Mystery
Today I saw a baby being revived from near death. It was gray, barely crying. I remember having wondered in the past whether newborn babies in distress really do appear blue or gray. Whenever I would read about babies appearing gray I would always dismiss that as exaggeration. But medicine is truly complex and simple at the same time, and at that moment, there was no other way of describing the baby more simply than by describing it as that: she was gray.
The baby was quiet. It had been rushed into the room and placed hastily and almost carelessly on the warming surface. It was barely moving, and numerous flicks to its leg did not rouse it. Its eyes were shut, and it was hardly breathing. It seemed to me that it was exhausted, too tired to breathe, too tired to live.
I could feel the tension in my chest. We were there simply to see the facilities and familiarize ourselves with the department; we were to do nothing else. I looked at the doctor. The doctor was outwardly calm, but it was likely that she was tense as well, seeing that losing the baby was a distinct probability. She inserted a tube into her mouth to suck off the meconium lodged in her throat, and perhaps even in her trachea and her lungs. I watched with growing panic while the baby remained blue. I was scared, and felt a friend grip my shoulder and arm. My friend was scared, too.
The doctor did not give up. She started pumping the baby with air through an ambu bag. It felt like she was doing the procedure for half an hour, when in fact it probably was no longer than 2 minutes. All this time I was afraid that the baby would die.
And then I saw the baby cry. That was a good sign, because I sighed in relief as I saw color quickly flooding into the baby’s body. The baby started to move and kick, and was flailing its arms about. I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding the entire time. I left the baby sure that it was going to be ok. My walking was slowed, my mind preoccupied with what I just witnessed. I felt that this an important moment, significant. I needed some time by myself.
Medicine is full of those moments when reflecting about life and burrowing deep into one’s soul is appropriate, needed, if only to relish the richness of life. To be confronted with the very raw truths of life and living, to know what, in the end, truly matters. I realized that very many times, the hospital—my future place of work—will be where life begins and where it ends. I feel I need to be prepared to be part of that cosmically profound environment.
I am glad to be doing this reflection: I am afraid that if I do not do this, if I do not reflect and understand the meaning of what I am going through as they happen, meaning will slip through and disappear beneath my demystified view of life. I will no longer ask questions about life. Questions like, if life was more than a person’s body, then why does it slip away if I stand back and do nothing? Why would a baby die if a doctor does not help? Mystery will soon be diminished by knowledge, my sense of awe deadened by seeing a miracle occur countless of times a day.
And it has started. In the
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wards seeing numerous patients receiving health care in the Philippine General Hospital, I feel that I am slowly beginning to accept that this is how things should be. I am beginning to tell myself that this is already the best we could do, the best we could offer, and the best that the poor deserve. By this I mean the crowded wards, the unsanitary environment, the facilities threatened by age, patients endangered by infection. By this I mean the poverty of PGH, the poverty of its patients, redeemed only by the sincerity of its doctors and staff.
Poverty is humbling. I see in the eyes of the doctors and the staff of PGH the sincere desire to help. Many may argue that if it is there, then it must be hidden underneath layer upon layer of cynicism and fatalism. That this is what PGH can offer: take it or leave it.
I can accept that this is the best we can offer right now. I refuse to accept, however, that things should remain the same. I still believe we can uplift the lives of so many more Filipinos.
Seeing the squalid conditions of the hospital I squirmed at the realization that for many, many Filipinos, this is where life truly begins. The less than ideal surroundings, but the abundance of heart and dedication to see life through. For the baby that was roused from its deadly sleep, she was not saved by poverty but by the big heart of the doctors reviving her, prodding her to hope amidst her poverty. I hope I can be one of those doctors someday. But at the same time, I hope I can be part of a larger goal: to serve Filipinos by uplifting and empowering them to no longer be poor.
Septmeber 19, 2005
December 21st, 2005 at 9:29 pm
Vince, throughout your stay in med school the realizations will only grow more final and more desperate. There will be countless times that patients who cannot afford treatment will die right in front of you as you can do nothing but watch. The best you can do at times is to palliate theirs and their families’ feelings. A lot of times you will also be disillusioned by the way doctors, your colleagues, your classmates, your seniors, think and act in the hospital. Things are far off from being ideal. A lot of people told me that med school was going to be a hardening experience, and that it was going to suck out the humanity in me. To be honest, they were right in some way. But sometimes, it really is necessary to not let yourself get too attached or too affected, so you can quickly move on to the next patient whose life you can still save. I admire your thirst to help people. But always remember, being a doctor doesn’t automatically make you a noble person who serves other people without expecting anything in return. It’s going to be a tough road. But stick to it, don’t waver, and you’ll get there in no time.
December 22nd, 2005 at 2:25 am
Bless your heart. May that sense of awe remain in you always; the realization that life is a precious gift. Don’t let go of that.
BTW, mag-usap nga kayo ni Ross. You might wanna read each other’s blog entries.