WOVEN

I lost another friend recently. Life in the ward can be mind-blowingly depressing. Speaking to her siblings with tears streaming down their faces, I tried my best to detach the emotions and finish the paperwork that had to be done.

It’s getting easier to stop the tears.

But is that what I really want? No.

I recognize the possibility of being jaded, to be numb to the emotions that stir so vehemently within the confines of these walls.

Sometimes I wonder how Fats can be so nonchalant to the needs of those under her care. But I am not Fats. And I thank God for the inherent difference.

Not only in size, but also in hygiene. Wahahaa.. ok, I’m digressing, but I do pray I will never be like her. I don’t wish to be so stone hearted and forget that people do have feelings and that the things I do actually matter.

On the basis of a positive feedback mechanism, it feels good to be appreciated. Knowing the things I do actually make a difference in people’s life. It doesn’t matter if they pen it down on paper or give me tokens. It’s the heartfelt handshake and the sincerity in the eyes that impact the most.

Even Pokka tea carries sentimental value.

Knowing people care enough to do what they do. Thank you Lord. For a tight F4, for a preceptor that has become a permanent fixture, for Ah Chow's words of kindness, for compliments, for lessons learnt and experiences earned.

For an opportunity on the upcomming 28th May.

People come and people go. Long after they leave, I still find myself thinking about them. Hopefully, when I lie in death’s embrace, I will be surrounded by people that love me for who I am and what I’ve done, rather then alone.

But perhaps just a nurse who will hold my hand and sing to me would suffice.