Tuesday, March 30, 2010
After months of struggle since late August, I thought everything would slowly settle down and be better. I thought we would still be strong and fight our way out till one day Boss comes back.
But finally, as much as I wished we could just hold on, reality isn't a fairytale. We couldn't continue running anymore.
Our little clinic is sold. The month of April will be the last of Evangel Family Clinic & Surgery.
I may be the newest addition to the clinic, but I dare say my bonding to her is no less then the rest of the family. I love my job, I love the clinic, I love the doctors, I love my boss and manager, I love my colleagues. Now, the clinic's gonna go under a whole new management. I'm not sure if I'll fit into their business.
I hate to see the efforts of 13 over years go down the drain. Yes, in fact it did not. I'm sure we've touched the hearts of many heartland patients and foster loyal relationships with them. For the one short year I've been in Evangel, it was enriching, enlightening and eye-opening. The clinic watched me grow, gave me challenges, opportunity and guidance. I thought I could still see myself locum there after graduation. Though dreams were shattered, memories remained strong.
I will cherish the last month of our FAMILY clinic. I'm not sure of its future direction. It could become very commercial, very business oriented. And less of a lively, homey, cosy and warm clinic which I can call my own home. I would collect as much memories as I can of this place. Because, soon, it would be nothing quite as close as what it used to be. I hate to say goodbye. But do I have a choice? Neither does anyone else in the family.
As much as I will miss our Home, I'll miss Boss. I pray for a miracle. I hope everything's gonna turn out fine for him, and I hope I would have a chance to let him watch me graduate from NUS Pharmacy School. May everything be fine for him.
Goodbye Evangel, my family clinic.
-
Psalms 37:4 -
Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. # ;