Some dreams can be powerful; foundational, ironclad, unshakeable.
Pulling you with them into a new future.
Some dreams can be fragile; ethereal, delicate, flickering.
Whispered into existence, and just as easily turned to dust. 1/
Pulling you with them into a new future.
Some dreams can be fragile; ethereal, delicate, flickering.
Whispered into existence, and just as easily turned to dust. 1/
It’s the 1990s in Upstate NY.
I’m a high school student, volunteering at a hospital.
I’m told it makes me a better candidate for college, but the truth is I just want to see what it’s really like in a hospital ward.
I wear a bright red jacket that says “VOLUNTEER.” 2/
I’m a high school student, volunteering at a hospital.
I’m told it makes me a better candidate for college, but the truth is I just want to see what it’s really like in a hospital ward.
I wear a bright red jacket that says “VOLUNTEER.” 2/
The floor is a general medical unit, and it’s a hive of activity. Dozens of nurses and patient care techs are constantly in motion.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, other than standing out like a bright red sore thumb.
My sweaty hands are clasped together. 3/
I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, other than standing out like a bright red sore thumb.
My sweaty hands are clasped together. 3/
A doctor walks onto the floor, heading straight towards me. I raise my hand as if asking a question in class. Thinking he’ll see me and say, “Ah yes, a volunteer! Follow me, son!”
He makes brief eye contact, then walks past me wordlessly.
I lower my hand.
A nurse smiles. 4/
He makes brief eye contact, then walks past me wordlessly.
I lower my hand.
A nurse smiles. 4/
Her name is Beth. She’s in her late 60s and has been a nurse for twice as long as I’ve been alive.
She’s noticed my attempts at both getting attention and also blending into the background.
She approaches me, “Hi! What’s your name?”
I’m startled to be noticed, “Sayed.” 5/
She’s noticed my attempts at both getting attention and also blending into the background.
She approaches me, “Hi! What’s your name?”
I’m startled to be noticed, “Sayed.” 5/
She has a kind voice, the wrinkles at the edges of her eyes testifying to a lifetime of smiles.
I know she must be ferociously busy, but she takes some time out to introduce me to everyone by name.
I follow her around like a duckling, clinging to my new sense of belonging. 6/
I know she must be ferociously busy, but she takes some time out to introduce me to everyone by name.
I follow her around like a duckling, clinging to my new sense of belonging. 6/
The day passes quickly, a whirlwind of activity I can barely keep up with.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m exhausted, my feet aching.
Beth, in her late 60s, seems just as energetic as when her shift began. As she signs out to her incoming nurse, I regard her in awe. 7/
I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m exhausted, my feet aching.
Beth, in her late 60s, seems just as energetic as when her shift began. As she signs out to her incoming nurse, I regard her in awe. 7/
She must catch my look because she laughs. “Gotta keep up Sayed! Same bat time same bat channel tomorrow!”
I give her a tired thumbs up and a grin, having no idea what bats have to do with it.
My dad explains to me later that it’s a reference to the 1960s Batman TV series. 8/
I give her a tired thumbs up and a grin, having no idea what bats have to do with it.
My dad explains to me later that it’s a reference to the 1960s Batman TV series. 8/
I return the next day with a pep in my step, determined to keep up with Beth.
I fail, miserably. But my feet ache a little less. And I feel a little less out of place, even with my bright red jacket.
I learn how to make a proper hospital bed. How to take vital signs. 9/
I fail, miserably. But my feet ache a little less. And I feel a little less out of place, even with my bright red jacket.
I learn how to make a proper hospital bed. How to take vital signs. 9/
I bring ice water to the patients, and slowly but surely I get to know some of them.
One is from Nigeria, and his eyes light up when I tell him my mom grew up there, in Bauchi and Maiduguri.
The moment of human connection sparks something deep inside me.
A dream whispered. 10/
One is from Nigeria, and his eyes light up when I tell him my mom grew up there, in Bauchi and Maiduguri.
The moment of human connection sparks something deep inside me.
A dream whispered. 10/
The days slowly become weeks and the weeks string together through the Summer.
The staff know me, and trust me enough to handle all sorts of tasks.
Patients know me too, and I’m realizing the blessing of being a lowly volunteer, with all the time in the world to spend. 11/
The staff know me, and trust me enough to handle all sorts of tasks.
Patients know me too, and I’m realizing the blessing of being a lowly volunteer, with all the time in the world to spend. 11/
Patients don’t find me threatening, for the most part. How can they? I look ridiculous, with my bright red jacket that’s clearly too small for me, and my oversized glasses (I was never one for fashion) on my almost perfectly round face.
