Thursday, June 2, 2011

GROWING IN THE LAND OF INVASIVE PROCEDURE

When I was 5 years old, out of the gist, I told my mom someday I wanted to be a doctor. She smiled at me then and was supportive of what I just said. My cortical senses had urged me to say that due to the following reasons:


1. I was a hospital kid during that time. My mom would easily freak out when we have few symptoms of cough accompanied by fever. Just within 24 to less than 48 hours of persisting signs/symptoms, her very most option is HOSPITAL CONFINEMENT. Syringes and IV fluids scares the hell out of me. For a 5 year old kid, it is painful. Everytime I had to go in the hospital, I would already anticipate the procedure; skin test, finger pricking, IV fluids, meds, Urinalysis and before discharge--- the Penadur (I hate that the most because it was given on my upper gluteal area and its SO PAINFUL).


2. I want to get even with my former doctors and nurses who did that to me. Funny it is but as a kid, whenever someone does something wrong or hurt me in any way, whatever the reason is, my resolution was to retaliate. My mom would tell me then "No, you chose to be a doctor not to hurt other people but to save lives".  I stopped, caught off guard but yet accepted the best reason of what supposed to be my drive in entering the MEDICAL WORLD.


I grew up accepting the facts and the realities of being sick and how to get well in this way. Not until I started with my bachelor's degree and had a wider knowledge about how healing should take place.

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