originally posted on Cafe Philosoffee 2007-05-16
Being doctors, our philosophy of treatment only involves an occasional necessity in healing success.
Working in medical line, I ponder a lot on this word: healing. When a patient comes to me, being sick and all, what he is looking for could be a relief from his ailments. I would offer some advice, probably a pill or two, and send him away. Do I send him off healed? What is his expectation of the consultation? Does he expect that he will be well again just by downing a couple of pills?
We are probably thinking of a guy with a common headache, or a congested nose, or maybe some kind of discomfort in the tummy. Sitting in a community clinic, probably the bulk of my clients are of that sort. If he doesn't feel well after a couple of days, he'd probably come again or go to another medical practitioner. Even if he gets better, we seldom use the word 'healed', for cured is probably a more popular option amongst the medical personnels.
One kind of 'illness' - for lack of a better word - that probably isn't as easy to treat as a common flu or even probably a huge, nasty, deep-in brain lesion could be easier dealt with, is a broken, desolated heart.
One can go into desolation secondary to uncountable factors, and most of it involves an emotion of love and care, unmet expectations ending up in deep disappointment. The hurt of a broken heart can sometimes be so intense, that one would rather have his nails pulled out. In situations like this, one usually seek for healing rather than cure.
Healing is a process, and the length of this process, through personal experience, may not have a fixed time, or may not even have a clear end-point. I would think that I am completely healed of the hurt from a certain occasion or crisis, because I am able to talk about it freely without feeling the cringe inside, but the next minute a song will just remind me of the whole thing and I will be crying unconsolably. What the heck, when will this all end?
I used to ask God to just take it all away, leave me refreshed and anew, but it never seems to be a good idea, or else He would have thought of it before me. His way of healing is usually slow, and graced with feeling of comfort and assurance from time to time. Now I have come to term that actual healing may not be similar to the one I have in my mind. I would probably not be left completely free of any emotions from my past experiences, but healing comes as easiness to accept the grace of perseverance, strength and comfort in knowing that He has always been around. Healing, to me, means that I am able to see the blessings that were hidden behind the whole tragedy, blocked by my irrational but most-necessary emotions at that time.
Like a scar that covers a wound will never disappear completely, my past experiences will never completely go away, always staying around making a surprise visit from time to time to remind me of the grace and blessings that I've received. If only I'd be quiet and obedient enough to see it.
TO CURE, SOMETIMES
TO RELIEVE, OFTEN
TO COMFORT, ALWAYS
TO RELIEVE, OFTEN
TO COMFORT, ALWAYS
Being doctors, our philosophy of treatment only involves an occasional necessity in healing success.
Working in medical line, I ponder a lot on this word: healing. When a patient comes to me, being sick and all, what he is looking for could be a relief from his ailments. I would offer some advice, probably a pill or two, and send him away. Do I send him off healed? What is his expectation of the consultation? Does he expect that he will be well again just by downing a couple of pills?
We are probably thinking of a guy with a common headache, or a congested nose, or maybe some kind of discomfort in the tummy. Sitting in a community clinic, probably the bulk of my clients are of that sort. If he doesn't feel well after a couple of days, he'd probably come again or go to another medical practitioner. Even if he gets better, we seldom use the word 'healed', for cured is probably a more popular option amongst the medical personnels.
One kind of 'illness' - for lack of a better word - that probably isn't as easy to treat as a common flu or even probably a huge, nasty, deep-in brain lesion could be easier dealt with, is a broken, desolated heart.
One can go into desolation secondary to uncountable factors, and most of it involves an emotion of love and care, unmet expectations ending up in deep disappointment. The hurt of a broken heart can sometimes be so intense, that one would rather have his nails pulled out. In situations like this, one usually seek for healing rather than cure.
Healing is a process, and the length of this process, through personal experience, may not have a fixed time, or may not even have a clear end-point. I would think that I am completely healed of the hurt from a certain occasion or crisis, because I am able to talk about it freely without feeling the cringe inside, but the next minute a song will just remind me of the whole thing and I will be crying unconsolably. What the heck, when will this all end?
I used to ask God to just take it all away, leave me refreshed and anew, but it never seems to be a good idea, or else He would have thought of it before me. His way of healing is usually slow, and graced with feeling of comfort and assurance from time to time. Now I have come to term that actual healing may not be similar to the one I have in my mind. I would probably not be left completely free of any emotions from my past experiences, but healing comes as easiness to accept the grace of perseverance, strength and comfort in knowing that He has always been around. Healing, to me, means that I am able to see the blessings that were hidden behind the whole tragedy, blocked by my irrational but most-necessary emotions at that time.
Like a scar that covers a wound will never disappear completely, my past experiences will never completely go away, always staying around making a surprise visit from time to time to remind me of the grace and blessings that I've received. If only I'd be quiet and obedient enough to see it.
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