Divided

Last night was about fireworks painting the sky, a rock band on the stage and thousands of tourists and locals on the beach. I was sitting absentmindedly on the sand just like everyone else, occasionally suppressing a curse when some people who seem to have no common sense keep standing and blocking our view of the concert. Geez, can’t they feel the burning stares of people behind them. Another injustice and I could no longer bite my tongue—-a group of local teenagers who just arrived at the scene did the same thing and I took the liberty of calling their attention to sit down.

Boracay is not so fun after all.

Not when you’re working I guess or not if you  have the kind of work that does not end at 5pm.

Like mine—24/7 doctor-on-call.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Some of my friends think that it’s so fab to be a doctor in this island.

Not really.

Imagine the frustration of having to retreat back to the clinic because I got a text message that a patient has come for consult just when I’m all ready there at the perfect spot to watch the sun go down and in the end I have to miss it. It’s disappointing  because it’s the only time of the day that I can escape to the beach front. I can only shake my head. Work here means suppressing a groan when the phone rings at 1am because some foreigner is having diarrhea in his hotel room and you have to go there before he becomes dehydrated.

While watching the concert, I was constantly glancing at my phone and crossing my fingers—please no house calls tonight.

My mind will always be divided. I can no longer live with just a singular thought.

So this is what it’s like when you have a license.While the band 6 cycle mind drowned all the whispers and conversations around me, my thoughts were stealing the spotlight  and it was about the individuals I saw and treated at the clinic. I think a lot of my patients— from the patient I saw 2 weeks ago to the patients I saw this morning. It gets intense sometimes —thoughts overlapping, doubts consuming and frustrations building up.

The fragility of life makes this vocation sacred. I am human though, as much as I want to be perfect for my patients. I try my best to treat lives as tenderly as I can.After all, I’m  like them—just human.

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