That would be my daddy. He is directly responsible for creating me and indirectly responsible for the creation of this blog.
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Tags: Birthday, Commando Comics, Daddy's Girl, Newsletter
Today is Dad’s birthday. He is no longer here. I don’t know for sure if he is aware that I am doing this. It doesn’t matter though. I feel good about the idea of this blog because through it, I can do something that Dad suggested to me when I was in college years ago.
In my earliest career avatar, I was a Registered Nurse. As a child of around 7, I declared I was going to become a “stomach surgeon” when I grew up. Back then, I didn’t even spell it correctly. A few years ago, I found a school essay in which I wrote I wanted to become a “stomach sergeant”. I know who was responsible for that spelling. Daddy. He used to read Commando comics and war story novels. For as long as I can remember, what Daddy did, I did. That’s how I decided to become a “sergeant”. But what I really meant was ‘surgeon’. I liked the idea of operating on people’s stomachs (again, I meant the abdomen; not the stomach itself) because in my young mind, that was a way to rid people of whatever ailed them medically.
Forward a few years, and I didn’t make it to med school because I absolutely hated Organic Chemistry, did not attend any of those classes in pre-med and did not attempt studying it on my own either. (Are you kidding me? *snort*) I was too young to realise the almost immediate (a year later) fallout of that classic, teenage, rebellious attitude. Bye bye, Med School. I was crushed. But Dad was secretly pleased. He did not want me to become a doctor because of the rough working hours. He nudged me towards nursing school because of the more regular working hours. And he told me that I’d still get to make people better by assisting in surgery. Hello Nursing School!
Seeing the compassionate streak in me grow and become more evident, Dad gently suggested quite a few times that I should start a nurses’ agency of sorts upon graduation. One that would admit registered nurses and then, train them not to lose focus of the powerful position they were in when it came to easing the mind. I could teach my companions how to assist patients banish their anxieties and fears, and instill hope and strength. But I wasn’t interested. I wanted to be with patients. Right through my nursing career, too, I did not think about training other nurses because it would take me away from bedside nursing, which is what I loved. I deferred promotions for the same reason, too, because a promotion invariably meant moving away from bedside care to administrative work, which I came to like later on, but still not as much as being hands-on with my patients.
Fast forward a few years and a few careers in a few countries.
From the time I left home, I wrote to my folks and my friends regularly. Wrote, as in with pen and paper. In 1997, I got my first e-mail address. I began writing via e-mail. Having no restriction of space, I wrote and wrote and wrote. To more and more and more people I knew. I was always particular about the importance of personal attention, so I refrained from mass e-mails until strangely enough, Dad passed away.
I was on holiday in another country at the time and unreachable because of the altitude I was at at the time. So I couldn’t make it home for the funeral. I came to terms with not being there for the funeral a month after Daddy’s passing. And then, I decided to tell my friends who did not know yet. It was far too tiring to even think of mailing a little over 20 friends individually. That’s when I decided to write a common e-mail informing my friends about Daddy.
That mail I sent out will be my next post.