Hope

As a medical professional on the flight to Chicago this morning, I was called upon to see a gentleman who passed out twice after bouts of vomiting and diarrhoea.

It was not an exciting story. Instead, it reminds me the very first time when I, as a graduate medical student, was to help someone fallen sick aboard.

We were having the Outward Bound School sea diploma course then. The sea was rough, the majority of us miserable with throwing up. My teammates turned to me, who was supposed to be the best guy to treat their sea sickness. Medical doctor is surely the most appropriate one to be relied upon when you fall sick, except when it is not.

I dutifully reached across the bed in the cabin and fetched my stock of medicine. Nevertheless, I knew very well that my medical degree has never granted me a magic cure whatsoever for sea sickness. Worse, as I fumbled around the medication, I found not even a drug for motion sickness.

But I was not supposed to disappoint my teammates. "Friends, the good news is that I bring with me the best medication for sea sickness. The bad news is that I got one such marvellous tablet only." I announced. "Come on. Don't get mad with me. That being the case, we gotta help Jenny, who is the worst hit by the sea."

With that, I handed Jenny a "precious tablet", which was simply paracetamol (and has nothing to do with sea sickness).

She got far better after taking my remedy.