A rut hole is a deep, narrow depression or pit carved into the earth, typically forged by the repeated passage of heavy tires or hooves over soft, yielding terrain.In a philosophical sense, the rut hole serves as a visceral metaphor for stagnation and the erosion of agency. While a physical rut is merely a…
The concept of love remains a debate in intellectual history, with definitions spanning from biological necessity to divine transcendence. Love is often categorized through the Greek taxonomy, distinguishing between *Eros* (passion), *Philia* (friendship), and *Agape* (selfless devotion), suggesting affection is a spectrum of bonds rather than a singular experience. Plato envisioned love as a…
I find myself questioning whether these infusion mornings are inherently chaotic, or if they only feel that way because my own reserves of patience and energy are running so low. Work does not pause for anyone; in my world, work does not stop even at the threshold of death. Yet, here I am again,…
Last week, I returned to South Korea—a place that, for me, is synonymous with peace, comfort, and the warmest of memories. Our journey began in Jeju, an island shaped by volcanic fire and the relentless rhythm of the sea. There is a specific kind of beauty in a place that has survived every extreme…
This Friday, I am anchored in restlessness. I have a journey to Seoul awaiting me this Sunday, yet even the anticipated vibrance of the cherry blossoms—blooms I have longed to see—cannot overpower the heavy darkness that has settled over today. My heart keeps drifting back to those few months in Seoul years ago, when…
Fridays seem to be arriving with a newfound velocity, sweeping in faster than they once did. It is a typical morning at work—a rhythmic cycle of questions, answers, meticulous plans, and drug charts. As I begin wrapping everything up, I find myself back at RHDU Bed 3, reunited with my 26-gauge needles and the…
The weight of this Friday feels different as I sit amidst the rhythmic hum of the infusion pump—a sound that usually signals a personal battle, but today feels like a quiet backdrop to the echoes of the world. I am suspended in that rare, raw space where exhaustion meets clarity, where the lack of…
I woke up this Friday with an eerie weight in my chest. It wasn’t the fear of pain—I’ve grown accustomed to that. It was the sight of the infusion pump and those six needles waiting to be claimed by my abdomen. They are more than medical tools; they are cold, sharp reminders of helplessness.…
How do I explain to the seven-year-old inside me that we finally caught the lightning, but our hands weren’t meant to hold it? We spent a lifetime reaching, only to learn that some stars are more beautiful for their distance than their touch. I had a God complex , a belief that I could make lives…