"You're going where?" a neighbour asked. I told her Guatemala, then added, "on a surgical trip." Further explanation could have followed, and should have, but I was tired of talking. I wasn't in the mood. With one week to go, my mind was on other things, like packing, and I felt I owed it to myself to give the minimum response. Also niggling at me was the sense that people do not necessarily care about my life-changing experiences, even if this time I have been given the opportunity to do a job that is meaningful, attached to hard work and risk, and disconnected to things. To be honest, I don't blame them. Why should we get all excited about someone else's adventures, really? I'm as guilty of this as anyone else. Recently, I was handed a
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