Recently, I’ve been genuinely, deeply happy.
I found myself scrolling through my camera roll, hoping to find something worth sharing, only to realise there were hardly any photos at all.
Perhaps that’s because the moments that have stayed with me couldn’t really be photographed.
When I first started clinical placement, I resisted it. I dreaded talking to strangers and wondered whether patient care was really where I belonged.
Now I find myself quietly looking forward to meeting each new person who walks through the door.
Some patients have told me they felt unexpectedly calm during treatment. Others have shared words of kindness that I know I will remember for a very long time.
This week, I also said goodbye to a patient whose course of care had come to an end.
As we walked towards the exit together, they paused and asked,
“Will I see you again?”
I smiled and admitted that I didn’t know.
Perhaps this was the last time we would ever meet.
We thanked each other.
We said goodbye.
To my surprise, I felt a deep sense of reluctance to let go.
Somewhere along the way, I had quietly formed a connection with every patient I met.
I listened to stories of joy, pride, disappointment, and hope. I learned about the small things that made each person themselves. Some loved reading. Some enjoyed lying in the sun. Some couldn’t walk past a cat or dog without stopping.
Each of them carried a life that felt quietly warm and wonderfully alive.
Because caring for patients also means protecting their stories, I can only ever describe these encounters in broad strokes. The details that carry the most warmth will remain where they belong: in my memory.
Only they know me.
Only I know them.
There is something quietly beautiful about that.
Last weekend, I went to Zhou Shen’s concert.
"我们呼吸狂奔相爱支撑。"
That lyric stayed with me all week.
"We breathe, we run, we love, we hold one another up."
Savouring the smallest moments of resonance, and the love that moves me most.