Tag: prose

Confessions

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I am flawed. Those who have read some of my earlier scribbles have seen the somewhat self-critical lens through which I view myself. Despite this, a new year is just upon us, which, like every new day, offers a chance for us to adjust whatever it is we feel we need to adjust…whether it is our daily habits or our perspective on life.

Therefore, Puppydoc would like to share with you a few things about herself by presenting her three big goals for the New Year:

♥ To LIVE more.

Prioritizing her professional and academic endeavors over the past decade has somewhat come at a price for Puppydoc, who feels that she has missed out on life in general as well as many of the people in it. Therefore, she would like to do things differently this year by more fully treasuring what she already has…her dear family and friends…and by putting them first.

♥ To LAUGH more.

Medicine, while it has given her many precious memories, has formed in her a sort of a somber outlook on life, where all she sees is suffering around her. Coupled with an impression that she is rather powerless to really make a difference, she ends up bearing a lingering guilt for not being able to do more for others. For this, Puppydoc will take a dose of what has traditionally been considered the best medicine–laughter–and just try to loosen up a bit.

♥ To LOVE more.

For most of her life, Puppydoc has guarded her heart closely, almost afraid to feel…experience…embrace that nebulous realm called love. Fearing vulnerability, she has attached herself to the position of caregiver in both her professional and personal life, always caring for others while within remained a daydreaming girl aching to be cared for. But now is the time for her to start taking down the walls surrounding her. And who knows what may happen…

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Thank you, dear Liz, for prompting me to think about my goals and to write this post. You are an inspiration to all!

Wishing everyone a lovely week and a wonderful start to the New Year.

Love,
Puppydoc

A Lunch with a Gift.

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I had lunch with a homeless man.

But not just any man. An elderly man, a former high school teacher…and a former patient of mine from a charity clinic where I used to work.

It happened as I was driving through downtown, stopped at a light beneath an overpass. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. 

“Hi Doc!”

Since we were both hungry, we did the natural thing: we went for lunch at a nearby cafe. Despite intrigued glances from others, we had a lovely lunch. Looking back, it may have been one of the most enjoyable lunches I’ve ever had.

A few days later, I was contacted by the clinic who informed me that I had received a letter from a patient. And here I will share it with you—in a form put into verse by me but which maintains its original wording:

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Dear doc, you have been so kind to me.
Why, you even took me to lunch.
I wish I could give you something in return,
but I know I don’t have much.

So I write these simple words to you
in hope that on those days
that they’ll make you smile and give you strength
and peace in many ways.

You are a doctor to many,
but an angel you have been to me,
who encouraged, cared, and healed my pain,
and a light you made me see. 

I am sad that you are no longer my doc
but am glad that you are my friend.
And I hope we can keep in touch
until the very end. 

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So why did I share this? Because I was “challenged” by Liz to give a gift to someone. But now I realize—I don’t think I succeeded in giving anything to anyone.

Rather, the gift was given to me. 

 

 

Pearl.

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Twilight rent by a glittered moon
betray truth of a latent fear.
A gilded smile, a heart once proud,
joys tarnished by the salt of tears.

Captivate this wearied soul,
serenade her with a love divine.
Let the grains of silt that wounded her
be patterned for a jewel’s design.

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Cherished.

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Fervid waters of a love unborn
stir shadows in a twilight dance.
Cheek flushed beneath a nectared kiss,
heart ravished with singular glance.

Repose her upon the horizon pure
over blooms of lavender sheen
to be searched beneath an open sky
as she descends into oblivion serene.

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Unrequited.

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When a smile,
portrayed as guise of fire,
rusts as your presence departs…

When a caress,
lingered with twilight glow,
is but a shadow trailing
scarlet threads…

When a love, unreturned,
plays master calloused
to a fading hope…

Set a seal upon shallow heart,
you whom my soul desires,
and let me be released. 

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The Patient.

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I met you my intern year. I remember the first thing you said to me.

“I don’t care to be here.”

With a countenance creased from decades of hardship, a gait staggered from illness, eyes steeled by sufferings, your restrained presence betrayed a sheath impervious. I believed you previously had poor experiences in similar settings, because you told me so. I knew you didn’t trust me, because you told me so.

Our first few visits were stippled with formality. I posed questions; you answered. But they weren’t your answers, but perhaps words you knew I wanted to hear. I half expected you to stop coming. But you never did. Instead, you continued to sit there, guarded, a portrait of cordiality and cautiousness. 

And then one day it happened.

Your hard gaze glimmering with moisture, I saw your shell break. I then got to know you. Little by little, visit by visit. I learned of the pain you endure. I learned of your frustrations, your desperation…your despair. I learned of your deep heart. I learned many things. But most importantly, I learned who you were.

Months went by. Gradually a smile seeped through. Your eyes now shined as you shared with me the latest on your life. A life that I was lucky enough to now be a part of. But suddenly three years pass, and as my time with the clinic comes to an end, we now must part. On your last visit, I sense your frustration and anguish again, and I think I understand why. As you cry I reassure you that everything will be okay. But as I comfort you I am struck by a sudden surge of emotion, and I also struggle to keep my composure.

You see, through this experience, I have started to recognize what it is you were talking about. An understanding. A connection. Some may even say a friendship. Because even though you may not know this, I am now happier because you are happier. Because you are now healthier, more satisfied. Full of life. 

Now as we part I feel the tearing of a piece of my soul. As we hug one last time the goodbye is silent and understood. But then you pull back, look me in the eyes, and say simply, “Thank you for helping me live.”

As I hold back my own tears, I realize I am thinking the same thing.

Thank you for helping me live.

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