My patient patient.

In a mundane hospital ward
I sat by the window
On my creaking bed
In came a young lady,
In a blue blouse, a stethoscope and a note pad.

"Hello Ma'am, how are you?" she said.
Another medical student, I thought.
A smile so eager, eyes so bright
"Feeling much better today," I replied.

I've had a few of those blessed young souls,
Fervently seeking a piece of my story,
Some a little shy, some downright bold,
The chat we had, kept me company.

Questions asked, answers replied,
"Any chest pain?" "Have you diabetes?"
Answers of which I almost memorized.

I never said no, I never refused
For deep down, I knew
My story is put to good use.

They'll learn, they'll make great doctors, I thought.
With a smile as sweet, heart as warm,
In my weakened health of an 80-year-old, their help, I sought.

"Thank you very much for helping us out," said the young lady, feeling sorry,
"I'm sorry we've been bugging you with the same questions everyday."

The pleasure was all mine indeed.

...

In a mundane hospital ward
I peeked nervously yet hopeful
Searching for a willing patient
A story, to learn, and gain a thing or two.

Patient A looked away,
Avoiding my expectant gaze,
Patient B refused, for she had a few students before me,
There she was, patient C,
Sitting by the bedside, with a welcoming face.

The questions I asked
Were the same thing she's heard a trillion times
By ten different students, almost like a task
But there she was,
Her sweet little self, patient and polite
An exhausted smile, making my stressful day bright.

Whenever I looked back,
From the start of my journey
It is not only Allah, my mom or my dad
It is this group of people I call "patients"
That made this journey even more special.

Every murmur I heard
Every stoma I saw
Every surgery I learnt
Every cannula I failed
It was all thanks to them.

A patient group of people I call "patients."

Alhamdulillah.

The mother of all finals is just 14 days away. Doakan :)