Boon'a Anatomy
Musings of a Doctor-Wanna-beI could have been a doctor. No, serious, I really could have become one.
Yes, I did share previously that God probably had His purpose in mind to keep me from being a doctor because He knew I was too emotional a person to deal with matters of life and death in my hands.
I set my heart on becoming a doctor when I was in secondary school. I worked my socks off to get into the top two classes in secondary three because those were the only two that offered Biology.
You see, I wanted to take Biology because I had really wanted to be a doctor at the age of fifteen.
So I studied. I memorised all the parts of a cell, understood and at one point, I swear I could even draw the cross-section of a human heart for you if you had asked me to – from the aorta, to the pericardium, to the left and right ventricle. I understood how the nerve system worked and for all the ladies out there, I wouldn’t dare boast about knowing the female menstrual cycle more than you do. But I do know a little.
So there I was, well prepped on my way to realising my dream of being a doctor.
E.R. was the rage at that time – I devoured the show like how Cookie Monster would do to a cookie, or with anything else. I didn’t care too much about George Clooney though I realised E.R. topped the audience ratings probably because of him.
I was caught up with all the medical drama in the hospital. Then there were some locally copied versions of E.R. on Mediacorp Channel 8 as well, starring Edmund Chen if I recalled clearly. I devoured that show too.
I really wanted to be involved in a hospital, with all the doctors rushing in and out of rooms to attend to patients, with nurses en tour. Then the alarm sounds and an ambulance arrives with an injured man involved in a hit-and-run accident and I would have to rush to wheel him into the operating theatre, mouthing out all the medical acronyms – “give him an E.F.G. followed by a C.P.E…and what have you”. Of course, other than CPE, I don’t really know the rest but it just sounds cool hearing that coming out of your mouth.
Life would have been so incredibly exciting, and not to mention that saving lives is an incredibly noble task.
Yet, here I am. I’m not a doctor. In fact, after nicking that A from Biology in my ‘O’-levels, I swore to myself never to touch a biology text again.
Well, to be honest, at that point in time, I just got sick of Biology. Because that subject was nothing more than regurgitation of facts that I pumped into my grey matter, i.e. my brain, and then vomit them all out onto the exam papers.
The prospect of cramming more facts and biological terms into my exploding cranium just doesn’t seem the most exciting to a 17-year-old-hormone-raging boy, who was more eager to get out of a single-gender school and step into “a whole new world” of studying in a co-ed environment.
Of course, wearing green ugly pants for the first three months of junior college didn’t exactly help.
Moving right along, as I was saying, I chose not to continue with Biology into my ‘A’-levels, so that I could avoid cramming more facts, memorising more s***.
I wondered if it was a wrong move. Watching Grey’s Anatomy really puts that buzz back in me again about being a doctor. Just as the buzz I once felt when I was watching E.R. years ago.
Of course, Grey’s is probably more down-to-earth and realistic than that “every doctor looks so handsome or pretty” serial years ago.
And I do get a glimpse of the tremendous stress, responsibilities, sleep depravation, fatigue, lack of a social life and all the other ugly stuff that doctors have to deal with.
But one thing made me realise more than anything else what being a doctor means. It doesn’t simply mean poking your stethoscope onto different parts of your body and hearing the breathing patterns, scribbling some indiscernible prescription, and then dismissing the patient with a “don’t worry, you’ll get well soon”.
It goes beyond saving lives. It means taking responsibility for a life. Many lives in fact. On a daily basis.
It’s having to deal with someone shouting and screaming the words “You killed my daughter,” at you. Or a team of nurses waiting for you to make a split-second decision to pull the life-support machine or not. Or having to say the words "We've tried our best..." to a family waiting with anguish and fear in their swollen eyes. Or simply hearing your own conscience remind you once in a while - that you screwed up.
Or perhaps you have done your utmost and you still can’t save that person’s life when you know deep down in your heart that nobody or nothing else actually could. Yet you still blame yourself for it and tears well up when you have to make the call on the time of death.
Of course, as with failures and sad moments, there will always be victories and sweet memories. As a doctor, you share in the joy of witnessing the birth of newborns. You become a part of the family as you see your patients get better by the day. You feel awesome that God has put you in this position to make the world a better place.
It’s a very peculiar place – the hospital. It’s where we usher life into this world, and also the place where we witness the final drag of life of some of our loved ones.
I’m thankful for all the doctors that God blessed to be doctors. I’m just glad I didn’t become one.
I don’t think I have the guts to be one.
posted by weiwen @ 10:02 AM
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