Chapter 7.2 - Climbing the stairs

Exactly two weeks have passed since I'm back at the vet school. Technically speaking, knowing one semester has 16 weeks. Minus two for end-of-sem exams and minus another two for study breaks, we only have 12 teaching weeks! so I'm left with 10 teaching weeks. (: How comforting.

I'm beginning to see it. The amount of sacrifices and hard work behind that smiling face of a veterinarian at the clinic or hospital. Five years worth of knowledge and surgical skills earns you that Bachelor of Veterinary Medicine and Surgery (Bsc, BVMS to be exact) and then we all start off as a lowly fresh graduate. Honestly speaking, that degree doesn't give you anything much, it more or less, adds on a whole new level of responsibilities and moral values.

At times, when I wake up in the middle of nights, staring at the clock which reads 3:xx or 4:xx.

"... another couple of hours to go!" then falls back to sleep.

I see an imminent problem. I need to learn to stop thinking, for that few minutes whenever I want it to be. It's really a bad thing, when your mind can't seem to not process any thoughts, even on a Sunday afternoon. Though there's no limit to how much memory the brain can store, but, still. !

*******

2 days ago, which was a Friday night. Was talking to dad on msn, late into the night. Was about 12midnight...

Dad, "Got to go. work tomorrow."

me, "huh?! work, tmr? saturday eh. How long?"

Dad, "8.30-5pm"

me, "okay. gogo. goodnight."

Dad, "Bye."

It hurts, again, to know all that he's going through, all that he's put in, for his children. While I'm quietly studying in the library on a Saturday afternoon, with little (relative, and subjective) worries, he's elsewhere, everyday, just giving that little push to earn the extra dollar, not for himself, but for me.

He always tells me my studies is my priority, money isn't. When I was younger, I always believed money came from the sky, and dad could always buy me things which I want, and which would have some form of entertainment or educational purposes. I looked at how circumstances have changed, and I know it's not fair for him to be working so hard. What if: one day, he's down because all that late nights everyday has taken a toll on him? What ifs. all that. There're too much what ifs.

Yes, I don't have to be too concerned with all that 'what ifs', because I see each day as a gift, and count my blessings. But still, studies aside, dad, I will do my part. to lighten that burden, at least. Can't help but this thought never leaves the back of my mind. It's painful. and of course, there're so many other things we have to manage, be it daily, or part of the planning process for the future.

I guessed. Everyone have their own painful blob that hangs around somewhere, at the back of the cerebrum in the brain. It is there, and so we live with it, and manage it everyday, to lessen the pain. It's synonymous to stress - never let it build up. One day, that built-up will explode.

taking a step at a time... gaining back my inspiration.