Chapter 21 — The First Heartbeat

Part V — No One Is Perfect

Thursday morning, four days before the certification exam, Thien Kim received a surprise call from Ms. Hoa right before class. "Can you stop by the infirmary after school today? I want to talk to you a little," Ms. Hoa's voice was gentle but somewhat serious, making Thien Kim unable to refuse even though she was full of worry.

Throughout the entire school day that day, Thien Kim could not concentrate on anything, her mind kept wandering about the upcoming meeting. She wondered if Ms. Hoa intended to persuade her to return to the club, or worse, intended to officially announce that the club would find someone else to replace her role as vice president.

When school ended, Thien Kim stood in front of the medical room door for a long time, taking deep breaths many times before having the courage to knock on the door and enter. The room was empty, with only Ms. Hoa sitting behind the desk, without Minh Vu or any other members of the club - which made Thien Kim breathe a sigh of relief.

"Sit down," Ms. Hoa said, pointing to the chair opposite. "I won't keep you long, I just want to talk for a bit."

Thien Kim sat down, her hands clasped together in her lap, waiting for what Ms. Hoa was about to say. "You know what," Ms. Hoa began, her voice deep and warm, without any hint of reproach. "When she was twenty-four years old, she worked as a nurse at a district hospital. One night on duty, a patient in a traffic accident was taken to the emergency room in a very critical condition. She followed all the correct procedures and all the techniques she was trained in, but at a decisive moment, when she needed to make a quick decision about intubation, her hands suddenly trembled, her mind went blank for a few seconds — just a few seconds, but enough for another doctor to take the equipment away from her. you, do it yourself."

Thien Kim looked up at Ms. Hoa, unable to hide her surprise. She never thought that a calm, experienced woman like Ms. Hoa would also experience a similar moment of weakness.

"That patient eventually survived, thanks to the timely intervention of the other doctor," Ms. Hoa continued. "But she spent many nights afterward tormenting herself, wondering if she was worthy of doing this job, when at the most important moment, she couldn't trust her own hands."

"So what helped you get through it?" Thien Kim asked, her voice soft, feeling a deep sympathy gradually forming.

"An older colleague told me something that I remember to this day," Ms. Hoa replied, her eyes distant and reminiscent. "She said, 'You're not a machine. You're a human being, and humans have moments of weakness. The important thing is not whether you're ever weak, but whether you keep coming back to work, keep learning, keep trying, after you've been weak.' That sentence has followed me throughout decades of working, and I think that's exactly what you need to hear right now, Thien Kim."

Thien Kim felt tears begin to well up, not because of sadness, but because of a deep feeling of understanding that she had never experienced in this way before — not comfort from a peer like Tuyet Mai, nor emotional encouragement from Minh Vu, but sincere sharing from someone who had gone through a much longer road, had many more years of experience to contemplate the true meaning of imperfection.

"Do you know why I told you this story?" Ms. Hoa continued asking, her voice gentle but full of meaning. "It's not for you to see that I've also failed so you don't need to feel bad about yourself. It's for you to understand that imperfection is not a rare exception that only happens to incompetent people. It is an inseparable part of anyone who does this job, no matter how many years of experience they have. What distinguishes a true professional from a novice is not never making mistakes, but the ability to get up, keep learning, and Don't let a moment of weakness define your entire worth."

"But I'm afraid, if I go back, it will happen again," Thien Kim said, her voice trembling. "I'm afraid I will forever be someone who can't be trusted in real situations."

"You know, that's exactly what everyone in this industry is afraid of, to some degree," Ms. Hoa replied. "But that fear shouldn't be a reason for you to give up. It should be a reason for you to keep practicing, keep preparing, so that each time you face a real situation, you will have more tools, more experience to handle it, even though you will never reach a state of complete immunity to fear or freezing."

Thien Kim was silent for a long time, letting Ms. Hoa's words sink deep into her mind. She felt something in her heart begin to shift, albeit slowly, despite many doubts, but a real shift, different from the state of complete paralysis she had experienced for the past two weeks.

"And about Minh Vu," Ms. Hoa added, her voice a bit more cautious when touching on this sensitive topic. "I don't want to intrude on your privacy, but I think you should know, he has been very worried about you for the past two weeks. I see that he is as tormented as you are, he just shows it in a different way - trying to find ways to help, even though sometimes the way he does it is not very skillful."

"I think I misunderstood a lot of things," Thien Kim admitted, her voice fading. "I thought he was disappointed in me and wanted to keep his distance from me."

"Then maybe, you should ask him yourself, instead of guessing," Ms. Hoa said, a gentle, warm smile on her lips. "You've learned how to assess a situation before acting in first aid, right? Maybe that principle applies to love affairs as well."

Those words made Thien Kim laugh lightly, for the first time in many days, a real laugh even though it was mixed with tears. "I'll think about it," she said, standing up to leave, feeling much lighter than when she entered the infirmary just half an hour ago.

On the way home, Thien Kim walked slowly, giving new thoughts time to settle. She thought about Ms. Hoa's story, about the startling similarities between the fears of an experienced nurse and her own fears, a student who had only begun her first aid journey a few months before. She realized, perhaps the fear of imperfection was not something she needed to completely eliminate, but something she needed to learn how to live with, how to not let it completely control her decisions.

Upon arriving home, Thien Kim immediately called Tuyet Mai and recounted the entire conversation with Ms. Hoa. Her voice had regained vitality after many gloomy days. "You know, I never thought Ms. Hoa would go through the same thing," she said. "After listening to you, I feel less lonely."

"See, I told you that you weren't the only one who froze," Tuyet Mai replied, her voice clearly happy to hear her friend speak in a more lively tone than in recent days. "So what are you going to do now? Are you going to talk to Minh Vu?"

Thien Kim was silent for a moment, considering. "I think... I need to do it," she said finally, her voice still shaky but a bit more determined than before. "But I don't know how to start. I'm afraid that if we meet face to face, I'll be flustered again and won't be able to say everything I want to say."

"Then you should write it down first," Tuyet Mai suggested. "Just like how you always write in your notebook. Write down everything you want to say, then when you meet him, just let what you've prepared guide you. It doesn't have to be perfect, you just need to tell the truth."

That suggestion made Thien Kim feel much more relieved — having a specific plan, no matter how small, is still much better than just sitting there enduring the chaos in her head. "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere. "Without you, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to go to this step."

"You're brave enough on your own," Tuyet Mai smiled softly over the phone. "I'm just standing next to you to remind you."

After hanging up the phone, Thien Kim sat at her desk, took out a separate piece of white paper, not the familiar notebook, to begin sketching out what she wanted to say to Minh Vu - not a stereotypical apology, but the whole truth about fear, about misunderstanding, about an old story that had never been completely told. She wrote, erased, and rewrote many times, but this time, every time she wrote something wrong or unsatisfactory, she no longer felt panic like before, she simply crossed it out and rewrote it, as a natural part of the process of finding what she really wanted to say.

That evening, for the first time in nearly two weeks, Thien Kim opened her notebook and wrote a long paragraph, no longer the short, desperate lines like in recent days: "Today Ms. Hoa told me about a time when she also froze, even though she was an experienced nurse. I realized, perhaps I was wrong in thinking that perfection was a necessary condition to continue on this path. Maybe what I really need to learn is not how to never freeze again, but how to stand up after freezing, and still keep walking. Tomorrow, I will find Minh Vu, and this time, I will tell the truth, the whole truth, instead of just silently hiding."