2 years ago, I had walked into ward 24. Terrified. Every day I had to walk to ward 24, I wished my footsteps would take me further away from that place rather than towards it.
I had felt trapped. I had felt scrutinised. I thought that even if I were to scream, no one would hear me in ward 24. Or even if they did hear me, they’d look elsewhere and pretend they didn’t hear me.
I had felt small and insignificant. Like I didn’t exist even though there was always someone there. They were there. They were important. I however, was not.
I felt I knew nothing. I stupidly asked what bisphosphonates were. I was judged and ridiculed. Not obviously of course. Subtlety kills faster though.
I felt like I was living in a shadow that extended far beyond anything I could ever fill.
I had found every corner where I could hide and cry. I had nearly passed out, I had the worst birthday in the history of my life….
In ward 24.
Today, I was called to ward 24. Everyone turned around and looked at me. They were expecting me. They needed my help and my advice. I was a doctor. I had the knowledge. They all smiled and talked to me. They listened when I spoke. I solved their problem. It wasn’t a big problem, but I was there, and I solved it.
I walked around ward 24. Where I stood and where I sat. I could remember everything clearly. But the memories didn’t haunt me. I was able to smile. I looked at every place I had cried, and I smiled.
I can smile.
If nothing else, if I’m not really even that knowledgeable or experienced,
I can at least be so incredibly grateful,
That I am no longer the person I was when I had first walked into ward 24
