It’s that time of year again. Nope, not Christmas, New Year, or even Summer. Its the time when we have to write our personal statement. I finally feel settled in this new normal of online school, wearing masks while going out for exercise, subconsciously avoiding other humans, or feeling all the days blur into one long, dreary day..week..month?

Quarantine has given us a lot of time to think. I always wanted more time to decide what I want to do with my life, because making that huge decision alongside exams, tests and school – it’s difficult. But, it’s like the world forcefully shoved us into our homes and said “you said you need more time? Here’s all the time you can have.” It’s a weird freedom, and it’s difficult to separate whether you should use this time to rejuvenate because you’ll never get this much free-time again, or whether you should be the most productive you’ve ever been in your life, because, well, you’ll never get this much free-time again.

So, I’ve been thinking about what I’d want to do with my life, and I think I’ve finally decided. I’ve been doing this dance, going back and forth on my decision on whether or not I’d want to do medicine. The job itself seems appealing, but once you’ve settled down. Having your clinic, having people come to you, and build a relationship – that work seems fulfilling and satisfying to me. I know I cannot work in an office all day, wondering what I’m ACTUALLY doing with my life, knowing that my work isn’t directly making someone else’s life better. I know I want to go into a healthcare profession, something along the lines of being a doctor, if not actually becoming one. I think I do have the skills to become a doctor: I care about people, I love the human body, and I want to learn more. But being a doctor is so much more than that – it’s dealing with death, high-pressure situations, weird bodily fluids, and long, cruel hours. How do you know that you have what it takes? Thinking about these things, it excites me, because it pushes me. But it also frightens me.

I always think back to that time in Desaru. I couldn’t sleep well the whole night. I kept drifting in and out of uncomfortable slumber, feeling more tired when I would wake up. I suddenly felt my mother shake me awake: “girls? Wake up.. Papa isn’t feeling well.” I instantly felt sick but I followed her upstairs to my parents’ room, fumbling on the stairs in the dark. My dad was laying down on the bed, pale and groaning from discomfort. My sister immediately took charge of the admin work under my mother’s instructions – calling the hotel staff for a doctor (WHICH THEY DIDN’T HAVE!?!) and I got some sugar, and water for him. He apparently had fainted in the bathroom – while trying to go the bathroom – and I was trying to figure out why. I searched up the symptoms and the context and realised it wasn’t too serious (I know a google diagnosis is dangerous, but spoiler alert: I was right) and I asked him to keep his feet up so the blood could circulate to his brain. It was a weird, terrifying, out-of-body experience, but it was satisfying seeing the color slowly come back to his face, to see him talking and finally, arguing that he didn’t need a doctor (classic!).

Atleast I have some sort of idea of what type of profession I want to go into, atleast, a much clearer idea than what I had a year ago when I was writing this. Perhaps I just need time. Just like the HL Psychology decision dawned on me as the most obvious thing one morning, I hope this decision too will become crystal clear sooner rather than later.