Funking it up on Mars.

I never really went to concerts when I was growing up. They always felt expensive, excessive, sort of a luxury that although not necessarily out of reach, but just unnecessary spending. After all, I can get my fix of their music from a CD, or nowadays, youtube or sportify. Why pay sometimes close to a hundred bucks (for the cheaper seats usually) to go to a concert and hear all the same songs?

Well, because sometimes the experience makes it really, really, worthwhile.

Bruno Mars was wonderful tonight. After the expected delay in start time (show was scheduled for 8pm, then after the opening act, Mars took almost an hour to change stage, starting the show at almost close to 9:30pm. However, once the stage emerges, it is clear why they chose to take so long (well, probably part of that delay was still simply for the effect).

The stage was one of the best I've seen yet (which, to be honest, doesn't count for a lot for a non-concert goer like me). But the numerous mobile pieces, the LED stage displays and lighting, and the intermittent pyro and fire displays made it all the more impressive.

And it was loud. Perhaps the loudest concert I've been to yet (again, small sample size, I know).

Mars and his band, the Hooligans, were funky. They were playful. They goofed. They sang. And they danced, a lot, non stop.

In fact, right from the get-go, it seemed the entire audience danced with them, all night long. I sat down for a song or two. But for the majority of goers, they didn't touch their seats at all. I almost felt guilty sitting down. Such a non-fan, I know.

Swaying, tapping, clapping. Some, dare I say it, almost looked like they were grinding.

It was a treat. Mars sang his little heart out. Sweaty like a pig. He must have went through ten towels tonight. And I loved his causal demeanor, singing in a baseball sweater and cap outfit (he didn't change outfit at all), holding on to a towel wiping away as if he was at the gym during his songs. So much for star like qualities. He was just one of us.

Some concerts makes you fall in love with the artist a little bit, or at least makes you appreciate their music more. This was one. In the past, concerts like James Blunt, Eason Chan, and Damien Rice had very similar effect.

Concerts are worth going to. Some of them at least. Sure you don't walk away with anything tangible (not even a ticket stub to hold on to these days). But the experience would last, well, long enough, if not a life time.

Fall. Get up. Keep going. There's work to be done.

I find one of the toughest thing as a doctor is to sometimes having to separate your own emotions from your task on hand. This is especially true when you are dealing with some adversity, or in some unfortunate situation, emotionally still dealing with a bad outcome with a patient, yet having to move on, because a new case await you, and you better enter the next battle with a clean slate of mind.

Every so often, you come across a case that humbles you. In fact, these often scare you to pieces. The outcome is often unexpected. Had it been more obvious, you might have caught it. But no, the body doesn't follow the textbook, and sometimes it's just hard to pick up subtle signs. With every bad outcome, there are always learning points. I keep a log, fortunately not too large of a collection, but it serves to remind me the little lessons along the way that hopefully can make me better.

But emotionally, having to deal with a miss is never easy. It consumes you. It doubts your abilities. It shatters your confidence.

Yet, without pause, you have a next patient waiting for you, expecting nothing less than your best effort, and in their mind, near perfection. Of course, one should not expect anything less naturally.

But yet, how does a warrior, in the midst of some degree of self doubt and broken confidence, go on fighting his best fight. Yet that is the task bestowed upon us. I might take a minute or two to regroup. But then I ask myself, am I ready for the fight. If I say no, I have better excuse myself from the battle. But frequently, you demand detachment from yourself. You set aside what just happened. Your reset. You motor on.

That is one of the hardest thing to learn, but yet I think most critical. It's naive to think that our past do not factor into our future decision making. Would we become overly cautious now? And work up everything. Would I question every grey area, but that would cripple me as an effective decision maker. My more senior colleagues would remind me, that we work in a high risk area, and that bad things happen. We try our best to minimize it, but we cannot let them consume us.

Best practices come in many forms. It's up to each one of us to decide what is our standard. But at every junction, I guess the only way forward, is to keep trying my best. To have no regrets, to feel I have done what I can do at the moment for each case, and then wipe my mind clean, and move on.

Patients are waiting. Things have to get done. You do the best you can.