i took two caplets of advil PM at around 1 this afternoon. i had an unspeakably annoying headache after two nights of working with very little sleep in between.

fighting off drug induced sleepiness is extremely hard but a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do. i had to heat up the leftover, stale looking, home style, grocery purchased fried chicken so the kids could at least eat something that resembles a decent meal. i know that sounds like child abuse to the perfect moms society, but i waive my right to be judged because at least the kids ate the fried chicken with some brown rice. hah.

anyway, just when i thought i was done with the disheartening sad stories, it appeared like i was challenged by the playful gods sad stories, because the last two nights at work proved to be even more saddening.

one of my patients was a guy in his mid 30s who, in 2002 lost his right eye. as i asked the translator to interpret for me, i found out that his right eye was infected with contaminated water while he was taking a shower six years ago.

it felt rude to ask for further details, and the recited details sounded pretty vague anyway, that i fought the urge to ask for further elaboration. i thought the real story behind the missing right eye was really irrelevant. the glaring, saddening truth was, this guy had been walking around the planet with an empty eye socket packed with gauze that he religiously replaced everyday, for six years now. asking why he never thought of artificial eye to replace his lost eye just seemed to be too probing and impolite, so i didn’t dare go there.

in the literal sense of the line “adding insult to injury”, a couple of months ago, his right face was bitten by some sort of something, which they suspected was a spider, but never really knew. after unsuccessful treatments, infected and helpless, he came to us with his right face peeled off like he had a third degree burn. he lost half of his nose, and his right ear, slowly rotting away.

for two nights, i had to dress this poor man’s face, while looking at his supposed eye and nose packed with gauze. i was relieved he didn’t mind that he looked like a mummy with the way i covered the dressing around his head to keep it on. unable to understand a thing of english, i did not attempt any kind of verbal communication with him. besides, small talk seemed extremely pointless in the grand scheme of things. i just hoped he knew from my slow, deliberate movements that i felt so bad for him.

as if that’s not enough, in the middle of the night, i had to admit a male patient on his mid 20s who, for the second time in a period of one week had attempted suicide. fortunately, although the sedatives knocked him up big time, it did not kill him. i can only imagine how much resolve he is going to get from this second documented failure to take his life.

it was sad that he personally had given up hope on life, yes; but to me, what was even sadder was the fact that for the whole two days that he was with us, nobody visited him. NOBODY. just one person. someone. just to imply that somebody he knew cared enough to show up. one person would have been more than enough.

imagine feeling so worthless to the point of ending it all, and finding out that really, you were right for feeling that way because NOBODY even cared to see why you were in the hospital for taking over a hundred pills so you can escape it all.

not that i am praying for people to have pneumonia or UTI or something. i’m just thinking, is it too much to ask for patients like those? you know, those who are in the hospital for a few courses of antibiotics and then get discharged happy and healed after a few days?

wishful thinking.

i should just stop being so melodramatic,
and accept reality.
like a pro.