It has to date back to the double tenth last week. I took shifts on the holiday and kept working all the day. After finishing my newly started Korean program at Konkuan, I hopped on the bus towards home.
Weekends ended, I came back, and another week started. I got three shifts this week. Monday: work, and Korean. Tuesday, work in the operation room, and I had a ten-minute-dinner before my shift. started.
I was like being chased by a time-sqeezing monster. I tried to get loads of work done neatly as soon as I could. But the most tricky point was, while lying on the bed in the duty room after all the work done, I had no drive to move on at all. Everything seemed meaningless, even though I was aware of those duties.
Then I studied till 2 o'clock in the morning. I was paged at 6 o'clock. I set a Port-A and reimplanted a nasalgastric tube, taking me about half hour. I went back to the duty room and tried to get some sleep before morning meeting. My PHS ringed again. It was the same patient at 9th floor and she needed an arterial blood gas test this time. So I jumped up from bed and hurried to the station. This time, however, she was brought to the treating room. There were already many nurses and a resident doctor in there.
This meant, something was wrong. I remembered she was just lying there at that time when I put the needle into her Port-A site over her shoulder.......At that time, her mother talked to me about her worries and anxieties while I was just awaken... She was the friendly kind of person I admire.......
But there she was, without vital signs, nor heart waves.... Her family cried without making much noise....
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Two days later, on my shift again, I was paged for running an EKG in SICU. She was an old lady who just got her bladder and probably her uterine and ovaries, if I didn't remembered it wrong. She was somewhat anxious and making noise with her right hand tightened by pounding the handrail. People in intensive care center used to do this quite often. I believed they did this to draw attention due to unfamilialarity and fear, of course, and pain.
I tried to ask her about her discomfort. Due to her intubation, she couldn't talk. I could only guess her problem and explain to her even what she asked was alwasys the same thing. People did this all the time and they fought for the same thing.
~~
I was kind of lost, not knowing what should I feel and response.
Seeing these two people disappearing in front of me, even they were able to express their feelings not long ago, they were just gone.
I was confused for being involved in their last part of life.
I was also scared when thinking of the same inevitable destiny happened to me, holding the last breath and trying to memorize the last scene the world displayed in front of me. Was I on the bed with a ventilator? Was I intubated and incapable of speaking? Was there going to be full dark or white light? Was there enough time to say goodbye? Did I still have the chance to apologize?
Nothing was certain or forever, except the fact of being perished. Working in hospital made me have previous sight of the end.
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This article was ought to discuss about my sorrow and love for debating. That's why the title meant.
I visited a senior last Friday and got depressed again on the way back to the dorm. Tears surrounded in my eyes on the bumping bus. I wanted to shout out loud and scream to the darkness outside the window. I whised I could have another chance to choose.
I tried to fight, but I fell all the time. Getting my legs stood up and failed as always.
I hve been so imperfect, not good enough as I wished to become. Not the person I wanted to be. That me lived in another world, walking elegantly and having a life with favorite things.
Aren't we all the same?
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