Saturday, 11 June 2011
Silent Panic
He was so tiny and so very fragile and yet I see them forcing a catheter right into his nose and all the way into his throat. They said it was to help make him feel better. It looks like they only wanted to suck the life out of him. He turned all red and tried to scream his lungs out but there was not even a whimper to be heard. All I see and hear is him suffering. I felt his pain, I wanted to cry with him, I wanted to make them stop, I wanted to protect him and carry him in my arms but that wasn't professional. What does being professional exactly mean? That I should lose my feelings and turn numb? That I should feel nothing when I hear someone lost their loved ones the night before when I was away feeling all good and happy with my own loved ones? The more I get to know what I've got myself into, the more I panic silently. Nobody hears me. I'm afraid to tell it out loud simply because I'm always convincing myself that I made the right choice. The truth is, I'm not afraid anymore. I've got the courage now to be true to myself. To tell myself that this is not what I really wanted. To calm myself down and feel at ease, at peace. The problem now is.. where do I go from here? Isn't it too late.?
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