My baby turned six =)

It was a hot Sunday afternoon in an apartment in London city. There was loud relentless crying coming from the stuffy living room, a scared child amidst more scared adults. What was going on? What's wrong with her? Another child stood near the door, thinking she was to blame, she started crying too. I came down, the heat intolerable, nose stuffed with tissue paper, feeling drowsy and tired. Will anyone make her stop?

That’s how it all started. That was the beginning. That’s where the story starts.

Things all went downhill from there. The unexplained crying, the regression, the tantrums. When the glimmer from her eyes disappeared, we all became worried.

She was a happy child. An adorable two and a half years old girl. Chubby with the tiniest teeth, a front tooth chipped just a little bit, courtesy of her mischievousness. She was a fast learner, she knew her ABCs and Arabic alphabets by the time she was two, 1-10 in two languages, around the same time. Every time we passed a billboard or a shop she would read the letters out loud. She even saw letters in dollops of cream and bits of food. She never spoke as such, but she knew a lot of words.

Then she slowly started forgetting what she had learned. Little by little she started becoming different. She became aloof. The twinkle from her eyes gone. She lied in bed for hours staring at the ceiling, laughing to herself. We knew when she had one of her days when she would sit and stare into nothingness, her eyes blank, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning, never responding to her name. In hindsight, there were signs we failed to notice. Sometimes when she wanted something she would guide our hand to it. She watched a certain cartoon over and over again, and if it stopped she would throw a tantrum. She didn't always maintain eye contact. If her routine was broken in any way she would become very upset. Every time her cousin came around she would cry and cry until she would throw up. Were we supposed to pick them up earlier coming from a medical background? How could’ve we know that this was not just a deviation from normal. But she looked so normal? But she’s our baby?

The time from when the possibility of her diagnosis hit us and the time her diagnosis was confirmed was excruciating. The MRI, the EEG, the neurologist, the psychologist, the psychiatrist, the mutawaa, the whole family. The denials. The frustration. The books. The different opinions. The tension. The prayers. The grief. And the whole thing all over again.

Have we accepted her diagnosis? Yes we have. Have we come to terms with it? No we haven’t. Despite the prognosis, we all still have hope that she will grow out of it some day. She is improving, and for that we are grateful. She attends the best special education school here. She attended extensive speech therapy. She is slowly but surely becoming more independent and verbalizing her needs. She is already very manipulative and knows how to get away with her naughtiness. And she gives the best hugs and kisses. Despite everything we love her. I can't imagine loving anyone as much as I love her, not even my own. She’s still my most precious neice, my princess. She will always be.

اللهم رب الناس اذهب البأس اشفها انت الشافى شفاء لايغادر سقما

Quarter-life crisis

Yet again I find myself at a point in time where I resent my life. I find no meaning in my day, no passion or drive.


Have I hit quarter life crisis already?

I spent more than 21 years of my 25 years on this planet as a student. Kindergarten, elementary school, preparatory school, high school and the infamous seven years of med school. Exactly ten days after my last exam I started my internship. To say that I didn't get enough rest is an understatement; I hardly caught my breath before I dived into my new job, my first job. A few months into my internship, I find myself studying, half-heartedly trying to at least, for some board exam, so I secure a place in the residency program of my choice. One question that keeps posing itself over and over again is why? Why am I doing this? Why do I always find myself in this meaningless rat race?

The other day my dentist asked if I was always this serious, and the question just opened a flood of regrets, disappointments, bitterness and missed opportunities.

Besides the fact that I am a doctor, what do I have to show for the past 25 years of my life? When I am old and wrinkly, what gripping stories will I be able to share?

The first seven years of my adult life were lived in a sheltered academic life, surrounded by people in the same boat, an entourage of geeks. It set a tone to my life, and now I see myself clashing with reality. Life outside of a hospital is hard. Being in a social gathering is hard. Non-medical lingo is hard. I can't recommunicate with my non-medical friends. I don't have any medical friends where I live. I can't help but isolate myself. I have no hobbies. I have no social life. I don't even have "crazy" university moments to reminisce. And I am still not past the last terrorizing month of med-school to rewind to the good bits.

I can't help but feel sorry for my wasted youth. For not expanding my horizons. For exhausting my brain and not using my body. For not experimenting. For seeing these years pass me by.

I don't know what I want anymore. I am not making sense to myself anymore. I am not sure of anything anymore. All this negativity is making me resent being a doctor already. The passion for medicine is abating, the drive to thrive diminishing and I hate myself for feeling this way about the only thing I am good at, being a doctor.

قال رسول الله صلى الله عليه و سلم:
"رأيت قوما من أمتي على منابر من نور، يمرون على الصراط كالبرق الخاطف، نورهم تشخص منه الأبصار، لا هم بالأنبياء، و لا هم بالصديقين، و لا هم بالشهداء، إنهم قوم تقضى على أيديهم حوائج الناس."
صدق رسول الله صلى الله عليه و سلم.
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