Why ?

It is not my first memory but undoubtedly the most significant, since it carries on haunting me and guiding my life…
When I was five years old and when my mother informed me of her pregnancy, I was the happiest boy on Earth. At last, I became an older brother with all his meanings: more responsibilities but more funny things to do. Unfortunately, it was utterly different.
T. was a premature-born, low-weight boy and his life began in an incubator in neonatology ward at hospital. What a shock to discover for the first time his bandage-dressed, pipe-kitted, little brother! My nightmares were full of numerous electrodes, inhuman respirators and wicked nurses. It was my first discovery of the asepticized hospital environment with this special ethereal smell, these unbearable, noisy alarms and this painful equipment. I was frustrated not to touch him - he was too delicate, too mechanized - disappointed not to play with him and bitter about this incomprehensible adult world.
At that time, I realized that this first hospital experience would lead my entire life: I wanted to become a doctor.

But sometimes, dreams don't come true...
Let's go running for the first time since I arrive in Paris and forget this f* week-end on duty...

Comments

[Melie]

Ah bah oui, la gynéco... On dit toujours que les jeunes patients menacés "d'hospitalisme" feront souvent des docteurs. Cinq ans, un bébé que l'on aide à vivre. Vingt-cinq ans, des tas de bébés à faire naître.

[Mllegazou]

Blog in English, why not ;-)

[Churchill]

Excuse me... but I'm lost. I thought you've had an twin brother.

[Tienou]

Chin up, ok ? You've gotta try to have faith in yourself... and in others ;)