213: 19.7 A Milestone

A and I are soaking the sun up in Athens at the moment. There are stories to tell about our travels so far, but I wanted to dedicate this post to me reaching the end of my most junior year of being a doctor. Yesterday marked the last ever day of me being an FY1, Alhamdulillah!

The day was met with a mix of excitement, relief and sadness. The night before I was toiling away in the kitchen making my team a batch of pandan almond cookies as a sweet parting gift. They were gobbled down pretty quickly by the surgical team - thankfully my sparse baking experience did make for a successful experimental bake this time! The day was surreal too - has it already been a year?! Boy, it went pretty quickly!

And it was also equally sad as I had to bid goodbye to colleagues who are going to leave the hospital. There were many "I will miss yous" and "It was fun working with yous" exchanged - it really did feel like an end of an era. To think that a year ago, we were all gathered in the lecture hall, us new FY1s - all wide eyed enthusiasts who were carrying our medical dreams and that of our families on our backs. We felt somewhat like imposters, thinking over and over again, were we really equipped to treat sick patients as doctors? Since that day, through many hardships, trials and blunders, we grew with one another - gaining a little bit more confidence with each passing day. We were there for the tears, temper tantrums and we were present with mugs of coffee or tea when one of us needed an energy boost. Strangers became colleagues, and colleagues became friends.

I am glad that the year has come to an end, but I am too closing this chapter with a heavy heart.

For now, I am determined to celebrate my survivorship through travelling care free with the husband around Greece and Italy for the next two weeks. Alhamdulillah, after the year we had, we do really need a holiday.

212: 13.7 Ramadan

It was past the halfway mark in Ramadan - and after surviving many back to back weekend shifts, I really needed a spiritual boost. The fasting was relatively easy this Ramadan despite my initial worries. This was my first fasting month as a full time working lady. Days were long and hot, and I was nervous about being tired or thirsty whilst on-call. Before, as a student, I could have easily shirked off responsibility - skipping classes for an extra hour of shut eye, or opting out of going out for a walk, choosing instead to being under a roof, sheltered from the sun's harsh rays.

But surprisingly, and thankfully, God had blessed this Ramadan with so much ease, Alhamdulillah. I had more energy than I would have normally (especially if compared to my normal post-prandrial lunchtime self). I could cycle to and from work without any fuss, and on busy days, I sometimes didn't even notice that I haven't broken my fast until the realisation that outside was clothed in darkness had set in. My body, my mind and my soul felt lighter. 

However, after a long stretch of non-stop oncalls, I found myself waning. By the time I got home at night, I had not the energy to perform some of the special optional prayers of Ramadan. I could barely pry my eyes open for the obligatory prayers! It was like I was slipping away from Him, a feeling that is unfortunately all too familiar. Feeling distant will subsequently lead to feeling anxious.

In efforts to gain closeness, I suggested that we visit a local mosque for night prayers. We arrived only to be utterly disappointed - as my sister and I were turned away as there was "no space for sisters". On the angry walk back, I felt let down by the Muslim community and disgusted by such alienating behaviour. Unfortunately, this was not the first time this happened, and I predict it won't be the last. But that is a long story, for another time.

Basically after the shambles of that night, I just wanted to find an inclusive place to celebrate this beautiful month. And thats when we visited the Ramadan Tent Project. Located in central London, people of all faiths and none gathered together to open fast together. The tent was filled to its brim with people from all walks of life. Strangers opening dialogue with each other, talks on Islam, debunking some misconceptions of it preceded the beautiful call to prayer.

The azan brought tears to my eyes - didn't realise how much I had missed it. We prayed together, ate together and joined each other in conversation. I felt the spirit of Islam more here than in that so-called mosque. In that realisation, I felt both happy and sad. Sad that some religious institutions are misusing their power in misrepresenting our faith by excluding women from seeking closeness to God. But I also felt happy that the younger communities are doing something about it - working hard in changing perceptions and uniting communities as Islam has taught us.

With all the ups and downs that Ramadan had brought, I am so thankful for being given the chance to experience this blessed month in full. One of my seniors asked me, "Aren't you relived that you don't have to fast anymore in a few days time? You can finally eat again!"

I thought about it for a while, then gave him a smile.

"I think I am a little bit sad that it's going to be over soon. I am truly going to miss it."

211: 12.7 Coming home

The day has been solemn, chilly and grey today. Maybe a side effect of England losing to Croatia in yesterday's match. A and I were on one of our long walks along the canal yesterday - we watched the match by proxy - checking scores whenever we hear yells of disbelief or triumph from neighbouring crowds. Unlike days before, yesterday the atmosphere was less lively, not as animatic or vocal as when the team was on its winning streak.

We made it home to catch the last 15 minutes of the game. Although we are not football enthusiasts in any stretch of the imagination, we felt the nation's pain as Croatia scored its winning goal in the 11th hour.

On my cycle to work today, there were still many England flags up - on cars and houses. Probably marking the nation's solidarity and pride to the home team - they came so far. I was sitting in one of the oncology clinics today as part of my taster week. Mid-consulation with a patient, we heard loud machine like noises from helicopters and planes gracing the skies. The metal blades whipping the clouds above our heads. It was so loud that we had to stop our conversation in its tracks.

The wife of the patient pointed upwards and said, "Looks like Trump has arrived!"
Oh God, I momentarily forgot about him and his unwelcomed visit. 
"Or maybe thats the football team finally coming home!" she added with a laugh.

210: 11.7 Intentions

Hello after a long-ish hiatus!

As I write this, I am drowning in lethargy in the middle of a bustling coffee shop - trying my best to absorb alertness from the surrounding environment and from my caffeinated drinks. As a non-coffee drinker, I even resorted to taking a sip of A's iced coffee (yuck). The primary intention of visiting was for me to read - but after a few pages, and many yawns later, I have realised that continuing this effort will probably result in a semi-comatose customer drooling on a cafe's clean, nicely polished wooden table.

Really goes to show that the All Mighty has plans for everything - one might have the noblest of intentions, but in the end of the day Allah swt knows best. After many challenging weeks at work lately, I found myself struggling to find meaning. Of late, I have been an autopilot at work - clock in, work, clock out. Counting the minutes to the end of the shifts, one foot in front of the other, one patient after another. On one particular day for instance, the trains decided not to work yet again during a weekend shift. I had a choice to make - to turn up to work late, or to fork out a sizable sum of money to pay for an Uber to take me to work.

"But its alot of money!" I said whilst talking through the dilemma with A.
"Yes, but people are relying on you."
"I doubt that the hospital are going to pay me back though - they never do. And this is a alot of money for just transport."

A paused, gave me a minute to collect my thoughts and to calm down.

Then he said, "You do realise that the work you do is filled with blessings, don't you? You take care of the sick, you help make them better. That money spent for an Uber is ultimately a small investment - not only for your professional life, but also on your spiritual self - on your Hereafter. So it is never ever a waste."

I sat there, taking it all in - realising I no longer have a legitimate rebuttal to this argument. He was right; completely right. In the months where I just plodded on in work, I had lost my purpose and drive. And it was high time that I renewed by intentions. For me, medicine has never been just a job, it has been a calling. But this is easily forgotten through the demanding nature of its work. So I am eternally grateful that A is here to remind me of what is truly important.