PHC... and me

I fear sometimes to do something that others don’t… to be an intern that others don’t expect. I’m not a heroine, a Hercules… a fearless monster with extraordinary strength. I’m a normal human, fragile many times due to some unknown inflammation… who’s unable to give up something that her mind calls as being honest to her job! And my job is to be an intern on a way of being a capable independent physician… I must and must do the things and to use the sources as what a good and ideal physician does. I feel there’s nothing wrong in me to wish to expose myself to the extremes of medical practice.

I’m not a studious medico kid who prefers thick stereotyped books over the live experiences in the hospital. I’m not a time saver kid running before the clock to have one more MCQ paper solved in a day’s 24 hours. I run behind the experiences… I just can’t refuse to go to the incomparable monthful of experience of attending a PHC… no matter what and where the PHC is, no matter even if it’ll cost me my hours and make me to travel by bus everyday for a month… My friends tell me, then yell on me, then beg me for not doing this- to break trend of escaping PHC service with the shining notes with Mahatma Gandhi imprinted on it… then they give up and I’m left alone to express my fear to this dead machinely computer screen. The clerk in District Healthscience office doesn’t like me, and I get the PHC far far away from where I live. And then I’m left in complete darkness about the status of it… whether I’ll encounter a live human there or whether there’ll be a big rusted lock telling me some corrupted tragedy… and I feel I’m not prepared to face it. Still I’m going there without knowing the outcome… tensed…. I wish how happy it would be if everything were normal, uncorrupted, like something in my sweet dream world. But this isn’t the dream world and I crave for some live hand on my shoulder telling me that what I’m doing isn’t wrong… I know I’m not wrong.
Let me see what is there…