The journey to conquer a dream

Each one of us, I think, has a dream of our own; each person has a different dream, and everyone hopes their future will be wide open and bright. That is also the force that drives us to overcome the present hardships and trials and to strive to reach it in the future. As for me, I too wish that three years from now, when I graduate from this school, the degree in my hand will be an honours degree, and that when I practise I will be a good doctor — a doctor of traditional medicine — treating patients, and above all poor patients.

I was born and grew up in a family with many children; you could say that our number alone would be enough to field a decent football team. I am the youngest in the family, and I am called by any number of odd but no less endearing names: Mập, Heo, Cọt, Đu Đủ, Siêu nhân ốc, Bà Khầm, Ủn ỉn, Vẹt Con… Probably because my figure is rather… ample, and because I like throwing myself into things that few of us girls dare to do, on top of a mouth that never stops talking.

Although the family has many children, we brothers and sisters are very close to one another; we often share our food and clothing with each other and scrape together every last coin to support whoever could go to school, as long as they studied well. Among us siblings, only four went on to upper secondary school and to university or college, and I am one of them. What is special is that of those four, three have entered or are entering religious life, and I am proud of that. Even so, the poor stay poor; poverty gives rise to sickness, and much sickness makes for still deeper poverty — a vicious circle that I do not know when my family, or the many people in similar circumstances, will ever escape. I myself fell into that fate when I learned I was infected with the hepatitis B virus, a disease for which there is still no specific cure. Of course, the one with the hardest fate in my family has to be my mother. Since I was in lower secondary school, my mother has carried many illnesses — pulmonary tuberculosis, diabetes, high blood pressure — and it may well be that from then on a dream took shape in me: to become a doctor and treat the sick, so that at the very least I could treat my mother and everyone in my family.

But my academic ability was not enough for me both to collect scrap for money and to pass the medical university entrance exam on my first attempt. Even so I did not want to give up, and I wanted to test myself at a second attempt, which was in 2012. Happily, that year I passed into Huế University of Medicine — the school I am attending now. I still remember clearly the day the acceptance letter came, and how glad my parents and my brothers and sisters were — and no less anxious, because our family's finances really did not favour it. Yet I felt that God was always watching over my family, and I was still able to go on studying and to pursue my dream. The only solution was for each person to contribute a share of the cost: my parents a share, my brothers and sisters a share, and I would cover a share myself. It was precisely that stretch of time working while studying that helped me look at this life with rather more grown-up thoughts.

This year I am a third-year student (2014–2015), but my mother is a patient in the last days of her life; life seems a little too short to give me the chance to repay my parents' care. I had not yet come halfway through my studies when my mother left us brothers and sisters behind, left me behind with a dream not yet fulfilled; once again I wavered, once again my steps faltered. Even so, I still have my father and my brothers and sisters beside me, and they never stop encouraging me. It was from this point too that I began my clinical training at Huế Central Hospital, meeting and learning from many patients with many different illnesses. On those clinical rounds, looking at the crowds of patients lying bedridden, I came to a clearer awareness of my duty and my responsibility, and of the lives of thousands of patients. It is heartbreaking to see patients with grave illnesses who have no money for treatment and must swallow their sorrow and go home to wait for death to come for them. I wonder when health workers will come to know Jesus, when poor patients will no longer have to worry about finding money for treatment, when everyone will live in health and everyone will be loved.

  Becoming a good doctor is not easy; my course grows heavier and demands real effort, because we are trained as doctors combining East and West. Besides learning and deepening our traditional knowledge, we must also keep up with new Western medical knowledge; many thorns lie waiting for me ahead. Sometimes I feel it was reckless to choose this trade of "fighting with death". Nothing can be compared to a human life: to treat a patient successfully is a duty, but a mistake of even the smallest kind in treatment affects another person's life. All the same, it is the difficulty that makes it interesting; life is a matter of experience and learning, and making others glad and well is my joy.

Every one of us ought to have a dream; with a purpose in life, our life becomes meaningful. Whether the dream is great or small, and however many thorns and trials line the road we choose, we will find joy and success, as long as we do not give up. As for me, I choose to become a doctor of traditional medicine — able in skill and sound in medical ethics — and however hard it may be, I will still choose that road and I will not give up.

Têrêxa Lê Thị Huệ

Parish: Phú Vinh – Kẻ Dừa Deanery

Field of study: Traditional Medicine

University: Huế University of Medicine and Pharmacy