Learning to be patient

'Everyone has a limit to their patience', said Mrs. George- our new English lecturer in her very first class, 'and when that limit is reached... We need to ask God for more'. It almost made me laugh, for while she was still talking, I had eagerly waited for a reasonable excuse to blow up from a better experienced person.

Being patient is possible sometimes, but... I have my own doubts. Especially when I'm tackling non-compliant or difficult patients.

It's not easy to put up with a patient whose oxygen saturation is 100, respiratory rate and ABG reports are well with in normal limits, whose chest on auscultation reveals little abnormal sounds, complaining in a loud shriek, 'I'm dying! Why don't you give me some injections? Put me on the ventilator!' Let alone the decible levels, he also makes me dart around making phone calls to the radiology department for an emergency portable chest x-ray, to the CCU for a respule which is not available in the hospital pharmacy and drives me to get the respiratory therapist's attention who at that moment was perhaps sweet-talking with his girl friend. All this, when there are other patients who require my greater attention and care.
Isn't it hard to put on a smile and reassure him, to enter into his crisis cycle and understand him?
It's not just hard but impossible!
At that moment, contrary to my instinctive nature, I found myself asking for more- More of patience. Not because I was inclined to but because there was no other choice. After all, he is a patient under my care.

A saintly smile and a caring touch. I wonder how many more training situations such as these will make me truly acquire them :)

Being with you

Life sometimes gives us all certain moments that can't be easily forgotten.
I have now clutched in my hands some such moments that can never be forgotten! Not until I breathe my last...

It's here!

She's alone at home today. She's taken a day off from her busy and slightly annoying and mind-strangling job. Her friends had almost persuaded her to join them to a new flick that was making waves in the hep city she lived, but she'd managed to break away at the last possible moment. Now as she picked the red, blue and green satin ribbons to tie them into a flowery bow, she smiled to herself, breathing in the sweet aroma of scented candles that lay strewn around the mantle. 'It'sChristmas again', she said particularly to no one.

The tree stood ready to be ornated and the lush green colour of the leaves shone even more brightly as if putting on a happy smile. The memories of her childhood came bubbling over her mind when her extra large family would gather around the Christmas tree singing carols and overly decorating it. With music and the scent of goodies floating in the air, the crowded joy of the family was playing in her mind when suddenly the present filled her senses. Her neat room was deserted. There was no papa fixing the star in the balcony. Mum was not int the kitchen battering the eggs for cakes. Her sisters were not around trying on new dresses and debating over what to wear for the Christmas mass.

She was all alone. She didn't know what to do. Her hands that were tying the satin materials together with the dexterity she had acquired over the years felt limp. Something seemed to be convulsing in the place where once she thought there was a heart. That organ she believed had disappeared from there the moment she had willingly left behind her beloved home. Now it lay miles away, perhaps not even the same.

She tossed away the ribbons and squeezed her eyes shut. Eventually, she cried covering her face with both hands.

"Ding dong!"

Someone was at the door.

Hurriedly wiping the obstinate tears she flailed first towards the room to check if she was fit to be seen by whoever it was waiting at the door- If not anything, her profession had taught her the importance of carrying oneself well. Rubbing a little tear from here and a little stain from there she composedly walked to the door and opened it.

"Merry Christmas!" came a chorus ringing with the voices that were the most dear to her.

"Papa! Ma!" She couldn't believe her eyes. Like that was not enough, all her lovely and beautiful sisters barged into the room with hands full of fat bags singing carols.

"It's here! Christmas is here", said Papa hugging her gently "and we'll not celebrate without our daughter"

May you have a blessed and meaningful Christmas.

The stream of His love

In the garden of my life
The stream of His love flows...
It waters, restores to life,
Blooming hopes evoking silken glow.
The dancing stream's musical spell
Washes the petals of dreams with care.
Flowing, singing, vibrant notes,
It's fragrance refreshes the sullen air.
Now the perfumes with gentle persistence
Have so pervaded me...
Lord, I had known no existence
Before knowing Thee...

Godly Insomnia!

It's 3 in the morning now and I'm wide awake. There's no particular thought running through my mind. No worries or cares... I'm simply lying on my bunk bed gazing at the fan running at top speed.
It must be the result of those ever so frequent night duties. Staying up all night does not seem all that abnatural. Yet, it's strange why I lie awake. My roomies aren't even snoring! It was a night of great discoveries as I journyed from the routeins to the extra-ordinaries.
3 missed calls from Mit bro. (That's his cost-effective way of saying goodnight) flashed on my cell at 12am. My mind raced over the events of the day. It was a hectic one. The ICU was full and we had a hard time managing our assignments. My feet were sore when I finally sunk into the chair at the nurses station. 'I'm maxed out!', somebody whined. Yeah. One of those 'uncool' days we agreed. Mit bro, however, surprised me by his response 'I come here to work and I did just that today.' he said. His tone was humble. Not mocking us for complaining. He was only being himself.
Those lines rang in my mind for a while. Then, I began to pray. Every time I'm ready to give up, He sets my perspective right. I had lost sight of my purpose oflate and my work had turned tedious. But he spoke into my life and renewed it by His Word.
In the quiet of this sleepless night I lighted upon another great truth. It can never be 'ALL OVER' between God and me. No matter how many times I fight with Him, go astray or fall down, it's never the end of our relationship. Yes, the consequences are distasteful but I don't have to wonder in dreadful suspense if I can ever start over with Him. It's comforting. A thought on which I can meditate through out the night.