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Metaphors and Medicine (Year 1): Chapter 6

I was laughing. A friend said a joke, and the rest of us laughed. We were at the point where all the little, silly things seemed funnier than they actually were. Studying for hours and thinking about what you need to study takes up a lot more brain power than expected. It puts you in this almost “loopy” state of mind, where a simple joke becomes something much larger and leads to tears flowing down your face.

We were still smiling as we found a study room to get comfortable in, plugged in our devices, took our papers, began mentally formulating a plan of what to tackle first. I mindlessly clicked on one of my social media pages and let it load as I took out my highlighters. When I looked down at my phone, time stopped.

Home.

Conversation became faint background noise.

Home.

Another headline leaving my head spinning. Another reminder of the life I live that feels so separate from the rest of the world. In situations like this, I feel so separate and so divided all at once.

I forgot. Again. I forgot home.

Donald Trump would be announcing Jerusalem as the capital of Israel on Wednesday. A 69 year situation tainted with lost families, closed doors, abandoned memories on house walls, lost hope driving youth to giving up the possibility of a future…it was all going to tossed to the side by a single individual who had no connection to the region, no story, no background, no roots.

Yet in one announcement, he plans to pull the roots of all those who left their hearts with the memories of the families and land they left behind.

Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was the fear I held of what headlines I would see next. How many youth would retaliate and give up a chance at a future because of their need to be heard? How many more mothers would have to bury their sons because of a desire to hope that was so strong that they did not find value in this life anymore, but they were hungry for a hope they believed existed in another life, one greater than this.

While this post is a little different than what I normally write about, this is an important part of having your life wrapped around something that is as consuming as medical school. It is so easy to become so focused on the task at hand that you forget to call a loved one, forget to respond to a text, forget that it’s been three days instead of one. Sometimes you forget that you are putting this work in for a greater cause, for a people you want to dig hope out of the ground to offer them instead of bury them in it.

Sometimes you forget that there are greater issues existing than the upcoming exam you are fretting over.

“Are you okay?” My friend seated across from me asked.

“Yes,” I responded, my response so natural in this setting when you are always telling yourself you are fine, you are okay, regardless of whether you are or not.

I stepped outside, called my mother, needing to remember home, to remember why I was here and not there.

To anyone who has a strong connection to somewhere outside of where you live, you may understand this. You may understand the difficulty to understand why you were chosen out of the others to live a life of privilege, to have access to everything, to be with your family and not worried that someone might not come home or someone might be detained. You may understand that we realize this is a problem of the privileged, that somehow guilt could be privilege and we are aware of that. I am aware that that struggle will never be mine. Realistically, where I am is where I am more useful. If I was home and living the struggle first hand, perhaps I would not be able to serve and give back in the way I dream to do with the education I am receiving right now. Perhaps I would not be able to share their stories over and over again and have the opportunity to introduce someone to the idea of Palestine for the first time. Perhaps I would not be able to make a difference to communities living in the Diaspora like I am.

But the guilt is real, and at times, that reality check is necessary but painful. To be honest, it is challenging to remain connected to the news when things can so easily move your feelings in a negative direction and make it difficult to be motivated. so there is a certain amount of separation that is necessary, and that is terrible to say.

I am trying to remember. Each day, each week, I strive to remember. And maybe each time I remember home, it’ll be easier to remind myself that purpose brought me here. One day, I will give back. And the reminders will become less and less painful as I see that I have a chance to make a difference.


Until then, please pray for the safety of the Palestinian people as we await what tomorrow holds. This idea of freedom and “peace” in the region has continued to be brushed under the rug for way too long. One cannot offer one country freedom at the expense of the loss of the rights of another. 

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