Around the corner, I heard a soft, but labored, panting.
Curious, I walked into my patient’s room to find him breathing rapidly. I took his vital signs: blood pressure was a little high, pulse ok, temperature ok. His respirations were fast, but his oxygen saturation was 100%.
Normally, when I call a doctor to report a patient’s worsening condition, I’m ahead of the game. If my patient’s short of breath, I hook them up to oxygen. If they have ‘as needed’ medications available, I give them. If he’s aspirating (choking on fluids), I raise the
head of the bed, I shove a yankauer in their mouth and suction the crap
But this time, I was empty handed. Continue reading
Spring in Boston. 2017.
Tucked into the front pocket of my scrubs, I carried a fresh, blank notebook and pen for scribbling notes and responsibilities.
“Welcome,” my coworkers greeted. “Glad to have you here.”
“Thanks, I’m happy to be here.” But hiding behind my toothy smile, my knees were shaking, like a new student on the first day of class. Continue reading
Hello, dear friends, it’s been awhile. As you might have noticed, I took a blogging break this past year, but I’m striving to restart blogging again this new year. For now, let’s recap 2017! Continue reading
2016, when God did “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.” (Ephesians 3:20)
I know it’s already February, but it was a big year. Let’s recap! Continue reading
Spring 2016. BIG news, the beginning of a new season of our lives…
A few quotes from my patients over the course of the last several months…
patient #1: “Whoa. You’re finally gaining some weight. You look good, stay this way!”
patient #2: “Aiyah.. Your face got fat!”
patient #3: “Look at you.. now did you swallow a watermelon or what?” Continue reading
“Are you John?” I asked, walking into the room.
“Nope. Wrong patient, that’s not me,” he wore a dull, flat expression.
The corners of his mouth crept upwards into a sheepish grin. His gray hair peeked out from his US Army Veteran cap. Continue reading
When the sun sets in Cambodia… (2005)
In honor of Father’s Day, a conversation with Ba.
Sept. 13, 2006
~ ~ ~
Deep, navy sky surrounded us. Only the reflection of the moon and a peep of light gleamed from inside the house.
“Ba, do you want the light on?” I asked. To keep the house smelling new (and less likewhat we’re eating), we always grilled and fried all our food outdoors.
“It’s okay,” he replied. Blue flames danced underneath the wok. He poured in the oil to coat the bottom of the pan.
How can you see what you’re cooking? I wondered. But I didn’t say anything, just watched my dad as he worked his magic. His wrist moved the spatula around like a magician’s wand, evenly browning each piece of garlic.
“During the Khmer Rouge… it was just like this. Every night, you do what you can, by the light of the moon. No other light. That’s it,” Ba began.
I envisioned my dad fleeing through the black night of Cambodia, escaping death. No compass. No map. No directions. Only the sun, the moon, and a heart destined for freedom. How did he survive? How on earth did he make it here, alive? Continue reading