I look back at my blog and find it surprised that I haven't written once since the end of last year. Then again when I look back, I see how busy and how spiritually dry I have become that it's not surprising at all. Just sad.
I did write a post after my time in Chiang Mai, when I visited a children's home. It was such a touching and humbling experience and definitely noteworthy. But after I came back I never found the time to post the entry. I am glad to say that now our church has started a child sponsorship programme so that now these children no longer go hungry but I have no part to play in this. It is God who did all this, not me.
Nonetheless, I have always looked to missions as my spiritual oasis and have never even thought to find it here in Singapore, let alone my workplace. Working in the intensive care unit has been just as intense for me as for the patients and their families, emotionally.In the ICU, each day is a battle, a battle for life.How do you let go when you see a young, healthy person die of a pneumonia? Even when you have tried everything possible to save them? How then do you try even harder when you see their young children crying outside the room because they will never see their mother or father again? You can't. It physically isn't possible. But I have to rely on the supernatural to give me strength. That at the end of the day, you can only do your best. God may heal them, or he may not. But in every life we come across, there is a lesson to be learnt.
In the ICU, my emotions have been pushed to the limits. I have felt the pain and sorrow of watching a family lose a loved one to the joy of watching a patient make a recovery and go home well. But the medical practice is more than just a mix of joy and sorrow. It is also interspersed with its moments of frustration, doubt and confusion. As doctors, we live to the rule of 'primum non nocere' but sometimes even when we have done our best for our patients and their families, there is little time left to grieve for the loss of a patient or rejoice in the satisfaction of successful treatment. There are times when we need to deal with the aftermath, pick up the pieces, deal with the complaints that come or accusations that we didn't try hard enough or gave up hope.
So how do you save a life? We may not always know how, but we sure put up one hell of a fight.
I did write a post after my time in Chiang Mai, when I visited a children's home. It was such a touching and humbling experience and definitely noteworthy. But after I came back I never found the time to post the entry. I am glad to say that now our church has started a child sponsorship programme so that now these children no longer go hungry but I have no part to play in this. It is God who did all this, not me.
Nonetheless, I have always looked to missions as my spiritual oasis and have never even thought to find it here in Singapore, let alone my workplace. Working in the intensive care unit has been just as intense for me as for the patients and their families, emotionally.In the ICU, each day is a battle, a battle for life.How do you let go when you see a young, healthy person die of a pneumonia? Even when you have tried everything possible to save them? How then do you try even harder when you see their young children crying outside the room because they will never see their mother or father again? You can't. It physically isn't possible. But I have to rely on the supernatural to give me strength. That at the end of the day, you can only do your best. God may heal them, or he may not. But in every life we come across, there is a lesson to be learnt.
In the ICU, my emotions have been pushed to the limits. I have felt the pain and sorrow of watching a family lose a loved one to the joy of watching a patient make a recovery and go home well. But the medical practice is more than just a mix of joy and sorrow. It is also interspersed with its moments of frustration, doubt and confusion. As doctors, we live to the rule of 'primum non nocere' but sometimes even when we have done our best for our patients and their families, there is little time left to grieve for the loss of a patient or rejoice in the satisfaction of successful treatment. There are times when we need to deal with the aftermath, pick up the pieces, deal with the complaints that come or accusations that we didn't try hard enough or gave up hope.
So how do you save a life? We may not always know how, but we sure put up one hell of a fight.
