Choices. The good and the bad. Sometimes they bring us to our knees, at times they’ll brush us up like Vitamin C.

Life is full of choices. I mean, to every single detail, we need to decide. You pant on what color shirt you’d like wear to make a statement, or should I go for a swim&tan or just a swim will do. I think, I will not turn on the light this time while I play the PSP. Irregular. Passive.

Choices are like… lotions. There’s so many different purposes to which a certain can derive. There’s oil control, active moisturising, then there’s active sun-blocking. Heck, even skin tightening. You choose and decide on which lotion you’d like to use on days that are forthcoming. Confused. Sedate.

I take 250mg of Vitamin C daily. Something my mom and the entire healthcare profession advocates to boost the immune system. Besides, anything more will just be flushed down each time you visit the throne and leak. Then again, you’d choose if there’s a need for double dosage when you’re tired or feeling rather sickly. But will it make a difference? Tonic. Clonic.

Life uncertainties are completely out of my spectrum of impulsation, my comprehension. I salute those who make right choices daily. Yet i’m sure they’ve made a whole lot of bad ones before. Experimental. Decisive cloning.

It’s 3pm and on my only day off for the week i’ve made a choice. To stay at home and relax. Pump in the C’s and forego the E’s. The sun will wait, my health won’t. Work. Health. Sickening. Basket.

Still, I have not decided. I cannot imagine the entirety of this emaculation. I cannot stand still, I can’t choose. I need to. I’m hungry.

Should I have ice-cream for lunch?

Should I?

What do nurses do when it’s reaching Christmas and New Year seasons, but don’t have the luxury to celebrate? They have an in-hospital party!

First, they decorate the hospital.

Then, they decorate themselves. Wearing what they will never get to put on at work.

And their Nursing Directors and party planning committees

Then they dance

And dance

And dance…

Then they eat, eat, and eat…

What do they do when the party is coming to an end?

They take pictures

 Enjoy the least of all species in this profession

They glitter with pride of all their achievements

They accept one another

And accept more than the other

So what do they do when the party is over?

They eat again.

A relative asked me a week ago on how do I emotionally cope with all the critical situations and deaths that seem to encircle the ICU. Before I could respond to that, another said, ‘No-lah, they are used to it. It’s just a job to them.’

I smiled and walked away.

I’ve always been afraid of being too cold, or numb over the fact that I see deaths almost everyday. In fact, I thought I am in that state of mind after being questioned of my emotional standing. But then again…

‘… Don’t stop CPR! Where’s the vasopressin? Start him on 1mg/hr infusion! Make sure you’re bagging correctly! Adrenaline stat! Saturation is dropping… Asystole. Compressions! Switch, switch! Noradrenaline in 2 mikes! Make sure the Dopa and the Dobute is at 20 mikes! Bicarb, load him with bicarb! Up the vasopressin, Dopa at 30. Adrenaline again! CPR…’

We did all we could. We tried, tried our very best. It just didn’t happen.

1-long hour. My arm hurts, my fingers are cut, my shoulder seems dislocated, and my back…oh my back.

It only took me 2 months in ICU to get the hang of handling these emergencies. 18 months in the ICU and I still am silent when it comes to breaking the news.

How do you explain to a mother that it’s time to let him go? How do you tell the sister who has hopes for a speedy recovery? What do you do when they shout saying, ‘Don’t give up! The doctors have, but you musn’t. You must live!’

I’m not in that state of mind. I’m not cold.

But the only thing that we can say, is the most cliche of all things. Yet, I’m still silent…

‘I’m sorry, we did all we could.’