More Like Christ

Because at the end of the day, isn't that really the point - that we grow in the midst of abundance and trials, joy and tribulations, to become more like Christ?

...

"Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up, does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 
Love never fails."
- 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8

Every time I re-read that passage in Corinthians, something else stands out and speaks directly to my spirit.
But.. knowing Papa, that shouldn't surprise me by now.

"For the Word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and the intents of the heart."
- Hebrews 4:12

..

The end of the year (not to mention annual leave) is always a time for reflection - to ponder on the year gone by, lessons learnt and those yet to be learnt, and to consider new resolutions for the coming year.

One of the big changes in my life this past year was being in a committed relationship.  Yes, there have been many moments of bliss, sunshine and magic, but perhaps the most rewarding experience in this has been the process of sanctification that Papa has been gently bringing me on. To learn to love the way He does - patiently, generously, selflessly and completely; to cheerfully give despite what I may or may not get in return; to forgive daily the way Papa does and to accept forgiveness too - these are lessons that I am still learning, but have felt so very enriched by.

I love that I serve a God who leads by example, a God who is Love and gives me such good instruction that I may truly flourish in His sight. I know I can be patient, because that's what Papa does for me every day as He waits for me to grow.

Freely I have received and now freely I must give.

"Search me, O God, and know my heart,
Try me and know my anxieties, 
And see if there is any wicked way within me,
And lead me in the way everlasting."
- Psalm 139:23-24

So shape me O Papa God I pray, mold my heart to be more like Yours. Teach me to deal with the naughties in my heart and to learn to live life the way You do - freely, and lightly. May I continue to lean in close and watch how You do it. I know there are days I will falter Daddy God, days where I will fail to reflect Your grace in every area of my life, but don't give up on me I pray. Don't stop speaking to me personally Papa, and I pray that these words would always, always be noticeably true in my life - Kau hadir di setiap langkahku. Thank You Papa for Your grace, for loving me so much that I am able to love others too, for growing me, teaching me, and for believing in me the way You do. How could I ever thank You enough. All this I pray in Jesus name, AMEN.

Strong Tower

KumilikMu - JPCC

Dalam kesesakanku Kau bri kedamaianMu

Dalam keraguan kutemukan wajahMu

Kar'na pengorbananMu Kau jadikanku baru

Sungguh kuterkagum amanku di dalamMu Yesus

Kau membuatku sesuai rencanaMu

Kau memegang stiap musim hidupku

Kuserahkan semua kekhuatiranku

KumilikMu

Semua kekuranganku Kau pun tahu

Tetap Kau pandang indah dalamMu

Kuangkat tanganku dan kuberseru

KumilikMu

Of Stepping Up and Overcoming Fear

My first patient for the day complained of pain where there were scar tissues on his internal organs. He had ‘severe pain’ but looked very comfortable when he didn't realise I was watching him. Some investigating later and it turns out he had been a very frequent flyer in our ED as of last month and had also been 'doctor shopping' - getting restricted medications prescribed to him by various new doctors. It soon became clear that he was only after one thing - more drug prescriptions.

In emergency, it's a norm to present most, if not all cases to our consultant in charge. Depending on the consultant who's on, they may or may not decide to see the patient with you too.

The consultant who was on with me that shift was one I had worked with many times before in the past and who I got along with quite well.

I was hoping he would stand up to this patient for me, you know, what with him being older and tougher-looking than little pipsqueak me and all.. but, he didn't. He listened to my story, taught me how to approach the situation sternly while remaining professional, and sent me to do the deed on my own.

I was fearful no doubt, but I took a deep breath and faced him to sternly say no.

And just like that, his pain was 'miraculously all better' and he left without too much of a fuss, even thanking me for looking after him.

...

Later that shift, my 7-week-old chubby baby boy of a patient needed to have his bloods taken. I was advised to try a heel prick first and massage it out if possible, but two attempts proved futile. Taking bloods from young babies is something I am still not very confident about - nothing says pressure like crying parents and a screaming baby.

My consultant held this screaming baby's hand for me and guided me to go for a tiny vein in his hand. One attempt - unsuccessful.

"Try again with a smaller needle."

Second attempt - unsuccessful.

