It did not strike me when I hit the jackpot 2 weeks ago.
One of our senior neurologists was moving onward to the next stage of his career and had to search for someone new to take up his role as a research coordinator.
It was a study on the local prevalence of Fabry disease amongst young stroke patients in Hong Kong.
It just so happens that when he asked me and another neurology resident whether we were interested, I was wrapping up my work before a 2-week long vacation in Tokyo.
And there was a lot of wrapping up to do.
The only thought on my mind was “I need to get over with everything on my hands.”
An additional workload that would not get me a pay raise or promotion did not sound appetizing.
I bet my counterpart had the same thought when we exchanged awkward glances in an attempt to escape.
After a moment of back and forth, mostly to end the conversation and get back to my work, somehow I said “yes”.
Neither did I think too much about the decision until 2 weeks later at the end of my vacation.
As usual, the post-holiday blues slowly closed in on my last day in Japan.
The flight back home is always a time frozen at the junction between dreaming and reality.
My mind was still wandering with the adventures that had come and gone.
There is also an eminent sense of weight in anticipation of returning to daily life physically and mentally.
Just as I was savoring all the things I’ve achieved on the journey (sights, food, time with loved ones) and lamenting all the things I’ve failed to accomplish (my research manuscript, the ethics board application, the chapter on electromyography), it hit me that trying my hands as a research coordinator was the opportunity I’d been eyeing at all along.
Publishing a scientific post at a stroke conference.
Preparing a journal publication.
Hoping to get on the research working group.
This was another break I had been waiting for.
And I made that undertaking decision almost unconsciously.
It sure feels like serendipity but somehow it also feels like it was meant to be.
It was an opened door that I had failed to see because I had focused too much on the doors that had been closed.