Mohammad Arfat Wani
On the first day of April 2026, I entered SMHS Hospital Srinagar not merely as a student, but as someone stepping into a profession that demands patience, compassion, and responsibility. A quiet mix of fear and excitement stayed within me. The long corridors, the steady movement of staff, and the silent pain on patients’ faces made me realize that this was not just a hospital, but a place where life is tested and hope is restored. My posting began in Ward 5 of the medicine department, where I met nursing staff including Bilal Sir and Rozy Maam, whose calm and welcoming nature eased my nervousness. I also observed my seniors, Imtiyaz Sir and Seerat Maam, who were skilled, kind, and humble. Alongside my fellow students Yasir, Owais, and Aiman, I began this journey with hope, though uncertainty remained.
On the very first day, our Clinical Incharge, Sakia Maam, came and asked us questions. It was not easy. She was checking both knowledge and confidence. She said one thing that stayed with me later—that observation is half learning. At that time, I didn’t fully understand it. We were told to maintain a clinical diary. Slowly I started writing it, but in the beginning, my time in the ward felt very limited. Most of the work was just medication rounds, and there were too many students, so chances to do things were less. I started feeling like I was just coming, watching, spending money, and going back without much learning. Sometimes I even felt maybe this is not useful for me.
On the third day, an incident changed everything. While breaking an ampoule, it slipped and a sharp piece pierced my thumb, causing heavy bleeding. I had done it before, but this time it went wrong. I was taken to the emergency department, where I was advised stitches, but I chose dressing. What stayed with me was not the pain, but the care. Tabasum Maam was concerned about me, administered an injection herself, and insisted that I take two days of rest because of the loss of blood. Her kindness showed me that healthcare is not only about treatment, but about humanity. After taking permission, I stayed home for two days, recovering and reflecting. I realized that if I truly wanted to learn, I needed to take initiative.
When I returned, I decided to move to the emergency department. With the help of my friend Junaid Shafi from GMC Srinagar, I shifted there. He personally brought me and stayed with me for hours on my first day. The environment there was active, demanding, and full of learning. It was here that I met Navi Maam and Rafiya Maam. At first, I thought they were senior students because of their friendly and simple nature, but later I realized they were staff members. I even told Navi Maam that she still felt like one of us. When she noticed my hands still marked with blood, she said with concern, “Zan chuth kath moormut,” which showed her attentiveness and care.
Apart from being exceptionally skilled, Navi Maam and Rafiya Maam were exceptional because of their humanness. These two taught me with a lot of patience, ensured I understood every aspect of what they taught, and made sure I did not feel intimidated in any way. My confidence levels grew thanks to them. Both of them showed great humanity in the way they treated patients and students. I remember how Rafiya Maam once introduced me to another staff member by saying, “This is my cousin,” a small gesture that made me feel valued. In their presence, I never feared mistakes, because I knew I would be guided with kindness.
In emergency, everything started feeling real. I began spending more and more time there. Sometimes I stayed till evening, sometimes I came back again early morning around 7. In around ten days, I learned more than I had learned before. I started understanding patient care in a real way. I saw how medicines are given—oral, IV, IM. I learned how to set IV lines, manage drips, insert cannulas, and give glucose. I also improved my blood sampling skills. Slowly my confidence increased. I also understood how important hygiene and infection control are. And communication—that was another big thing. Talking to patients and their families in a respectful way matters a lot.
I was present in the emergency ward throughout—from 10 o’clock till 2 o’clock at night. In this process, I gained valuable experience and learning opportunities. But during this duration, an accident happened due to the negligence of a patient’s attendant, resulting in a prick injury to me, which made Navi Maam and Rafiya Maam quite worried. They sent the patient’s blood sample for testing and even arranged a test kit for me. Luckily, the result was negative, but it was still a very stressful situation. I am extremely grateful to them for all the care they showed and for even consulting the doctor themselves.
They tried their best to arrange a room for me to stay, but it was not needed as I had friends in the area who helped me. I was given access to a doctor’s room, where I rested till 6 AM and then continued my duty.
Later, around ten o’clock in the morning, four students visited the emergency ward. They questioned my presence there since it was not part of my shift roster. As a result, Maam came to know and messaged in the group that I would be marked absent for seven days. It broke my heart, as my intention was only to learn.
During this time, I also started feeling a sense of responsibility. Many patients and attendants began calling me “Sir.” It felt good, but it also made me more serious. I started thinking carefully about my actions and behavior because people were trusting me.
The following day, while visiting my ward, the father of Member of Parliament Engineer Rashid was admitted. His brother, an MLA, and other family members were also present. I got the chance to draw a blood sample from him. It gave me a sense of satisfaction and confidence, as I could apply what I had learned.
One strong realization during this journey was the emotional connection with patients. Many times, I looked at them and felt like they were my own elders, like my grandparents. That feeling changed me. I stopped seeing them as just cases. I started caring naturally. Every patient has a story, pain, and struggle. I realized that dignity and respect matter just as much as treatment. That made me more certain that I am in the right field. I don’t just want skills—I want to be useful to people.
The encouragement of senior students like Rahil Sir and Shakir Sir also contributed to my growth. They guided me in processes and shared knowledge, helping me understand that healthcare learning is a collective effort. Looking back, I now realize that my frustrations in Ward 5 were actually beneficial. They pushed me to take initiative and make better decisions for myself.
I also extended an apology to the clinical in-charge, Saika Maam. Even though other students were present, I felt that I was treated differently, and it affected me deeply. It made me reflect on the environment I belong to. At times, I feel that my college is overly strict, and it should not be that way.
Despite everything, I acknowledge that the lessons I gained in the emergency ward are something I may never find in other wards. This experience strengthened my patience, courage, and love for learning.
I did not enter nursing with big dreams. For me, it was simple—to help people in some way. But now, that simple thought has grown into something stronger. I truly want to serve people with honesty.
To every nursing student, I would say one thing—don’t rush. First observe, then understand. Confidence will come slowly. Every patient teaches something. If your intention is genuine, you will grow naturally. This journey has just begun, but I already feel that real success in healthcare is not only about skill—it is about staying human, kind, and present for people when they need you.
(Mohammad Arfat Wani is a writer, social activist, and nursing student from Kuchmulla, Tral. He writes on social issues, culture, and public concerns with the aim of raising awareness and inspiring positive change. Email: wania6817@gmail.com)
