Don’t know when, but doctors started having the halo of an idol: from the shows on T.V. to the newspapers and magazines, from health specialty reports to politics, you can hear the doctors and physicians chat on comfortably. Even, some of the physicians’ and doctors’ personal lives took up bigger spaces than the international news.
Since the moment I entered into medical school, my parents started reminding me constantly, that in my spare time, I’d needed to, take in more of the new medical knowledge available in this country and internationally too, that if I need a break, watching the Discovery and National Geography Channels are great choices.
But, since I’d left the hospitals, I’d enjoyed crouching on the couch, with a small lamplight, and playing the songs of Jay Chou, Andy Lau, May Day, 9-1-1, or Jody Chiang, so long as it sounded right for the moment. When I’m blue or upset, I’d, entered into the writings of Man-Juan Chang, felt the love she has for the world; when I felt displeased, I’d, taken the hands of the sci-fi writer, Yi Huang; and I’d read poetry too, and read some romance novels I forgot the titles of already, the detective/mysteries as well. When I’m about to fall asleep, I’d, turn on the television, and drift off into dreams, with the sound of those entertainment shows.
My parents told me, that maybe, as a physician, I’d not needed to dress in suits constantly, but at least, I’d needed a simple polo or dress shirt.
But, after work, I’d loved changing into my simple T-shirts, with my shorts, and flip-flops, and start wandering at the parks nearby. If it’s hot out, then, I’d traded in a few coins for a 750cc’s of bubble tea. And, I’d bumped into my patients every now and then, when they saw me, they’d felt shocked, and inquired, “You would let yourself slide too?”, and I’d smiled and replied, “Yeah, I’m off work now!”
not my photo…
My parents told me, that as a physician, I’d needed to find a better half who’s matched with me. And, I kept on getting confused with the definitions of “matched”, believed, that “connecting” is more important. My girlfriend is a nurse in the hospital, her mother died when she was young, and all her father could do, was to make sure she and her siblings had food on the tables. And, because of how she was from a single-parent background, we’d cherished and treated one another even more kindly; she knew I loved sports, and she could sit on the bleachers, and cheer endlessly for me for hours on end; knew how I loved the wind against my face, she could ride alongside me, and, didn’t mind that she was tanned one bit.
“Doctor” is just an occupational title, it shouldn’t be put on that high pedestal, nor should it have that “idol” halo about it. Doctors couldn’t cut off the crops for harvests, couldn’t fix up the cars and motorcycles like the mechanics could, couldn’t keep the livestock either; doctors couldn’t do any of the 364 other job descriptions, and, treating our patients, sometimes, it’s, a constant tug-of-war with death.
In the huge hospital, I’m merely, a small physician who knows his place; as I left the hospitals, I’d dressed down, chased the garbage trucks, fought with the owners of the local night market shops ‘til I was red in the face. I’m a small-scale physician who enjoys pop music, dressed down, living, in my own pace, someone who’d too ordinary to be taken a note of.
So, those physicians, doctors, are NOTHING H-O-L-Y after all, but because it’s an occupation that’s gotten the attention, everybody wants to become one, and, this doctor showed us, that he’s just like any one of us, with all his ups and downs, it’s just that his job involves saving people’s lives is all, there’s NO need for that shiny spotlight on him after all!