I am torn…
I’m torn at the moment.
I cannot decide what to do.
Let me elaborate…
I have begun my internship
(finally, after all those years…) at PGH this June. My nerves got to me at
first (well, they actually still do). I was very nervous and excited, as this
would essentially be a test of what I’ve learned in school all those years. It
would be like several months of everyday laboratory exams (I cannot even begin
to describe the “sir EJ factor” or the “ma’am Joan factor” that I’ve always felt
whenever I set foot inside the PT laboratory room during our exams).
Good thing the very first patient
assigned to me was very cooperative. We had fun during our sessions even when I
constantly teased him that our next session would be harder than the last. He
would always reply, “gusto ko nga ng
ganon e, para makauwi na ako. Mas mahirap, mas maganda…” True to my word, I’d
really give him a hard time the next day. He would sometimes complain about the
difficulty of the exercises that I ask him to do but he completes them anyway. A
week after we started out treatment, he was discharged from the hospital. I
cannot honestly say that I was happy about it. Yes, I was happy for him because
that was what he wanted. I was a bit saddened, though, because I knew that
there was more that I could do to make him better. We have begun ambulation
without an assistive device that Friday. I would’ve wanted him to go home
walking as near normal as possible. I wanted to increase his endurance, improve
his balance. Instead, he was sent home with the order of using a walker to aid
him during ambulation. What’s more, he was discharged on a day that I was not
in the hospital (due to the Independence day) so I wasn’t able to give him a
copy of the exercises that we do in the clinic and some other exercises that he
could do when he gets all better. I was very frustrated about that. I have
neither his contact number nor address. I would willingly send him a copy of
the exercises if only I knew. I sorely miss him yet I’m happy he’s back home.
Some
of my co-interns wonder why I look so jolly when I see my patients, even when
just before seeing them, it seems like the end of the world to me. It’s very
simple, actually. These people are already saddened by the current state of
their lives. How would they react if I add all my misery to theirs? I laugh, I
smile when I’m with them so I would also see them laugh. See, I have this thing
about making people happy (but that’s another story). I want to take off their
burden even for just a few minutes while we’re together.
I remember
one treatment session that had such a great impact on me. I facilitated sitting
tolerance exercises to one of my patients. I felt so unfulfilled afterwards. I
had a hard time sleeping that night because I was thinking that what I did wasn’t
needed. It felt like I failed myself and my patient. It was a good thing that I
talked with my supervisor about it and he made me realize that I was actually
able to help the patient even if it seemed to me that I did not.
Do you see my problem now? I get
too attached. I inwardly cry when I see them in pain. I felt the burden of
grief when the skin graft operation of one of my patients was postponed because
of financial issues. I kept thinking that if I only had the money, I would be
very willing to shoulder their expenses. But I don’t, so I can only extend my
moral support.
Now, I’m torn between wanting to
help people (which is why I chose to be in the medical field in the first
place) and saving myself from so much pain. I know I can only handle so much. I
have my limits, as well. Pray that I don’t implode. I need a release, which is
why I write again.
