i didn’t notice a missing finger yesterday.
i saw a hand with pink fingernails, i felt a pulse that was strong and regular. i felt a palm that was warm, but i didn’t realise she had 4 fingers on one hand.
granted, the surgeon who performed the amputation did an extraordinarily good job. he removed the entire index finger, taking great care to sew her skin together flawlessly. he had assured her so many years ago that no one would notice unless they looked hard enough.
i held her hands and i didn’t look hard enough. my colleague immediately pointed it out.
it would be an understatement to say i was embarrassed. i felt the colour drain from my face and would have burst into tears if i were just that little bit more sensitive. i wanted to bury my head into the dark green curtains around me and step outside the world for a little while.
observation skills cannot be taught. if i’m this careless now, how could any of my patients trust me 3 years down the road?
“this then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in His presence whenever our hearts condemn us. for God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.” – 1 john 3:19-20
i may not know, but He knows. i may not see, but He sees. there is a strange comfort in knowing that, and a death of the condemnation in my heart.
it wouldn’t be fair to say it was a bad week. i learnt alot and i enjoy this much much more than the dreary hours in the library, reading about diseases i have not seen, felt, heard for myself. but i would be lying if i said i wasn’t discouraged by the realisation of my incompetence.
still, if He sees and He knows, by His grace one day i will see and know too. i’m praying for that day, praying for a way for that to happen. and i will never miss a missing finger again.