Beyond the Mountains and Ricefields
You’ve always wanted to become a doctor.
When you were younger, the idea of being a doctor was parallel to that of being a hero; being able to save lives and to help those who are truly in need. So you spend your childhood playing with your toy stethoscope and you pretend to treat your stuffed animals because you feel good about being their hero; you feel good knowing that one day, you’ll be the hero of real people, serving for the good of humanity.
As you grow older, the altruistic purpose is lost, and is replaced by the desire for something greater, whether it’s the money, the adrenaline rush, or the feeling of having to hold another person’s life in your hands, the feeling of pride and power. And so you go into medical school, strap yourself in because you know you’re in for one hell of a ride, and at the end of that journey, if you’re well-prepared and determined, you’ll be able to affix those two letters at the end of your name—those two most coveted letters that you have bled, cried and perspired for. Getting hold of the MD title is one thing, but having to live for your purpose is another. And so you spend the rest of your days deprived of sleep, working in the hospital, counting the number of times you’ve cut open a patient for surgery, or writing down countless prescriptions and finally getting to pay for your very own car and you think, ‘yes, this is me living the dream’. Or is it? You have that nagging feeling like something’s missing. You rack your brain thinking, what else could possibly be missing? And then it hits you. You want more. But what is ‘more’? What could be greater than all this? Then you look back and remember your stuffed-animal patients and that dream of becoming a hero, serving humanity one auscultation at a time.
Your alarm rings.
You wake up and you realize today is the day you submit your application for medical school. You realize you’ve just had an epiphany. And more importantly, you realize, you still have time to find that true ‘more’—the true essence of becoming a doctor. You just have to make that choice.
Every person who has ever dreamt of becoming a doctor has his or her own reason for wanting to become one. It could be the money, the power, the thirst for knowledge and rewards, but ultimately, every person who has ever dreamt of becoming a doctor would always have a burning desire to serve—to become a hero in his own right, to become a physician for God and for others. We go into medical school with the purpose of equipping ourselves for the fulfillment of our dreams. We spend sleepless nights reading until our heads explode, and from there we learn to diagnose and manage patients. We go to medical school to learn how to become good doctors. Or do we? Where and how does the greater purpose fit in the preparations we gain in medical school?
It was only a couple of weeks ago when it hit me. It was when we had visitors in our school who asked us, ‘what makes you different from other medical students?’ I didn’t really know much about other medical schools, but I knew we had a different curriculum from theirs. And so I thought, ‘well yes, we are different because we learn through problem-based learning”. But was that enough to make us especially different from them? Was that really the edge that Ateneo de Zamboanga University School of Medicine had over the rest? And then it hit me. Our school is dedicated to pursuing that greater purpose—they are dedicated in molding physicians for others by sending their students and graduates to far-flung communities that are in great need of not only medical help, but also of growth and development in all aspects of life. By putting student doctors in these communities, they create a two-way road of development—the communities benefit from the students’ interventions while the students benefit by finding their true purpose by serving the community. By creating these mutually beneficial relationships, AdZU-SOM seeks to help solve the health problems of the region AND produce doctors that are not only good in what they do, but also have the heart to do so. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes our school different from others.
Now before you think that I just sold you a load of bull, let me share the real deal through my point of view. Before anything else, yes, I was THAT child who dreamt of becoming a doctor because I wanted to serve the needy and help others. I was THAT kid who had stuffed-animal patients and a toy stethoscope. Sadly, I am also THAT person who grew up wanting to become a doctor but having to change my reasons for wanting to do so. As I grew up, I lost my altruistic purpose as well. I saw medicine as an avenue to make a living, a job that will make me able to provide for my family and to have power, to be above others, to be respected. I wanted to become a doctor for self-gain, for self-love. And so when I went into medical school and found out that I had to spend an entire month in a far-flung community every semester, you could imagine how displeased I was. Why on earth would I want to do that? But of course I had no choice. I saw this as a minor glitch that I had to endure just so I could graduate. I told myself, tiisin mo lang, para matupad pangarap mo. You could just imagine how hard it was for me to leave the comforts of home, travelling for 8 hours, living with seven other people in some unknown place with no internet, no comfortable bed, no guarantee of safety, and did I mention no internet? But I knew I just had to suck it up—I knew I’d hate this experience but I just had to bear with it.
I was wrong. You see, in just one month, I did leave the comforts of home, travelled for 8 hours, lived with seven other people in a place that’s hardly on the map and slept on a mattress that was just an inch thick and had no internet or signal, but you know what? I loved it. I left my home in Zamboanga but I found a new one in Barangay DCM, Municipality of Mahayag, with a new family made up of seven other brilliant people, who I shared sardines, rashes and endless laughs with. I had no signal for calls and texts but I had the best line of communication with the people around me. My signal for service and compassion had full bars on it, and having to reach out to 400 families, asking them about their problems and helping them find solutions, can never be replaced by 1000 Facebook friends, or 700 Instagram followers. It didn’t matter if my mattress was just an inch thick, because I knew a hundred other people in the community slept on the floor, stayed on homes that didn’t even have enough space to fit their entire family. I couldn’t complain about how dirty my shoes would get or how dark my complexion would be if I walked through the rice field when farmers there would walk barefoot under the scorching sun just to provide for their families. I couldn’t whine about how the water I was drinking wasn’t ice-cold, when the people in the community couldn’t even afford safe drinking water. I saw how hard life was, and I saw how contented people were with the little that they had. I saw the bigger picture and I learned these not through textbooks, but with my own eyes. No medical book could ever teach you how to put yourselves in other peoples’ shoes, and I didn’t have to open Google to find out the true meaning of service. It was then that I had gained back my altruistic purpose; I wanted to help these people. I wanted to serve them. I wanted to be their hero. Remember how hard it was for me to leave home? Well it was just as hard to go back. Somehow, a piece of me, a piece of every member of our team would always be in Barangay DCM. We want change for them, we want them to be self-reliant and self-fulfilled. Because I know that in their fulfillment, we shall also find ours as well.
So if someone asked me now, given the opportunity, would I go to a different medical school? Do I still think that community exposure is a curse? The answer is no. Because I do genuinely believe in ADZU-SOM’s mission, and I do believe that through the school I can be a good better doctor. ADZU-SOM has and will help me find my true purpose, the ‘more’ that I desperately seek. Those ideals based on self-gain and self-love that I had back then have now been surpassed by ideals of love and service for others. The school continually molds us to become doctors who have the passion and the heart to serve, and the humility to do so. We are trained to see the bigger picture, to see life outside of the hospital and beyond the mountains and rice fields. We are trained to be heroes in a larger scale and for a bigger purpose.
Would I go back after I graduate? YES. Not because I’m required to, but because I want to.
I have always wanted to become a doctor.
And as I struggle with the madness that is medical school, I am comforted with knowing that at the end of the day, I have and I will find my true ‘more’. I have made my choice.
blog post by: Ching Almonte-Domingo
