my books, and endure sleepless nights. Stress involving reports, group discussions, and case studies should be out of my vocabulary. My definition of fun and happy should be being with my family, pampering myself, or traveling the world, NOT being dismissed from classes early, acing the examinations, or completing reports with flying colors. <\/p>\n<\/p>\n
My first weeks in medical school straightened my crooked conviction that intelligence and perseverance combined with enough funds would be sufficient for me to realize my dream of wearing a white coat. Like a hammer blow on the head, getting a chance to experience what medical school is like awakened me to the more grueling realities that take place between admission and board examination. My determination was challenged more than ever, and my lifestyle was changed dramatically right before my eyes: waking up early to beat the clock, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thinking that stress has made me look 10 years older, skipping meals either because I wanted to or I had to, waiting for the redemption bell, going home while thinking of the piles of things that I had to study, wishing that tomorrow would be a holiday, setting my alarm clock, dream, dream, dream, being jolted awake by the much-dreaded alarm, and letting it snooze until I get the courage to face reality <\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Sometimes, a voice within asks if this is really the life that I intend to live for another four years. Lots of times, thoughts of quitting lure me. My family will certainly understand if I will no longer pursue my studies, I often tell myself. But whenever ideas like these pop up in my boggled mind, what feeds my desire to try harder is the litany of interrogations coming from within. Questions of whether I can understand and forgive myself for giving up just like that awaken my slumbering determination. The things that I have seen, the people that I have been with, and the experiences that I have lived through during my premed years as a nursing student have inspired me to be this tenacious. <\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Those times, I witnessed how a patient stared at the door while silently waiting for someone whod visit him during the most painful hours of his life. How a sweet smile, how a simple act of concern, and how a genuine caring touch could lighten the face of an old woman on her deathbed. Those times, I listened to the hopes of people living in far-flung communities to see a doctor even just once in their lives. I shared their smiles and tears. I felt their struggles and pains. I heard their silent prayers. People like them have inspired me to study harder, so that someday, while Im on my mission to relieve often and to comfort always, I can also be capable of healing sometimes. It is for them that I dream of being a doctor and they are what make it so difficult to let go. <\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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