Skip to main content

Metaphors and Medicine (Year I): Chapter 16

 I set a goal to be present, to simply be, to find myself in the midst of patient stories in OR’s or packed patient rooms.

What I ended up finding was that in the silence of the rest of the world, while I am away from my commitments and all the things I “have” to do, all the people I “have” to be, I am able to hear and feel exactly what I want. The last week that I spent working 8-14 hours a day turned out to be the most life-changing period of my life. There’s something that happens to you when you are away in a different world, and being in that hospital everyday felt that way.

The drive into the city each and everyday renewed my intention to serve a place away from my own, to strive to make this new place a home in a way that would make me love its people without knowing them. When you are on your own, you find connections with the people you are experiencing this other world with for they will always be the ones who understand exactly what this experience was like for all of you, how strong your connections were.

It’s been interesting to try to readjust to life since that, to try to enjoy “free time” when I really had the best of times immersed in work and love. There’s something beautiful about feeling like you’re home, no matter how “American” I may sound or look.


It took a day for me to feel like I was around family in that hospital, and I found myself and my culture in the stories I heard. I found myself in the cracks on the pavement of the old city of Nablus. I felt the untold stories of my country in the architecture of the old homes, discovered parts of myself through the exploration of a history I did not witness but will always be a part of me. Each new patient we saw or each new corner we explored meant learning more about myself just as much as learning about others.


And each time I made sure that when I needed to pause, walk slower, take in the view after I took a picture, to say goodbye one more time to a patient I connected to, I forgave myself for needing those extra moments regardless of how it may have looked to anyone observing. These moments of self discovery don’t come often.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I wanted to belong here But something felt so wrong here -Breakaway No, I'm not one of those people who post song lyrics to explain every moments of their lives, but this is my first post, and I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway as I try to put my words down on here. I just felt like those two lines really relate to what I am about to talk about. Me. Since you and I are both new here, I thought I'd introduce myself, give you a reason to keep reading my blog, and give you a reason to believe that I really hope you find a friend in me. Here's my story: I am a writer. I love writing. I believe words run through my veins with my blood, dialogue is constantly on play in my head, and I could speak in metaphors all day if I wanted to. Really, try me. ;) Point is, I am a very figurative yet literal person. And when my life was forced to change, I used writing to help me get through it. After my sophomore in high school, I moved away from the Middle East (whe...
2 comments
Read more

Metaphors and Medicine (Year I): Chapter 2

There's a story behind everything in medicine. In the first few weeks of school, I was walking to the children's hospital connected to my school with a friend as we adventured to the cafeteria in search of additional doses of caffeine to fuel our long biochemistry study session. As we walked, I complained about how challenging this test was going to be, how hard studying was, how challenging this adjustment has been, etc, etc, etc. Meanwhile, we got onto the elevator and joined what seemed like a child and his mother and grandmother. "Where to?" she asked. "Lower level, please, thanks," I said. She nodded and clicked the LL button. She had her hands tenderly around the little boy's shoulders. I resumed speaking to my friend about how worth it I hope it'll be later. The family remained quiet and the elevator stopped, opening its doors to the level that was their stop. As they were leaving, I looked up at the mother, her eyes appeared red and ...
Post a Comment
Read more

What does it really mean to be American?

Hmm, got you thinking there, didn't I? Just yesterday, I had a discussion with a few friends about this question. We had to think about it for a few minutes to. What does it really mean to be American? Do you have to be born here to be American? Do you have to have an American passport? Are you still American if you've lived in America your whole life but you aren't a citizen? What if you're like me, lived in two different countries during your lifetime and have a different nationality? Does the fact that I'm an American citizen and a Palestinian citizen make me Palestinian or American? Here's what I said: I think that as long as you can refer to America as your home, no matter who you are or where your family is from, you're still an American.  And this doesn't just concern America. If a person is American but has lived in Germany or France during their life, and they can somehow refer to that place as home, then that makes them German or Fren...
Post a Comment
Read more