By this time, I am ready to give up and let him take over but he looks at me and instructs me - "there's a vein higher up here. Feel it, and try again."

Did I mention PRESSURE is directly proportional to length of time spent doing deed and number of  failed attempts?

I feel it, calm myself, and try again. I have to move the needle a bit, but eventually I see the flashback of blood going into my needle, and manage to draw up all the blood I needed.

"You did a good job Candice," came the reassurance from my teacher.
I smiled with relief, and thanked him for his patience with me.

...

Yet another elderly woman comes in later who needed a surgery to save her leg, and she required bloods and a cannula in. She and her daughter-in-law warned me that her veins were very difficult and that I might have trouble with them.

"I hope you're good," they laughed.

"Ooh.. well I don't usually like to brag until after the deed is done," I joked.

I set up my tray, got into a good position and inserted the cannula in within a matter of seconds with no trouble.

"You got it in first go?? Oh wow, you're really good! You can come take my blood any time!" She laughed heartily and gratefully.

Relieved, I reassure her that I've seen my fair share of failures before being able to do them as well as I do now.

...

There's a saying in medicine - "see one, do one, teach one."

In reality for me it's more like see ten before you do, and do fifty before you dare to teach one.

As I packed up to leave for the day after my shift, I reflected on the day that had just gone. I thought of how fear will always be a companion, but that I no longer have the luxury of succumbing to it. Preparing to become a registrar is an insanely scary thing - to have to take on more responsibilities and be confident in not just doing but teaching as well.

But I keep pressing forwards with a hope, and a faith.. that one day, I'll learn those things too. And I'm hopeful too that this time next year there will be a new set of challenges that scare me while the ones that used to in the past become but a polished skill to keep under my wing. 

Here Today And Gone Tomorrow

"It doesn't get easier, does it?"

He looked at me with warm, misty eyes.
He understood, and his heart was grieving for this loss as well.

"No. No it doesn't."

...

Mr P always had the kindest eyes, and such a gentle spirit about him.

Ever since I went to review him that first evening many weeks ago now, he's remembered who I was. I can still imagine vividly him lying on the bed, his stockings pulled up to his knees and his nasal prongs (for oxygen) half taped up because one nostril was always blocked. I often felt compelled to stop for a little chat every time I walked past bed 4, and watch his face light up as he saw his unexpected visitor. "Thank you doctor," he'd always say gratefully even though all I did was talk to him for a bit.

Mr P didn't have good lungs. They were horribly scarred and he had been slowly deteriorating over time, finding it more and more difficult to simply breathe.

And then I stopped going to see him, because I got caught up with other jobs, other patients, and other responsibilities.

He eventually went home.

I came back from work last week after my week off, and found out he was back again, and that this time we were certain it would be his last ever hospital admission.

I debated for days whether or not I should go and say hello, in part feeling guilty for not having spoken to him more in my free time and walking past bed 4 hurriedly, in part not wanting to overstep my professional boundaries, and in part, once more.. caught up with other things to do.

I knew I had limited time though, and that if I didn't say something then, I might never get the chance to anymore.

Then two days ago, he complained of a slight blocked nose. In a circle full of present doctors, I volunteered first to be the one to review him.

"Hello Mr P, I haven't seen you in a while."

And with his same kind eyes, "Oh hello dear. Yes it's been a while, and yes, I remember you."

...

I walked past his room this evening and looked inside - he lay asleep peacefully in bed softly snoring, settled with the help of morphine and midazolam, and kept comfortable with his half-taped nasal prongs delivering supplemental oxygen.

If I'm being honest.. I was hopeful that I wouldn't have to do it.
I was hopeful that I'd get to hand over and walk out the hospital tonight without having to call a time of death.

But, as fate would have it, I found myself back in that room once again later tonight.. this time blinking back tears while looking at a body without a soul - the remnants of a life well lived.

...

Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for this, if I'm strong enough.

Like my colleague put it ever so honestly, it doesn't get easier. It doesn't get easier to look at a pale corpse and remember what it was like to interact with them hours or days ago.

It's not that I am unable to accept reality or that I wished my patients would live forever.. but there's always that pang of sadness that hits when death comes and leaves its gaping loss.

Once more I grieve, letting the healing process slowly begin again. But tonight I am blessed to have not been alone, to have seen it in the tear-stained eyes of my patient's faithful nurse - we're only human, and I know how you feel. 

