The Introduction.
Faux Cap, Southern Madagascar
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When Puppydoc first arrived at her new home,
the villagers were a tad bashful…
…but this issue resolved itself rather quickly.
😀
Faux Cap, Southern Madagascar
•
When Puppydoc first arrived at her new home,
the villagers were a tad bashful…
…but this issue resolved itself rather quickly.
😀
I see it all around me.
Burnout. To be burnt.
When we simply stop caring.
Most of the time we don’t even need
to say anything. But you know.
You hear it in our voice.
You see it in our eyes.
And you feel it too.
You know what
is going through our
mind with each wayward glance.
Is this what I signed up for?
Is this all this profession has to offer?
Because I have seen the articles.
To prevent physician burnout.
The A-B-C’s.
Changes we must make.
Limiting expectations.
Self-empowerment.
Decreased hours.
Putting us first.
I too used to be desperate.
What is happening to me?
What is happening to my colleagues?
What is happening to medicine?
But then one day, I saw you.
You.
Not you the patient.
You the person.
You’re just
a person.
You are me.
And you are hurting.
And maybe I am too, although
you may never know.
So I thank you for being here.
Not only do I want you to know that
I honor the privilege of being able to
help you, but you should know that
you have in your own way
taken care of me.
And I do care for you.
•
Libanona Beach
Fort Dauphin, Madagascar
•
While studying in the southern region,
these nine boys never failed to keep
Puppydoc company as she walked to work.
🙂
Cochabamba, Bolivia
Every week, over fifty street children would line up at the city plaza
for the ‘Kid Washing’…where we would bathe, clothe, and
feed them. The girls would then get pretty braids.
🙂
Dear Diary,
What do I write about when I have nothing to write about?
When my lips have nothing to say?
Do I paint for you portraits
of hollow chimes adrift
in dew whose songs
mesmerize with
each sway of
the wind’s
caress?
Do I liken you to a single rose
who has but endured a
winter’s wrath to
weave a quilt
of fragrant
hues?
Or do I reflect upon my life as it is,
to tell you how much I treasure
the privilege of being able to
help you, to care for
you, whenever
you are
ill?
Do I try to express how tremendous my
heart feels when I tell you that it is
going to be alright, or when we
know that it may not, that
we will conquer it
together?
Do I admit to you that whenever you
smile, my day is brightened,
my heart is warmed,
and that when you
weep, my soul
tears with
you?
And do I tell you how much I appreciate you-
your presence, your courage- as you
battle through your illnesses,
uncertainties, and fears-
while reminding you
that you are an
inspiration
to me?
So what do I do when my lips can find no words?
I suppose I let the heart speak.
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