beyond the green hills

It’s not easy being green, in this fast-food instantaneous day and age, where everyone wants money, status, and results immediately and at the expense of someone else. Simple respect, politeness and concern is like the height of modern day altruism. And at the end of the day, it’s all thrown out like common trash, not even worthy of recycling.

But this picture was taken after my night shift.

Since my placement days until working as a temp student nurse, from the day I finally signed my contract to this very day, I’ve worked here on and off for almost 6~7 years. Being a foreigner in my family home, I was going to bring home all the nice qualities of a true Canadian, being too polite for my own good. I aspired to be an experienced and knowledgeable nurse, and I was going to kind and serve my community to the best of my ability, and when I learnt enough I’ll apply for médecins sans frontières (MSF) and serve those that had no access to medical care. Yeah dream on, retard.

But the tigers come at night,
with their voices soft as thunder,
as they tear your hopes apart,
as they turn your dreams to shame.

Life has killed the dream I dreamed.

I tried. Honestly, I did. No, the burn out wasn’t merely the workload, nor the difficult patients, and any sane and humane nurse has probably met a few patients that especially stood out and touched their hearts in a way that still tingles when thinking back. I took all those in stride. What bothered me, was deeper would chew at me inside out. It stressed me to a point I couldn’t sleep without waking every hour through the night. I tried to maintain my smiling bubbly persona, but I’m dying inside.

I went off on a far tangent. The green hills bErin’s our hospital and sea view from some of the staff quarters are a magnificant sight. I was drawn by the varying shades of green that covered this hill, but it’s beauty cannot be thoroughly enjoyed through the caged dusty panes.

Like this hospital, it may be a wonderful place to work in terms of familiarity and workload, but one just cannot appreciate it when in their daily work they see no appreciation.

Like this land, well known as the “concrete jungle” (石屎森林), this is their interpretation of green pastures. And this very boat with a sign teaching those who take the effort to read it, to “quiet their hearts, and enjoy a different kind of silence”, yeah different indeed, as right behind is the ongoing banging and whirring reconstruction happening concurrently.

Green of concrete jungle


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