...

Goodbye, Mr P. 

Heartstring Tugs

"I told you so."

...

Just as a child running back into the arms of the One who loves her most, so have I been these past couple of days. Yesterday morning I awoke and out of nowhere thought to take a long drive back to one of my favourite places on earth - Fort Nepean. 

It was a Papa and dice trip I so desperately needed. From the moment I decided to get dressed and pack to go, I was allowing the quiet tugs at my heartstrings to guide me. 

"No not there.. not where you've always gone. This time, I want to show you something different."

"What an adventurer You are Papa."

"I know. I am."

I disregarded that little beckon at first, but the turned back, eager to see where He would lead me. It took a bit of an uphill climb.. but it led me right there to that breathtaking view.

"There will come times where you feel all alone on this journey you're on, but know, that I am always with you. And I will guide your heart and your feet, and I will always know how to lead you to where you need to go. 

Come up higher. View the world from a vantage point. See how I see things."

And oh the overwhelming peace and furious love that overtook my heart then. 

You'd think I know by now how quickly Papa can move, the way He soothes the raging seas and quiets my unsettled heart. It's signature. Over and over and over again in my lifetime, I have experienced in deeply personal ways how He would shadow me from the ache of life's uncertainties, patiently pep talk his fearful child and re-instil a courage - that my God is bigger still. 

My God is bigger still. 

...

"The Lord your God will fight for you. You need only to be still."

- Exodus 14:14

Glimpses of Love and Love Lost

I've encountered many elderly widows who were living at home alone throughout my short medical career. In the past two months in ED alone, I have had multiple memorable encounters that left me pondering life, thanking God for all that I have in the present as well as feeling very blessed to have had a kind stranger open up to me about something so close to their hearts.

...

"It's my wife's engagement ring," he said as he pointed to the ring he wore around his neck. 

"She asked me to take care of it when she couldn't anymore. We were married for over 50 years. She was a really good wife.. And now that I can't drive anymore, how will I go and see her? I like to go visit her, just to have a chat and all."

He broke out into heavy sobs.

"I loved her so much."

...

"I moved here from New York all those years ago when I was working as a model. Sold all my designer clothes and bought a plane ticket. And if I never did, I would never have met the handsome Australian man that was the love of my life.

Every morning I wake up and look at his photo and have a chat with him. "It's all your fault!," I'd say. "What did I do?" "Well you up and died and left me all alone, that's what you did!"

But, he was a good man, he really was. And I do miss him so."

...

With both her broken arms up in slings, she said to me, "I'd been married 57 years dear. Let me give you some advice dear. Never go to bed angry. What's it that they say? Never let the sun go down on your anger. Sure couples will disagree, but you need to always hug and make up. Promise me, you'll hug and make up. That is the secret to a happy marriage. 

When you meet the right person, you'll know."

I smiled at her and replied then, "I know." :)

...

She held on to my right hand tightly as tears streamed down her face.

"After he died, I started getting a lot of blood in my poo. The doctors put three clips in there and said it was a stress ulcer in my stomach, from all that grief.

He was a wonderful husband, and I've had 60 years of wonderful. I know that's more than many people get in their lifetime. Many couples nowadays break up, or stop loving each other, but I got to have him. 

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I still feel him waking up next to me."

Debrief: One Night in Emergency

My consultant spoke to me gently, "You know, in the grand scheme of things Candice, uraemia isn't such a bad way to die after all."

...

She had metastatic bowel cancer, and had come in for yet another episode of small bowel obstruction from the extent of her metastatic disease. This was further complicated by her worsening kidney function because both her kidneys were grossly swollen for the same reason.

I was surprised as I scanned through her previous medical notes to see that I had met her before last year when she was an inpatient - despite reading the medical summary I had written, I still could not put a face to the name. I had written then that her oncologist had advised her chemotherapy was failing and that further chemotherapy was unlikely to be beneficial.

But, she's a fighter, this woman. 

She insisted then that she wanted to press on with curative chemotherapy, and when I went to see her that night, insisted again that she wanted the kidney surgery it that's what it took to keep her going.

