Mission
For some reason ... my thoughts flow easily only at midnights. My mind becomes full with things I wanna say. It's 4am now, and it's that time. Tonight, I feel like sharing a significant puzzle piece from my life.I feel like talking about something, which some of you might classify as "silly" or "meaningless" or "propaganda-to-impress-people-and make-Janus-look-like-an-angel" kinda stuff.
Wadever. Think what you like.
My team-mates from the BHBH2 Philippines trip, you've already heard this story during one of our sharing sessions. If it doesn't bore you too much, just take it in one more time yeah?
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I was around 6 years old then. My mom's away, and my dad's at work as usual. On that fateful day, my maid decided to shop for some groceries at the line of shophouses across the road from my estate. She took me along, holding my hand as we walked slowly down the familiar stony path across the field.
The road's just ahead, but something looked different that day. There was a crowd of people, standing in a circle on the road close to the kerb. All of them were just staring down at the centre of the circle, noone's doing anything. Some wore expressions of disgust, others just stared blankly as if hypnotized.
As we veered closer, I realised there was a man lying on the road, in the centre of the crowd of people. He was laying in a pool of blood, literally. I haven't seen anything redder than that bloody scene. His clothes tattered, and (if i did not recall wrongly) long nasty wounds running down his hand and his leg. A road accident, it's easy to conclude. The victim's still bleeding, and he lay on the ground with one of his hands outstrected, calling out for help in Hokkien towards the people that surrounded him. His gaze shifted constantly from person to person, repeating the same words for someone to help him.
No one did.
Everyone just stood around staring blanky at him, as if he was some zoo animal or circus freakshow. There were murmurs among the crowd of people, some were pointing at him, all the while staring down at him as if his accident has degraded him to something less than a human. I didn't thought much of the incident then ... I thought of helping him, but I didn't know how. I was 6 years old, half the time my mind was a complete blank, and my maid was constantly tugging hard at me trying to pull me away.
So, the accident scene got further and further away from us as we walked away.
As I grew up, the emotions I should have felt then set in.
I felt ashamed of those people who treated the whole thing like a stage show.
I felt rage that these people falls into the same categories to what I am, a human and a Singaporean.
I felt sad for the victim.
and most of all, i felt guilt for not being able to do anything.
The accident images, and these feelings haunted me since.
Coincidentally, I was posted into the medical corps during my NSF days. My collegues were happy since medics lead quite a slack life. I was glad for a different reason, that finally I'm being equipped with the skills I need to save lives, and to, in a way, redeem myself. In the School of Military Medicine, i learnt how to dress wounds, CPR, emergency pre-hospital care, injections etc. Truely, with every step I found meaning in my life ... that's the first time I tasted fulfilment apart from the usual academic A-s on the report card. Sounds crazy it may, but at a point in time during my service I actually felt like signing-on forever, to ride on ambulances for a career reaching out to people who calls. Even some guys on the medical corp thought I was crazy when I became too passionate preaching about the glory of the medical mission to the trainees. To me, it's against all morals, that the calls of the wounded are ignored.
I often wished that I can go back to that childhood accident scene and offer a hand to the striken victim. Even if I cant do anything to heal his wounds, my touch will definately comfort his traumatised soul to some extent. I can do at least that, all of us can ... it just depends on whether we are willing to or not. If you can do so much for others by doing as little as offering a hand, why not do it?
Im proud to be a first-aider, I'm darn proud of it. It's what I'd gladly and passionately label as my mission in life, to forever do what I can to the dying and the injured, and to stand between Death and my patients, especially those whom are my friends.
Some of you may think I'm nuts, to constantly volunteer as the Safety Medic whenever we organise events. After all to most, NSF days are not meant to be glorified for too long. My teamates from BHBH2, some of you may also think Im a cockster to carry around a first-aid pouch on my waist wherever we go, even when shopping in the Malls, especially when we already have more professional safety personnels with more complete equipment watching over us.
Now you all know my story, and now you all know why.
Have you got your own mission? Do tell me about it.
Life is sacred. Cherish not only yours, but others' as well.
Bless All.
posted by JaNuS @ Wednesday, July 19, 2006
