Staying in the library until the light goes out, I devoured cases of accurate diagnosis and successful surgeries that magically brought back people’s life. As a child, medicine seemed sublime as to offer infinite possibilities that challenge the biological nature beyond the boundary of science as human beings.
The first time my grandmother collapsed in front of my eyes, I certainly believed that medicine will bring her cherished memories and vibrant life like how I’ve read in the book, for that was the sole purpose of medicine’s existence, the reason I aspired to become a physician.
However, she was diagnosed as a terminal patient. As for me, the moment of witnessing the failure of medicine was a betrayal of what I’ve wholesomely believed in all my life.
Brushing aside my feelings of betrayal, I pondered what my grandmother needed the most at that moment. I listened to her childhood stories, watched her favorite cultural videos together, attempted to make a stronger connection by surpassing our generation gap. I thought I was alone in my efforts, but one day, I was surprised to notice other people making the same effort as mine: her physicians. Expressing genuine empathy towards her at times of vulnerability, they consistently paid attention to any signs of discomfort; they understood her as a person more than a patient, creating an even deeper connection than I’ve ever imagined.
In front of what humans can’t control, I came to realize that medicine’s role wasn’t postponing the death nor making miracles but to hold patients and family’s hearts and to help them face their situation through moderating physical and emotional discomfort. The physician’s responsibility didn’t have to be sublime as making a firm promise to return the patient’s past life, but making a promise to give one’s utmost to focus on what can be done for the patient beyond diagnosis and prescription based on medical knowledge and intelligence.
Sure, medicine had limitations. Yet, it never failed.
Beyond what I do, I thus started to consider what patients need the most at every moment.
Realizing my understanding didn’t only apply to the incurable patients but everyone I come across who needs medical assistance, in everything I do in pursuing medicine, I started to consider patients.
I began to consider what patients need the most at every moment.
For the child who fears the hospital, my role lay in reading fairytales instead of (though I admit I was embarrassed imitating the dog’s barking sound in the middle of the hospital).
It perhaps lay within reading fairy tales to the child who wanted emotional console the most before having a treatment (though I admit I was embarrassed imitating the dog’s barking sound in the middle of the hospital).
It perhaps lay within respecting the HIV-infected patient’s informed treatment, focusing instead on what she has wanted: reaching out to share food and watch a movie together rather than further administering treatments.
It perhaps even lies within the lab where I’m currently researching COVID-19 medication, motivated by how this small molecule would bring what patients need the most: spontaneous respiration for some, reunification with family out of NPIR for some.
These were the medicine’s power that I see over weakness, the reason for my passion, the self-promise of why I once again determined to become a physician.
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After years, I'm now studying in medical school. So far, I think I made the right choice.
Writer: 이서형
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