And when I brought up the issue of resuscitation with her, she repeatedly told me calmly - "I will leave it to the Lord. Let His will be done."

When I picked her up from the list of patients awaiting to be seen that night, I knew she was sick. She most certainly had a small bowel obstruction, and her bloods soon revealed that with her declining kidney function was a potassium level of 6.6mmol/L. This was a severe elevation that required immediate treatment, and further increases could well result in cardiac abnormalities and eventually a full blown cardiac arrest.

Her nurse and I got to work immediately. She needed an urgent ECG, intravenous insulin and dextrose to drop her potassium levels, oral contrast, an abdominal CT scan, intravenous albumin, intravenous pain relief, repeat urgent blood tests, a nasogastric tube, a chest XRay, discussion with her usual private specialists, cardiac monitoring, and a signed not-for-resuscitation form.

We managed to bring her potassium down to 5.5 mmol/L, but her blood sugar level came down with that as well to 3.3mmol/L. That needed to be treated with more dextrose, and then her potassium was noted to start climbing again - now 6.1mmol/L.

What we were doing then was simply putting band aid after band aid on an actively bleeding wound. She needed kidney surgery to improve her kidney function, and all the insulin and dextrose in the world was but a temporising measure to attempt to stabilise her. And at this stage, she was by no means a candidate for dialysis.

Her CT scan later revealed a large pelvic metastatic mass that was compressing on her bowels and her kidneys, causing her presentation today. I spoke to her usual private surgeon who accepted her for transfer across to a private hospital where she usually gets care from.

Still, I worried about sending her across to a private hospital late at night with such unstable potassium and sugar levels. So, at the advice of a colleague, I made the decision to call the covering ICU doctor in the private hospital who was aware of this patient being transferred across. I had the intention of updating her of present issues, but was informed instead that her usual team of doctors were planning to discuss withdrawal of treatment and end of life care with her come morning.

...

How do you tell a woman who has been fiercely fighting for so long, that this was going to be her last fight? 

...

Stepping back and looking at the whole picture, I knew as well that that was the best thing for her. Her disease had reached a stage where it was overwhelming and no amount of surgery or medicine could fix it. Palliative care was definitely a most rational decision, but after hours of fighting with her, the news came as a surprise.

A dire sense of inevitable helplessness washed over me as I considered her young age and how her time was about to run out. I felt deeply saddened for the fate of this woman and extremely defeated as a clinician.

I know that I am still so, so early in my career and will see many more cases like this in the future.
I know that I've known and treated her for a matter of just hours, whereas other doctors have been tirelesssly fighting with her for years and have gone to even greater measures to help her get just a bit more time.

And yet.. once more, the world simply continued to spin madly on. 

As Simple As Kindness

She was a "frequent flyer" in our ED, known to often present intoxicated after an alcohol binge.

The term "frequent flyer" is often responded to with a flurry of groans from ED doctors, what more when infamously coupled with "substance abuse". In the midst of busy days and sick patients, these patients are often labelled and stigmatised from the very moment they are triaged.  

I'd like to write that I was a doctor who was above that sort of petty judgment, and that I was one who always saw the best in people right away.. but if I were to be honest, I too often struggle to see beyond those triage descriptions. 

But that evening, as she lay on a bed drowsy from what she had been drinking and smelling so strongly of alcohol, I watched my boss respond to the situation differently. 

I watched my boss respond with kindness.

I stood by the door quietly and watched as my boss got down to her knees to be face to face with this woman. 

She spoke to her gently, reassuring her that she would be safe in hospital that night and that we would let her concerned partner know she was here. 

See, there's politeness, and then there's genuine kindness.

As I watched this scene before me in the midst of all the activity going on in this emergency department, I could tell that this was a genuine encounter, and that my boss looked at her and saw a person instead of just a label. 

Completely humbled, I stood amazed. Here I was, just starting out in my career yet already disenchanted by patients who come in with substance abuse, and here she was, years and years of experience yet still carrying a soft heart for these people who were broken and hurting. 

This woman will almost certainly never remember that encounter, and more than likely represent again one day for the same thing. 

But I know.. that kindness is never wasted. 

I believe in my heart that kindness is extremely powerful, and that God uses it to inflict change and influence the atmosphere. I believe that it reflects the love that God has for His people, and that we are being "just like our Father" when we demonstrate genuine kindness.