I’m willing to listen, and they talk. 12/
I’m willing to listen, and they talk. 12/
I’m slowly realizing that the hospital is a sort of lens. A way of distilling life, stripping away much of the excess and focusing in on the highs and lows of the human experience.
My dream is taking shape.
I live for this.
In some way, I will be involved in healthcare. 13/
My dream is taking shape.
I live for this.
In some way, I will be involved in healthcare. 13/
One day Beth sends me to the blood bank to pick up a unit of packed red blood cells (PRBCs in the lingo I’m learning), for transfusion.
The blood bank tech recognizes me. I feel that warm glow of ... usefulness. Like I belong.
Suffused with warmth, I return to the floor. 14/
The blood bank tech recognizes me. I feel that warm glow of ... usefulness. Like I belong.
Suffused with warmth, I return to the floor. 14/
Handing the blood off to Beth, I see that the doctor is there again. I’ve seen him frequently since I started volunteering, and he has yet to speak to me.
I decide to force the issue.
Approaching him as he’s sitting and writing a note, I say hello. He looks up at me. 15/
I decide to force the issue.
Approaching him as he’s sitting and writing a note, I say hello. He looks up at me. 15/
In retrospect, I guess I don’t know what I was expecting.
He looks at me over the rim of his glasses and says, “You want to go into medicine? Don’t. Don’t waste your life, medicine isn’t worth the time and effort. Be smart, do something else.”
He goes back to writing. 16/
He looks at me over the rim of his glasses and says, “You want to go into medicine? Don’t. Don’t waste your life, medicine isn’t worth the time and effort. Be smart, do something else.”
He goes back to writing. 16/
Some dreams can be fragile things; ethereal, delicate, flickering.
Whispered into existence, and just as easily turned to dust.
I feel a visceral impact from his words. It feels like losing a part of me.
I stand there for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. 17/
Whispered into existence, and just as easily turned to dust.
I feel a visceral impact from his words. It feels like losing a part of me.
I stand there for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. 17/
He looks up at me again, “Yes?”
I shake my head, my throat dry. “Nothing.”
I head back to the nursing station, feeling my heart beating in my suddenly hollow chest.
Beth is sitting and writing a nursing note. She smiles up at me and her smile instantly vanishes. 18/
I shake my head, my throat dry. “Nothing.”
I head back to the nursing station, feeling my heart beating in my suddenly hollow chest.
Beth is sitting and writing a nursing note. She smiles up at me and her smile instantly vanishes. 18/
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, “I’ll tell you later.”
And I go back to my work. These small tasks that I’d grown to love, but now seem like they’ve been diminished.
I feel sick.
Like judgment was passed on me, and I was found wanting.
Like an ill-fitting red jacket. 19/
I shake my head, “I’ll tell you later.”
And I go back to my work. These small tasks that I’d grown to love, but now seem like they’ve been diminished.
I feel sick.
Like judgment was passed on me, and I was found wanting.
Like an ill-fitting red jacket. 19/
At the end of the day Beth takes me aside.
The words I’ve been holding in all day spill out of me, as I tell her how disheartened I am.
She nods quietly, listening, before finally speaking.
“Sayed, he’s just one person. One point of view. He’s tired. You see...” 20/
The words I’ve been holding in all day spill out of me, as I tell her how disheartened I am.
She nods quietly, listening, before finally speaking.
“Sayed, he’s just one person. One point of view. He’s tired. You see...” 20/
She continues, “Medicine isn’t easy. It asks a lot of you, perhaps too much sometimes. It can chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful. But it’s not just a constant grind. Medicine is life, humanity, listening to people, and making connections.”
I nod. 21/
I nod. 21/
“So don’t let one person shake your dream. Medicine isn’t for everyone, but I definitely think it’s for you.”
She smiles, and in that moment I realize that I value and respect her opinion so much more than anyone else’s.
My fragile dream is resurrected, and made stronger. 22/
She smiles, and in that moment I realize that I value and respect her opinion so much more than anyone else’s.
My fragile dream is resurrected, and made stronger. 22/
In all the years since then, I’ve often thought back to my first hesitant steps into a hospital, wearing bright red.
I’ve thought about my dream, and how it took shape, and how it then shaped me.
And I’ve remembered those who saved it, and me, when I needed them most. 23/
I’ve thought about my dream, and how it took shape, and how it then shaped me.
And I’ve remembered those who saved it, and me, when I needed them most. 23/
Medicine is many things:
A properly made bed.
A bright red jacket.
A shared connection.
A lingering loneliness.
All the doubts that tie us down, and every dream that sets us free.
A properly made bed.
A bright red jacket.
A shared connection.
A lingering loneliness.
All the doubts that tie us down, and every dream that sets us free.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
