Smile. Next.

JK, YL, LY and I were at UMMC's Family Day for kids with rare disorders this morning to help entertain the kids while the parents, doctors and caregivers got together to share their thoughts and notes. I dread hospitals, but it was fun today. Singing and dancing to kiddy music. Handing out balloon animals. Stuff like that.

But I saw something that annoyed me greatly.
The batik-clad 'VIPs' who spent all of 5 minutes with the kids, including the photo opportunity with the press. They walked around with arms behind their backs, nodding along the way, looking at the kids like they were exhibits. I couldn't tell if it was concern or discomfort on their faces.

C'mon. The kids don't need your pity.
Go home to your own privileged, spoilt brats.
I pity you.

The kids were like 1/3 to 1/2 their size. And some were sitting in wheelchairs. Were the VIPs' pants so tight they couldn't squat or bend down a little to accommodate them? Was it beneath them to go below their stratosphere?

OK. Maybe I'm over-reacting.
Those VIPs could very well be the hospital's biggest philanthropists. Hmmmm... But then, it'd be just like someone donating a huge amount to some fund in exchange for free publicity. That's just exploitation of someone else's misfortune isn't it? How disgusting!

This brings to mind a story a colleague told me recently.
Over a decade ago, his apartment got swept away by a massive landslide. Many people lost their homes and loved ones that day, with nothing save their clothes on their backs.

Of course, some local minister or town mayor had to be seen like he was doing something. So his people brought blankets. After all it was the rainy season and it would get chilly at night. They distributed the blankets to the victims, but suddenly realised, "Oh no, the Datuk hasn't taken his press photos yet."

They took back all the blankets. And waited for the VIP to arrive. He came, distributed some of the blankets himself, with cameras flashing away, of course. By then, however, the blankets were of little use.

The whole entourage circus brought the wet into the temporary shelter (it was rainy season, remember?). When they got their redistributed blankets after the VIPs and press left, they were all dirty with mud.

That's why the sight of publicity hungry VIPs vexes me so. Especially when my faith in humanity is currently at an all-time low.

Mind you this is not something that happens only in this country. I've read and heard of such things (and worse) happening everywhere in the world.

Anyway. Back to this morning.

The kids were great. There were a couple of funny characters. Like this little dynamo of a chatterbox with curly locks. There was also this little girl who would dance and jump along to the music, laughing and speaking in rapid Tamil. We didn't know what she was saying, but I guess we didn't need to. There were also two balloonists, and they were twisting long balloons into dogs or bees or turtles. The kids were going crazy over them.

It was an interesting experience as a volunteer. But I would think it must've been rather frustrating for our friend JL, the organiser. She is a genetic counsellor at this semi-government hospital, and as such hospitals go, it's like a time warp in there. People function at excruciating slower speeds (the staff, not the patients). So I admire her tenacy in pushing her team to get things moving. Not easy. And I have tremendous respect for people who take the narrow, windy path. Haha.

Ok, I'm digressing abit.

In certain lines of work like healthcare, where being able to make lives better is the goal (as opposed to making tons of dosh as a successful corporate peon), it doesn't matter where you choose to serve. Because wherever you are, there will be people who need you. Thing is, some places need you more than others.

Of course, it'd be nice for a healthcare practitioner to work for an organisation where everyone is at the very least, 'efficient', among other things.

But then, 'serving' means you're giving to others.
It's not really about you.

Take my dad's gastroenterologist, Dr.G, a wonderful doctor.
Thorough. Sharp. Patient. But above all, compassionate and kind.

As a young doctor, he was denied a Government scholarship to pursue his specialization. Anyhow, he found his way to Scotland to do so. After which, he practised abroad for a few years with some of the best in his field.

But he came back.

I asked him why?
He simply said he wanted to.
Despite the obvious fact that he'd be better off elsewhere, he felt there was a greater need for him here.

He would've been better appreciated abroad.
He would've made more money.
But there was already a big pool of able specialists in the UK, while we were in dire shortage of them.

He knew, that being a good doctor is not about what's in it for himself.
He knew, it's about people like my dad.
And it's people like Dr.G who restores what little faith I have left in humanity.