There's just something about kindness.. it's vulnerable, selfless, incredibly brave, surprising, and even rebellious as it rejects responding to an unfavourable circumstance with an earthly, natural, every-man-for-himself-in-a-dog-eat-dog-world perspective. 

So teach me Papa I pray, show me how You do it. Teach my heart to love others as You do and to see beyond a label on a screen and the sum of their choices in life. Change my perspective of others and grant me the courage to be bold and rebellious as I do things your way, and not mine. Remind me of the soul before me that I am privileged to encounter, and am empowered to bless. 

...

"Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, " Lord when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You a drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You? And the King will answer and say to them, "Assuredly I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.""

- Matthew 25:37-40

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so, some have unwittingly entertained angels."

- Hebrews 13:2

Soul Food

"Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."
- Romans 8:26-28 (MSG)

"Be still and know that I am God"
- Psalm 46:10

The World Spins Madly On

...

Someone passed away tonight.

I sat on my chair facing cubicle 6 where the curtain was slightly opened, and I could see her lying there, pale and lifeless. The lights were dimmed, and her husband was crouched by the side of the bed, sobbing.

She was even younger than my parents.

I thought of her kind, weary smile today when I told her that she did really well with us having to transport her across the hospital. I patted her arm, and I held on to the tubes which were helping her breathe.

I thought of the tears in her eyes today as she grew more and more exhausted.

I thought of how my eyes weren't the only red ones amongst our staff tonight.

And in that moment, I thought of how nothing else had changed outside that cubicle.
Nurses were running around caring for their other patients, computers kept beeping, the lights were bright and other people were still chatting away happily.

The world continued to spin madly on.

But one thing's for sure, for everyone who loved her and was left behind to live without her, nothing would ever be the same again.

Child Of God

Isn't it amazing.. that despite it all, He calls us redeemed? 

Beloved, child, fearfully and wonderfully made, Mine. 

"BEHOLD, what manner of love is this, that we should be called children of God."
- 1 John 3:1

All I Really Needed

Today wasn't a good day. 

I woke up feeling unwell and had errands to run. I had some stuff on my mind. I'm more emotional than usual. The embassy wouldn't let me collect my police check even though the half hour I spent on the phone with them a few days prior said to just show up. They told me the money order I got was unnecessary - thus making the $8.95 I paid to get it completely wasted. My parking ran out of time. I had to drive in the outer city area which was hugely confusing and I missed my turn about five times in a row because the instructions were not making sense to me, and I'm gonna have to do it all again in a few days time. I was late to my sister's place for babysitting. My niece wasn't very happy to see me either.

Today wasn't a good day. 

With every step that progressed today, I got more and more frustrated and I didn't know how to deal with it at all.

Finally, I lay on the bed next to Bailey as she fought the urge to fall asleep, yelling and crying with tears streaming down her poor little face. I decided to sing.

First it was a lullaby, which managed to stop the crying.

And then somehow, I found myself singing an old hymn - Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full on His wonderful face
And the things of the earth
Will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace

...

Verse after verse, I sang it over and over again, to her and to me.

And when I tried to change it to Ku Mau Cinta Yesus, she gave a whimper and started to cry again, but stopped as soon as I started again on Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus.

Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered Pastor Russell's message in church yesterday about turning to look at Jesus when we're struggling, and that the more we see Him, the more we become like Him. Be it fear, anger, insufficiency, worry, stress, sickness.. whatever it is, you just have to readjust your gaze, and focus on Him once more.

Tears continued to well as I remembered how Megan sang this over me a few years back when I was going through something else, and how powerfully it spoke to me then too.

I'm writing this now as baby girl is sound asleep in bed, feeling absolutely amazed by the peace upon us both right now after that simple reminder.

Turns out, all we really needed, was to turn our eyes upon Jesus, and let Him be the one to calm the storms within us.

Thank You Papa. :')

Life, Love, Loss

"If you live to a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to leave without you."
- Joan Powers, Pooh's Little Instruction Book

"If ever there comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever."
- A.A Milne, Winnie the Pooh

...

I scanned the area for my team, and decided to take the empty seat next to her.

