My Address is Earth: I'd Rather be a Fish Vendor

I left mother crying beside her sick princess.

I explained everything.

I stood in front of the nurse station trying to figure out what to do next. I was reviewing my medications, I was recomputing intravenous fluid, I was considering giving volume expanders and I was contemplating whether there is something more I could do to assure them. (The situation is, the truth may not always be reassuring.)

Meantime, I heard the chief nurse said,"Lola ,please wear slippers while in the hospital premises. Our floors are always cleaned but it's safer that you protect your feet." He was speaking to an old lady who was walking barefoot on the hospitals hallway.

I turned around. They were princess' Lola and daddy. They're standing behind me. It turns out that daddy and barefoot grandma were waiting to speak with me. They wanted to know if their princess will survive. They also wanted to know if they need to transfer princess to a bigger center.

I explained again.

I can feel an artery pulsating on my temporal area. "I think today , I'd rather be a fish vendor than a doctor. " I silently wished.

If I worked for a living as a fish vendor, when my computation is all wrong, the buyer won't have congestive heart failure nor would he have pleural effusion or water inside the lungs. Or, even if I forgot the name of the fish, outcome would still be the same, the buyer would still just cook the fish or worse throw them away. And, even if the buyer had a life threatening allergies or dies resulting from the ingestion of the fish, the vendor is still not liable. It's the fish's fault for being very hyperallergenic and it's the parents look out. (Incredible!)

I think just for today, while the sun is up and the waves are down, I'd rather sell fish for a living.

I suddenly feel exhausted.

I head for the clinic. There were kids waiting.

As last patient playfully slips under my clinic door , his mother handed me a bag.

"Uy, doctora thank you!" The mother said. I caught the bag in between my hands. It's a pair of shoes and a box of tea.

I knew what she was thanking me for. Her young son was admitted a few days ago because of cerebral concussion. They've been to manila because, although it's not indicated, she wanted a cranial cat scan for his son. She was very anxious. Anyway, the cat scan was not done. They were explained that it was really not indicated. And having two doctors tell them that there is no need for it, they had no choice but to believe them. The little boy was playfully going about the clinic.

We laughed.

Then, I remembered I love being a doctor.

(There are times when I feel that STRESS can kill me earlier than I hope to imagine...)

Btw, in time, Princess got better and lola became so happy that she wears her slippers all the time;-)