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THE MAKING OF A DOCTOR

 

Dead unseeing eyes lying on cold marble slabs

Unprotesting organs awaiting the touch of the scalpels

Nauseous stench of formalin welcoming you with open arms

Forcing all life’s noble ambitions to flee while self-doubt creeps in.

Urine samples bubbling like a witch’s magical brew

Amoeba in stool made larger than life, flaying their arms

The virgin jab into a vein that bleeds both blood and emotions

The delivery of God’s little creations that makes one feel like God,

Stench of death so overpowering that you feel dead within

Pleading mute eyes begging you for a new lease of life

Agony of watching life slowly ebb out from the fountain of youth

Frustration of knowing you gave it all but failed yet again.

Endless cups of coffee as you plod through voluminous books

Nights spent rushing from bed to bed, sleep a distant fantasy

Days spent curled up in foetal posture too tired to even breath

Life slipping by in a roller coaster of birth and death, hope and despair.

Finally, you step out with the license to kill and the urge to heal

Thrust into the role of the Saviour when you are but a mere mortal

Walking the tightrope between known and unknown, morbidity and mortality

Struggling each day to fulfil one promise, the Hippocrates Oath.

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Written by DOEL

The girl from yesterday

A Letter to Self