At that point her welling tears were progressing into soft sobs. She looked at him and then me, and in her thick middle eastern accent whispered, "That's my best friend. Married for 44 years, six children. I don't know what I'm gonna do without him."

Every day, she's there by his side.
Every day, she's praying that he'll wake up, that the surgery will be successful, that she'll have one more day with him.

She shared with me her innocent love story of how they started out as neighbours when she was seven and he twelve, that they married nine years later and now have six children and seven grandchildren.

Between intermittent sobs, she told me of the life she built with her best friend and the memories she collected through the years that brought her to right here, right now - completely heartbroken in the intensive care unit.

I cannot even begin to imagine the fear that must have plagued her, the overwhelming terror that threatened to crush her and life as she knew it the very second she let her guard down.

She wiped her tears, warmly laughed off my polite refusal to date her successful son, and thanked me sincerely.

And then I excused myself, and I walked away from her pain.

...

And across the department from her, was another woman who had suffered a massive stroke whilst in hospital and was comatose.

In his buttoned down top, shorts and a walking stick, he would come by to visit her every day since she was admitted for other problems, faithfully telling us of the progress he thought she was making.

After this incident though, he stopped appearing. She would be surrounded by loving children, but he was nowhere to be found. I later overheard the nurses say that he did not want to come in for fear of facing the situation. Put simply, he was in denial, because the truth was much, much too painful to bear.

Many hours later late in the evening, in the midst of my other tasks, I watched this small, old man slowly walk down the hallway towards his wife. He caught my eye, and cheekily raised his walking stick at me, pretending to aim and shoot. Compliantly, I playfully raised my hands in surrender. He laughed softly to say that he missed.

Still, despite our momentary playful encounter, he simply could not hide the massive sorrow in his soul.

I watched him continue his slow walk towards her, thinking of how brave he was, and how life would never be the same again after he saw her that night.

...

There is this look I've come to recognise in the intensive care unit.

Sometimes when I walk down the hallway passing bed after bed, I see it in succession. Room after room, it's the same look that sits for extended lengths of time by the patient's bedside, a private gaze in a tiny space amidst complex, supportive medical equipment.

It is an expression painted on the faces of truly loved ones - a silent plead, a yearning hope, a desperate despair. 

Of Regrets and Second Chances

In the Intensive Care Unit - you see a lot of regret.

In the 8 days that I've spent here so far, I've seen much of it. 

There's the man who lamented that he wonders every day if he made the right choice with his divorce, the elderly lady with the poor lungs who wished she never picked up a cigarette in her life, the family members who would do anything for just a bit more time, and people who regretted not taking their medication as they should.. and even those who wake up intubated, disappointed to realise that their suicide attempts were not successful.

It's a sad place, and the very raw emotions at play give rise to  a unique spectrum of responses from people who finally notice that they have so much to lose.

...

"It's so horrible growing old and getting sick - you get so helpless," she said to me, the frustration in her voice evident as tears began to well in her eyes.
"And the worst part is I did this to myself."

She began to pour out her struggles about staying with her extended family whilst waiting to move to a nursing facility in a few months time. She expressed that she felt bad to be such a burden but that the fact of the matter was that her lungs were just not good anymore from years of smoking.

Feeling very helpless myself, I held on to her hand and listened, reassuring her when she apologised for wasting my time.

"Thank you, just by listening, you helped a lot."

...

To be honest, it's been a while since I've had one of these encounters with a patient, perhaps because of how junior I am in ICU that I don't do much of the talking, or how busy it gets that there isn't that time to linger and chat, or that many patients are intubated and non verbal.

I don't think I'll ever forget her though, and may she always be a reminder for me to stop for the patients who need a bit more care, and that a little can go a long way indeed.

Sunday Morning Reflections

Here's a powerful lesson I learnt recently.

You own your feelings, your feelings do not own you.

I hope this lesson remains true to me throughout this year - that even if I don't feel like putting on my running shoes and going out for a sweat, even if I want to throw a tantrum, even if I can't be bothered picking up a book to read, even if quiet time is difficult to achieve, even if my selfish desires get the better of me, even if I get patients who are difficult, demanding and ungrateful.. my feelings do not own me and I can be stronger than their dictations.

And from first reaching that victory in my mind, I can set off to live in the fullness of all that today has to offer.