I own a small bakery. Business has been slow. Rent is up. I was thinking about closing.
Last Friday, a teenager came in. He looked nervous. He counted out change for a cookie. He was short 50 cents.
"It's okay," I said. "Take it."
He ate it at a table, looking at his math homework. He looked stuck.
I used to be a math tutor.
I walked over. "Quadratic equations?"
He nodded. "I don't get it."
I sat down and helped him for 20 minutes. He got it. He left smiling.
The next day, he came back with two friends. They bought cookies.
The day after that, five kids came.
Apparently, he told the school, "The lady at the bakery helps with homework."
Now, my bakery is the after-school hang-out spot. It's loud. It's messy. There are backpacks everywhere.
Yesterday, I found a note in the tip jar. It was wrapped around a $20 bill.
"Thanks for helping my son pass math. A Mom."
I'm not closing the bakery.
I think I finally found my purpose.
It's not cookies. It's community.
In this picture, I was 110kg, working 3 jobs, and my blood pressure was around 170/110mmHg. I was not even up to 30 years of age.
I was in the obstetrics ward.
One delivery here, another emergency there, mothers in pain, monitors beeping.
It was the kind of shift where you forget to eat, but not to think.
Somewhere between checking one patient and rushing to another, a headache started.
The kind that feels like it’s speaking in code.
I grabbed the BP machine, wrapped the cuff around my arm, and waited.
170 over 110.
I stared at the numbers. My friend took one look at my face, took over my shift, and
told me to go home. I took some medications for my blood pressure and then I slept like my life depended on it. Maybe it did.
The next week, I signed up for a gym. I wanted to take back my health.
Two weeks later, in the middle of a workout, the room went dark. I passed out.
That was the moment I understood that you can’t sprint your way out of years of
neglect.
You can’t out-train burnout, and you can’t heal on adrenaline alone.
I rebuilt slowly with rest, better food, regular checks, and boundaries that stayed firm
even when life got busy.
That discipline kept me going. It also shaped how we build Aproko Doctor and AwaDoc:
With care that catches you before you hit the floor.
If you’re chasing a big dream, remember:
Your health is the engine. Protect it, or the
race ends early.
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