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Why Kan’t Doc Zoe Write?

This blog fell from a supposed former adrenaline junkie.


Jul 22nd 2009
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I felt so sad that most of my friends have left. I know the purpose of staying behind is to oversee the people left here. Still, I was too busy sulking.

So when I was fetched by a whole bunch of frantic people at 1:30am because Roy, a local teen, was stabbed, I instantly recognized that this was God’s challenging way of making me realize the purpose of why I had to be left.

Yes, God, I got it.

And as if God wanted to rub it in, He did it the subtle way.

On the speedboat ride to the capital city, I was constantly checking on Roy’s vitals and IV line. When I was checking his pulse under his sheets, Roy caught my hand and held it. I have held a lot of my patients’ hands before. I do this because I cannot give false hopes to my patients, but I can give them some sort of comfort and strength. But not too many actually initiate the hand-holding like Roy.

He held on to me. I squeezed his hand a bit and he stroked my hand back.

You’re welcome, kid.

Photo borrowed here.

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