Vocation.

It’s sort of a parallel universe, a world of its own.

What with its own set of canonical babblings, ritual practices and social expectations, it is a world with its own language, logic and leanings. Everything is in chaos and yet fixed in systematic methodology; relationships attempt to cross boundaries and yet are fixed in rigid hierarchy; language is atrociously steeped in jargon and yet its civilians understand every word and abbreviation and pronunciation. Those highest in position dress most casually while those considered lowest in the merciless chain clad themselves in crisp, iron-pressed uniforms; the strongest are most silent and stoic while the frailest wail resoundingly; those who who know the most hedge themselves in the safety of stoicism while those with the least information drench themselves with tears, anxiety and grief. Such are the idiosyncrasies and quizzical mysteries of this new world.

Those unoriented to its environment and uninitiated into its mysteries cannot hope to understand it. It is a place with its own pulse and rules, of swinging automatic doors and beeping machines, with everything in strict order, in cautious wait of any incident which threatens to defy its carefully and painfully established peace.

Its White Civilians never sleep- they are always on the prowl, babbling in their own language as they stride briskly through the hallways arranged like catacombs. Their eyes stalk every movement, and it is almost as if they were omniscient beings, as those who lay on the white, white beds look upon them as demi-gods. It is almost unnerving.

It’s sort of a paralled universe, a world of its own. A strange, strange place, with its white-washed walls caught between the background of white, white clouds through the glassy windows and the lonely silouettes of the elderly with white, white hair.

The hospital, that is.

It’s been a busy week, with day and night and the next day separated merely by a quiet time sitting by my bedside with an open bible, before falling asleep and crawling into bed in the early morning. Yet, for all its strangeness and peculiarity, one begins to feel the depth of this new world, feel its pulsation of emotions, and its warmth, its care.

I like this new place. It is unlike the previous hospital I was at. Warm sunshine pours into every corner, relieving the white-washed walls with a cheerful tinge of yellow and pink, unlike previously, where the air left one choking in its humidity. As I walk through the aisles basking in the gentle glow of the sunshine, the clouds which tear across the azure sky like ragged horses captures my breath. More importantly, one is inspired by the doctors who work themselves to the bone, rushing from one emergency to the next, and who yet flash out their compassionate, peaceful smiles through their weary eyes in the midst of flurry; by the nurses who bring life and joy to the most important people in this new world- the patients themselves.

There is sterility, whiteness and silence. And gore, and mess and deafening noise. Rush and stress and conflict. And gentleness, clear-headedness and peace. All rolled into one, one spilled out into a little of everything, like a juicy mexican tortilla.

Such was the first week of my proper induction into this fresh new world at the new hospital I had been assigned to. And even as I wonder in amazement how I would ever survive the 36-hour work shifts, the constant ticking of one’s mind without ceasing, the sense of love and genuine concern for every patient and human being, I look at this new team of seasoned doctors I’ve met, their sincerity and concern for every human being, their competence and compassion, and I’ve new hope in a profession which hit me in the face with its brutal insensitivity, disdainful arrogance and hard focus on problem-solving at the previous hospital I had been posted to.

Both are part of this strange, strange world one calls the hospital. Yet, while one is suffocating, because of its architecture and demanding and brisk culture, the other is open, efficient and yet exuding with warmth and love. The doctors smile back at you, answer your innocent questions without caustic sarcasm and the nurses jest with you, giving you help whenever you need it.

A culture shock, of a good kind, was what it was for me. I feel I've found my dream workplace. Both are part of the same world, function just as efficiently, and yet operate as vastly different continents.

Same environment. Different people.

Different people. Different love.

Patients always heal better in a more loving environment. Doctors and nurses function better, too.

No matter what we do, sometimes it’s easy to forget- that at the end of the day, it’s always about people. It’s about a task only to the extent that it concerns a person. Compassion and competence, that’s what you said.

In the busyness of our everyday lives, have we forgotten the point of our work? Have we forgotten our child-sized (which means mega-sized) dreams and ideals about our passions, or have we allowed our environment to shape and change us?

I realize- that one always has a choice. Our worlds may be similar, in terms of its ideals, stresses and demands, but one always has a choice, in every situation. We can choose to let our worlds shape us and allow the white walls to bleach us dry to the bone, bristling with agitation and exasperation and exhaustion for the rest of our lives as we lose ourselves in work, or be the faithful servants who in daily consecration and obedience, be the ones who work ploddingly but passionately, and never forgetting to quietly draw the curtains and open the windows each morning, to let the sunshine peek in.

This culture shock opened my eyes to see just how amazing the power of people's working attitudes can be, how it can shape a community, a culture, and a whole new world of its own.

They were utterly inspiring, not least because they were more knowledgeable or capable, but because they were more sensitive, more patient, more... humble, down-to-earth. There was a charming quality about all who worked there.

Because perhaps after all, after the grand work of whatever we were meant to do, it’s still the little, humble things we do which put everything in perspective, and which bring us and the people around us, faith, hope and joy.

These lovely people reminded me- that it's always about People. They are the heart of why we do what we do, whatever it is that we do.

Bringing them faith, hope and joy, the way good yellow sunshine does- and the view of the open sky up above.