I remember the happiest day of my life. The whole household was in celebration. We distributed sweets to all the neighbours and we invited all our relatives to share the good news. The farmer's daughter managed to get a seat in one of the most prestigious colleges in the state. I was to be the first doctor from my family. No, correct that. The first doctor from my village. I remember my father's proud eyes looking at me, making me feel like a little girl again who finished learning to recite her first nursery rhyme. My father whose entire life revolved around giving me an education and making me find my place in this world. As I gazed into his sun worn face, I remember something he told me once when I was small. Your mother died giving birth to you because there were no doctors in our village at the time. That's why you should respect doctors. They are ordinary people who do extraordinary things. I made a silent promise to myself. I would be the best doctor I could possibly can.
I remember the hardest days of my life. Studying late at night. Trying to learn as much as possible, it was a. Struggle which I enjoyed because I knew that the harder I fought, the stronger I would become. I remember when my father gave me a surprise visit and he caught me just as I came back after posting, still wearing my apron. The expression on his face is something that I'll never forget. It was a mixture of raw pride and happiness that made every cell in my body glow in joy. I'm sure astronauts would have spotted me from the moon. But there was also a tinge of sadness, and I later found out that he only regretted that my mother wasn't around to see me.
My father passed away shortly after I graduated. He died a happy man, surrounded by family and friends. Before he left my hand and join my mother into the great adventure awaiting them, he told me something I nearly missed. Remember me in every smile your patients give you. I will, father. I will.
For many years I worked towards that goal. I worked with a devil's frenzy and an angel's grace. Every smile was like a golden coin I greedily collected. I didn't want money. The smile was the only thing I wanted, to make my father live again in their eyes.
I remember the night it all changed. There was a bus accident. A lot of casualties and many more injured. There was a small boy whose injuries were too grave for me to do anything. Half his torso was crushed in and there was definite cerebral hemorrage.There was literally nothing I could do. The medical officer in charge told me to tend to the other victims who had a chance to be healed. A man with a broken arm caught me and yelled at me, asking me to do something and pointed angrily at the child. I tried to comfort him and make him understand that it was beyond me, but he pushed my hand aside and gave me such a venomous look that it frightened me. Even after I turned away from him and rushed to the other victims, I felt his hateful gaze, like a deadly snake gliding over poisoned waters.
They say that your life flashes in front of your eyes in the last seconds of your life. Its true. I'm lying down in the parking lot of my hospital next to my destroyed car. The glass pieces glitter the sunlight and cast beautiful rainbows into my eyes. My apron, which I remember wearing with pride when I started the wonderful journey of becoming a doctor, is now torn and tattered, drenched in blood. My breathing is short and shallow as I take in the sweet April air. My stethoscope is crushed beyond recognition and splintered. Somehow that makes me feel sad. The pain comes in an intensity that makes me want to howl like an animal. I felt like a paper boat tossed into a raging river of pain and blood. As my vision slowly fades, I collect my last thoughts, I think of all the smiles I collected during my profession, all the thanks and praises. But in spite of all that, all it took was one look of hate. It was all a mistake of circumstance. How could I be blamed for this? How could I be punished? But all these feelings of anger and despair wash away like cobwebs in the wind. I can hear sirens approach me and the sound of people shouting from the hospital and I can hear my colleagues rush toward me. But ironically, I'm in the same condition as the boy was last night. There's nothing that can be done to save me. Before I slip into the void that awaits us all, I smile as best as I can. It would be strange, considering the painful way I died, but my father was right. Doctors are ordinary people who do extraordinary things. I have no regrets. None.
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