He loved his profession. He was a medical doctor of repute, known and acknowledged as one of the best in his time. His quest for excellence in medical practice made him spend hours in his laboratory, thinking through procedures and novel methods to combat some of life's most threatening ailments at the time. For days, and often times, weeks, he was absent at home. His wife understood him and supported his innovation in medicine. However, he didn't have the support of his last daughter. His feats in the field of medicine has deprived her of her father. She has learnt that her dad cared for his patients more than he cared for the family. He was rarely at home. The daughter didn't forget the weekend that she prayed he should be available at home. Mother and children had taken time out to prepare some nice delicacies and had gone the extra mile to make it special for their guest: the usually absent dad. They sat at meal, said the prayer and serving began. Whizz, the dad's phone buzzed before serving ended. His attention was needed at the hospital. He was gone in the twinkling of an eye.
On one of the few nights that he called at home again, he was full of apologies for his absence at home, for days he has lost count. As the family retired to bed, the daughter, wrapped in the embrace of her dad, whispered into his ears: "When I grow up, dad, I have the ambition to become a patient" and said good night.
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