I’m an obstetric anesthesiologist by training, and honestly, a satirist because it’s the only way to stay sane. Most days I’m tucked behind the drapes, dealing with misbehaving vitals, badly timed alarms, and patients who may or may not be fully committed to consciousness.
I was clinically diagnosed with depression in 2018, and it has been relapsing ever since. I look fine most of the time. I function. I teach. I work. Then the heaviness shows up again, stays for a while, and eventually lets go. It comes and goes in cycles, and I have learned to move with it even when it feels like it is pulling me under.
This blog has become part of how I cope. Writing helps me steady myself when the quiet depression returns. It gives me a place to breathe and make sense of the days when I feel like I am slipping beneath the surface.
So this space is my cool down zone. Part storytime, part rant, part emotional first aid kit. Expect thoughts on medicine, life, and the strange challenge of staying awake in a system that seems built to knock everyone out, figuratively and literally.
I split my time between the national university hospital and a cancer hospital. They keep me grounded, tired, and every now and then, genuinely inspired.
When I’m not professionally inducing paralysis for kaching, I do what many men pretend is a personality trait. I read. Sometimes it’s an actual book, sometimes it’s an e‑reader glowing like a tiny sun. I park myself in cafés or on gym benches and look like a misunderstood philosopher who wandered off from his thesis defense.
On the more serious side of my life, I get real fulfillment from teaching and making complicated things less painful. I like mentoring fellows, breaking down messy concepts, and creating learning materials that, with luck, hurt less than a misplaced epidural.
And when I need a break from all that, I hang out with my cat Zekie. He is chaotic, clingy, and fully convinced he is the center of the universe. I named him after Hezekiah, a righteous king from the Bible, but the truth is Zekie is nowhere near righteous. He specializes in keyboard sabotage, mug tipping, and surprise Zoom appearances that I never asked for. Playing with him feels like a mix of cardio and comedy, and he reminds me every day that a little mischief is good for the soul.
One time I had a bowl customized with his name, and the seller just could not get it right. After a few failed attempts, I finally said, “Fine, Ezekiel.” That was the moment his name shifted from Hezekiah to Ezekiel, even though he has always been Zekie to me. When people ask what his real name is, I tell them it is Hezekiah Ezekiel, because apparently one biblical name was not enough to contain his personality. That is him quietly judging me for staying in bed until noon.
Ether Diaries 