I'd like you to imagine a glob of mincemeat on a sophisticated dining plate with two googly, but hollowed out eyes staring up at you. Creepy.
I had become creepy looking. I looked like a vagabond, a truant at the side of the road, a scaredy mice. A failure.
My eyes looked dead to me. I'd often be reminded of my hobbies that included story writing, painting, sketching, sewing, blogging, playing sports.
Thinking about these things would almost drive me to quit medicine and instead run after the things that I enjoyed most.
But I couldn't.
Because helping people out was more important to me. I wanted to help people out of their pains, especially the poor ones. This little but strong thought kept me going until I reached my final year.
This is the thought that still keeps me going no matter how hard the going gets.
I knew that the tough get going.
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