Through the sliding door of my balcony, I could vaguely make up the few buildings and the street lights lighting up the streets. A thick dense layer of fog blanket the surrounding, it reminds me of the English weather. It is the end of another year, and whilst many cringe on the year-end reflection and new year resolution bull****, I welcome them. I tell myself this is so that I have a better sense of what went well and what went wrong, how I can do better next year, what mistakes to avoid. You see, if I don’t write them down, I’ll never make myself think about them, or remember them if I did. The mind has a way to cut corners and avoid painful thoughts. Admitting to mistakes is one of such painful thought. But- it must be done, and thus here I am, sitting in the living room, about to plunge myself into the deep pool of memories, with the electronic dance mix on Spotify and the low humming of the heater as background noise.

The first half of the year went by so quickly, I hardly remembered what happened. All I remembered was brother’s wedding around this time last year, and then I was in the ICU in March when I found out about grandma’s sudden passing towards the end of rotation. And so I made my way back home for the second time in 3 months. That pain of losing someone near and dear to heart is unspeakable. How do you utter in words what it feels like to have lost a piece of you; how do you deal with such loss internally and externally? How does one carry oneself amongst one’s colleagues, friends, and family? Do I show that I’m sad, baring my emotions with no holds barred; or do I keep a tough front so as to not make others feel uncomfortable; or do I balance a bit of both? Was it partially my fault for not being close by to take care of grandma when she needed me the most? I couldn’t shake the thought of me being here taking care of other people’s loved ones, and yet was completely helpless when it comes to my own. I felt guilty, and ashamed. I’d like very much to mourn silently, but the unspoken sadness weighed me down so much that everything was beginning to feel like a drag. If it weren’t for the few close friends whom I was able to talk to, it’d have taken me a longer time to be ‘normal’ again.

Everything else was a blur after I got back. I will admit- there were chunks of time that were blank to me. I don’t remember much, probably because they were spent in front of the flat screen. There were days or nights that I find myself crippled in bed, unable to drag self out to do anything at all. I wanted time to stop. Just pause for a few while I gather myself together. I don’t recall how I did it. It was probably out of necessity. I couldn’t afford to miss work, and so I did the bare minimum to get by. I had one too many migraines, I have other health issues I need to tend to but keep putting them off. I just wasn’t doing what I needed to be doing.

Started off third year of residency with a bang–in the ICU! I loved my time in the Unit. Never a dull moment. Whereas I used to feel heavy-hearted for losing patients, it stopped bothering me anymore. Not like it used to anyway. It does make me a little wistful, knowing I’ve been a little hardened by all of it. I had some reflections on my encounters in the Unit in my last 2 years, some of them still saved as drafts here. Perhaps some day I’ll share. For now though, I’m just glad I’m not ‘burned out’.

I think, this year I had too much ice cream and chips (too much junk food in general), spent too much time on media in all forms, didn’t read enough fiction to nurture my soul, didn’t run enough, didn’t take enough care of myself, didn’t call home often enough. 2 people I knew passed away this year. Mortality has never felt more real. I am reminded of the fact that tomorrow is not a guarantee. Why then am I behaving as if I have all the time in the world?! Having said that, I don’t mean to sound like I’m dissatisfied with how this year turned out. I do have plenty to be thankful for, and I will always carry that gratitude with me everywhere I go. It’s a blessing to have friends whom I trust and rely on, to have people who invite me into their homes on holidays, and most of all, to have the privilege to take care of my patients. It’s been a good year, just a little bittersweet.

I won’t make a list of resolutions, but I will say this- next year I will put in more effort in family, friends (near or afar), and my own health. Next year it’s about trimming the frills, keeping it simple, and working on only the most important things to me.

Happy new year everyone! May this coming year and decade be everyone’s best yet!