Farmer's Wife

Tonight, as I was midway through my second to the last duty as first year Cardiology fellow, I chanced upon one of my most venerable consultants. It was already 11PM, and he was just stepping out of the elevator, about to start his evening rounds. He's not a heart doctor, but he does deal with another vital organ of the body - the kidneys. He probably has 30 or so patients in this hospital alone, since he is known for his novel ways of treatment, and so he's the top nephrologist in this side of town, handling all cases, from the most banal to the most profound. He is a diminutive guy, almost balding, with an explosive temper and an uncanny sense of humor - attributes which, added to his sheer genius, make him one of the most lovable and adorable consultants around.

I always have great awe and admiration for this doctor. Indeed, to even ambition to reach his stature is too much, getting even half his genius is way too out of my league. But I sure don't want to end up like him.

I want to go home every night to a family. I want to cook dinner for a husband and a brood of nasty little ones. I don't want to make rounds in a lonely and sterile hospital at midnight, sneaking only to my bed to get a couple hours worth of sleep. I want to be in all family dinners and intimate gatherings and kids' Christmas plays and my husband's basketball games. All I really want to be is a farmer's wife. Seven years of medical education, 4 years of residency training, and 3 years of fellowship - and all I really want to do is live in a farm by the beach with a brood of noisy but God-fearing kids and a nice husband who adores me.

I'm not kidding. Oh boy, I'm dead serious.

But that dream, just like my meal of galunggong, is so hard to come by. Oh well...

Whatever will be, will be. Obladi oblada life goes on bra, la la, how the life goes on...