*fallible*

Fact of life: Everyone makes mistakes.

Everyone.

Everyday.

And the sooner we accept this fundamental principle of human nature, the easier it is for us to wake up in the morning and face life head-on.

However, while “to err is human”, not everyone can afford to make mistakes. And when it’s human lives you hold in your hands, you cannot dare to indulge in the luxury of second chances simply because there isn’t another one.
I missed 26 items out of 120 in my last written exam.

Carelessness accounted for some of them. Ignorance was the culprit for most.

I cannot afford to be careless! And all the more can I not afford to be ignorant!

Twenty six items may not seem like a lot. Yes, I sound like the perfect example of the classic perfectionist. Instead of being grateful for even passing such a tough exam, here I am whining. Yes, I’m seeing a half-empty glass instead of one which is half-full.

But when you’re neck-to-neck in the competition for the top spots, the slightest mistake could be your downfall. (And those twenty-six mistakes will most definitely pull me down.)

And when your job description demands perfection, every mistake counts.

Every.


If I could react this way to twenty six items in a written exam, how would I react when a mistake would not cost me a few points but a life?

Somebody’s husband… somebody’s wife… somebody’s child… somebody’s mother… or father or brother or sister or friend…

I wonder if I would ever be strong enough to carry such a heavy burden. I wonder if I could even get up in the morning with such guilt weighing heavily in my spirit.

For someday… sooner or later… there will be blood in my hands. This is a fact of life that I… and everybody who wishes to take this path… have got to face.
Frustration at my fallibility. This will perhaps be one of the most recurring themes of my life.

And that’s why I need a God. For I can never be anything but fallible. And He can never be anything but Infallible.

*when i grow up*

Remember preschool? Those were the times when we were miniature versions of ourselves. We were a whole lot cuter then, too.

“And what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Does this sound familiar?

Innocence made us believe we could conquer the world. We could be anyone we wanted to be. Teacher… lawyer… nurse… businessman… scientist… priest… seaman… astronaut…

There was no stopping our young minds. There was no limit to what we could be… when we grow up.

Young as I was, I already knew what I wanted to be. To everyone who asked this all-important question, I had only one answer.

“When I grow up, I want to be a doctor.”


Fast forward. Technically, I have now grown up.

I’ve had four graduations since then (preschool, grade school, high school, college). And I look back with fondness at that little girl who refused to be anything else but a doctor.

And I wonder… What in the world made me want to become a doctor?

Did environmental factors come into play? My mother, a nurse, often took me along with her to the hospital. I practically spent my pre-preschool days playing with tongue depressors, stethoscopes and discarded medicine boxes. But then again, I could just as easily have wanted to become a nurse. The fact is, I didn’t. It never entered my young head.

Is it genetic? There isn’t a single doctor in my direct lineage. Mine was a family of farmers and fishermen. I did have second and third degree relatives who ventured into the field, though.

I have no answer.


I’m well into my fourth month of medicine.

And I’m loving every single minute of it.

Yes, even the sleepless nights and the sleep-inducing lectures and the killing of innocent frogs. And while like perhaps every single medical student, I literally sleep on my books, there’s no satiety to my craving for knowledge. I am fascinated by the workings of the human body. I stand in awe at the majesty and beauty of it all.

I’m living my dream. Not everyone is given the chance. It’s both humbling and uplifting.

I’m a long, long, long way off from becoming a doctor. And the truth is, it will perhaps be an even longer time before I’m all grown up in every sense of the word.

But God has woven this dream into the very fabric of my soul. And that little girl who was dead set into becoming a doctor is just as stubborn now as she was then. There’s simply no stopping her