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…