21/11/2025
My Night beyond Medical Service.
A Tale of Exhaustion, Compassion, Resilience and Unwavering Commitment to Humanity.
Friday, November 21st 2025 ___ Juba
My internship at Juba Military Referral Hospital (Giada) at Obstetrics and Gynecology Department stands as one of the most defining and transformative chapters of my medical journey — a profound narrative woven from exhaustion, sacrifice, and an unwavering commitment to humanity. It was not merely a season of clinical training, but a crucible in which my resilience was tested, my compassion awakened, and my understanding of what it truly means to serve was forever reshaped.
Our group, Group B, was assigned to theatre duty on Friday, October 31st — a rotation that demanded an unforgiving 24-hour shift. From the instant we stepped into the operating theatre, we were consumed by a relentless cascade of procedures. There was no pause, no mercy in the ticking hands of time. Major and minor surgeries unfolded in rapid succession: uterine fibroid removals, hysterectomies, cesarean sections, cystectomies, and dilatation and curettage (D&C). That night alone, I assisted in four operations, each requiring precision, composure, and unyielding focus. By dawn, my senses were overwhelmed, my body drained, and my mind stretched to the brink of collapse.
Yet rest proved a distant illusion. On November 1st, due to weekend rotation, our group was once again for another 24-hour shift. The workload intensified mercilessly. I found myself assisting in nearly six additional procedures, every movement fueled by sheer determination as hunger gnawed and fatigue settled deep into my bones. What sustained me was not only professional obligation, but the solidarity of my fellow interns — a quiet brotherhood and sisterhood bound together by purpose and perseverance in the face of overwhelming strain.
When the night finally loosened its grip around 10 pm, my only desire was the solace of rest as I ended my shift. I boarded a raksha heading towards KonyoKonyo so that I could stop at Suk Sita, sharing the ride with a quiet young woman, seemingly in her early marriage years, whose unease revealed her unfamiliarity with the city, she came from Jebel and was heading to Sherikat. Our journey, however, was abruptly interrupted at Medan Simba Roundabout when the vehicle ran out of fuel. The driver apologized and let us go without payment, forcing us to foot it to Suk Sita in search of another vehicle leaving us stranded in the stillness of the night — two weary souls surrounded by darkness and uncertainty.
Despite my exhaustion, I could not ignore the vulnerability of the stranger beside me after she revealed that she's new to Juba. Together, we walked toward Suk Sita in search of another ride, the heavy silence broken only by distant birds and the restless calls of street dogs. Our search stretched onward through Tombura main road, Aba-Liif Junction, until we reach KonyoKonyo footing__ I can't believe, but transportation remained elusive. With every step, her anxiety grew more visible, and instinctively, a deep sense of responsibility settled within me. She was lost, frightened, and alone in a city that did not yet know her — and I could not abandon her.
At 11pm while at KonyoKonyo, we encountered a group of unsavory individuals who sought to exploit our vulnerable state. I stood my ground, shielding her with unwavering resolve until we finally found a boda boda rider willing to take us to Gumbo, near the BIIR Petroleum Station. There we waited, the stillness thick with anticipation, for her brother to arrive and es**rt her safely to Sherikat.
In that fragile pause beneath the night sky, overwhelmed with gratitude, she asked for my name.
“Deng Atem, from Jonglei state,” I replied.
She asked, “Why did you take such a risk for someone you don’t know?”
I answered simply, “Helping you is my conviction. I don’t need to know a person to do what’s right.” Helping her, I explained, was not heroism but a moral duty; a simple act of being human. She smiled, amazed, and shared that she was from Fangak, Jonglei State as well, I preserve her name out of respect for her privacy.
Her brother arrived at midnight, and she was safely reunited with him and headed to Sherikat. Only then did the full weight of the previous forty-eight hours descend upon me. My body ached, my spirit trembled, yet within that exhaustion resided an unshakable sense of fulfillment — the profound reassurance that I had chosen righteousness over convenience, humanity over indifference.
As I journeyed back home __ Giada, reflection enveloped me. The endless surgeries, the lonely walk through Juba’s silent streets, the fear in a stranger’s eyes and the gratitude in her smile all converged into a powerful revelation. I understood that medicine is not confined to prescriptions or surgical instruments; it extends into compassion, courage, and the willingness to stand as a shield for the vulnerable, even when one’s own strength is nearly exhausted.
This experience redefined my identity as a medical intern. It taught me that true healing begins with empathy, that resilience is measured not only by physical endurance but by moral fortitude, and that the purest form of kindness is extended without expectation of praise or reward. In those quiet moments of reflection, I realized that my calling was not simply to treat illness, but to uphold dignity, preserve hope, and illuminate darkness where fear threatens to dwell.
In conclusion, my internship at Juba Military Referral Hospital was more than a demanding rotation — it was a sacred journey of growth and awakening. It forged within me the virtues of perseverance, humility, and selfless service. It reaffirmed my belief that the highest calling of a medical professional is not merely to heal the body, but to protect the fragile spirit of humanity. This lesson, born from exhaustion and tempered by compassion, will remain etched within me for as long as I wear the white coat and walk the path of service.
Deng A. D. Atem
