On cultural awareness

Recently attended a MUHI Crossing Borders, Cultural Awareness program, which provided valuable insight and, simply said, perspective, on asylum seekers and refugees living within Australia, focussing especially on the difficulties they experience after arrival, cultural differences, and how we, as medical personnel, will best be able to speak to them, gain trust, establish rapport and help them find their footing in an alien nation.

The workshop concluded with a simulated patient, who was suffering post-traumatic stress disorder. After the interview, we had a chance to speak to the SP as herself, not in character, for feedback and analysis.

She covered her mouth, a wide bright smile flitting about, "Am I allowed to speak as myself yet?" Soft-spoken and full of laughter, she explains her role and the story behind her character, "This poor lady, whilst trying to flee her homeland, she accidentally stepped on a landmine and in the process, lost her baby. At night, the memories come flooding back - her baby, why didn't she protect her baby better? Then she worries about the rest of her family - her mother, father, sisters - are they well? Are they safe? Her husband is always working to support them here and always sending money back home. She sits all day at home, staring at the wall. Praying, always praying. Always, the guilt. It could have been us. Why did we live and they die? Why are we living in safety when our family members back home cower, fearing for their lives?"

This is not uncommon.
If not, one of the less horrific stories.

My goodness, the scale and depth of a world I cannot even hope to grasp even a wisp of.

I've begun to appreciate the depth and scope of all the fiction I read as a young child. You don't understand it back then, it's just a story. And you love merely the story. You never understand what teachers say when they talk 'themes' explored, but you love the story for being what it is - wonderfully painted in your mind's eye. As with all things they come with age, understanding, at last. The recent first MD student conference has drilled this thought into me.

After years and years, I finally understand.