In retrospect， working for CCH was perhaps one of the most exciting yet daring enterprises that I have ever undertaken. Ever since childhood， I have been carefully placed in an invisible shield of complete safety. I have never made any big mistakes; not because I was just that perfect but because there simply was no reason for mistakes. My brother and I had been constantly reminded of the things that we ought to do and the things that we never should do. Basically， the road was beautifully paved for us – we just needed to walk on it. 
Things got even more complicated or， in other word， safer when I started following my brother’s footstep and entered a laboratory in 9th grade. Some might think that laboratories are dangerous and that it might turn people into Spiderman or， more realistically， give people cancer or all sorts of diseases; however， it might as well be the least interesting (other than those short moments of discovery) and safest place on Earth. In this four-walled room， there were only two things that I could do and have done: constant pipetting and mental gymnastics. After 4 years of pipetting and mentally jumping around the fine line that separates craziness and reality， I have had enough. The most excitement that I have gotten out of staying in the laboratory for the past four years was the feeling of discovery followed by another discovery that disproved the previous one. The cycle went on and on. Getting bored of this endlessness， I decided to try something else. This was the road from which I came. This was the place from which I fled. 
I wasn’t looking for danger， but I sure wasn’t looking for anything that would put me back into that dome of security and monotony. I wanted to grow more branches to my withered tree of personality， to add more sauce to this plain bowl of rice. Therefore， I needed something that would open up the window to the outside world. Coincidentally， Dr. Kao has given me what I asked for – in fact， more than what I asked for. She allowed me to see the world， help those who are in need， and， most importantly， introduced me to the world of reality. I no longer see the world through a bulletproof glass. 
Three days after the start of my internship， I was shipped off to Myanmar with a group of God-loving seminary students and ready-to-serve medical personnel. Even though I wasn’t really ready to face uncertainty of this grand scale， my “hit-me-with-all-you’ve -got” mentality worked perfectly during those 12 memorable days. I seemed to narrow my everyday life to three simple acts: survive， serve， and cooperate. In many Third World Southeast Asian countries， life is much more different than the one in advanced economy countries such as Taiwan and the United States. Survival， instead of luxury and quality， becomes the only foundation of life in these third world countries. So what does survival mean? It means that there is nothing wrong with showering with cold water， sleeping with insects that you would rather not know where they came from， and living nowhere near 21st century. The cold water wasn’t bad. I have devised a tactic of holding breath， dumping water， and getting out – all in just a few minutes. However， dealing with the insects was much more perturbing. We’ve tried all sorts of techniques to prevent those annoying bugs and amphibians from crawling into our mouth. In the end， the best thing was to wear a simple mask， close our eyes， and hope that we would eventually start believing that those bugs never existed. Lastly， being in Myanmar has served as a perfect mental hospital for “Internet lovers” like me. Everything that has happened in the world no longer come flying into my hands. In fact I needed to hunt for things that have already happened for a long time. I could no longer simply go online and know the things that were happening in America or Taiwan. I was sailing aimlessly in a sea of uncertainty， and it looked like I would never catch up to the present. Once again， in order to survive， I could only embrace the acceptance of reality.
The sole purpose of the mission was to provide medical assistance and preach The Gospel in Myanmar. Therefore， my second behavior – to serve – comes readily into existence. The hardest thing that went hand-in-hand with serving helpless people was that I needed to give up the concept of “I” at anytime， in any place， and for anyone. There was no such thing as too sick to help， too old to support， or dirty to touch. We were there to provide unequivocal love and unparalleled service – nothing less. We had to work beyond expectation. Finally， the most important thing is cooperation. Without cooperation， service and survival would not have happened. The ability to cooperate with others may be a simple concept but it sure is impractical. Everyone has the natural inclination to protect himself， his actions， and his beliefs. However， this kind of self-defense， lack of cooperation， or even the slightest enmity between two leaders would definitely ruin this medical mission. We were there to serve， not to bicker with each other. This means that two conflicting ideas could never meet each other; either one has to sacrifice or both have to compromise. Even though people in group would sometimes let their inner pride break out， others often were willing enough to compromise or even sacrifice. We were in Myanmar to catch the problems of its people， not the other way around. Thankfully， we never let the Myanmar people witness whatever problems that we had brought with us from Taiwan.
Although we were in Myanmar to provide service to its people and spread the word of God， I believe we have benefitted more from this mission than the Myanmar people. I not only got a chance to see the real world but also learned to be more patient and obedient. When there are no decisions to make， acceptance， obedience， and appreciation become easy concepts. I no longer whine about living in a cheesy hotel or a motel without air-conditioning – when you have seen the worst， life becomes beautiful. I may have helped relieved the Myanmar people of their discomfort， but it was the Myanmar people who have relieved me of my inveterate behaviors and needs. Ironically， when things were taken away from me， everything becomes easier and more readily acceptable.
I did not stop learning after I come back from Myanmar; in fact， I have learned as much as I have in Myanmar. After I come back to civilization， Dr. Kao started showing me the world of reality. Working under her jurisdiction， I have learned the true meaning of having a job. Back in school， every “child” was protected in a sphere of excellence. No matter how badly a child performs， the ones who love the child would always be there to clap their hands and congratulate him or her. The rule is that even though every child does not deserve an award， everyone receives one. However， in the real world， parents are no longer there to say how beautiful one’s ugly production looks. Everything is watched by scrutinizing eyes that wouldn’t miss any tiny mistakes. Furthermore， what is supposed to be one’s creation no longer is his. Changes and modifications become the two most common phenomena. Therefore， knowing this， I could do nothing other than respect the office hierarchy – the system that puts me way at the bottom of the pyramid. Even though， at first， I did not really enjoy being crushed under this heavy system， I eventually started to respect every aspects of it. I had to either learn to like it or at least learn to live with it. I believe， sometimes， the best thing parents could do is to let go of their children， knowing the fact that they now have a greater chance to grow up. So why did I so quickly put a coin in my mouth and crossed the rivers of Styx and Acheron? My logic was simple: If I ever want to even dream of becoming an Officer of the United States Navy， I better start swallowing these nasty little pills of life as if they were the cure for cancer. And I did. I gladly swallowed them， knowing that I would one day come out of the other end of this terrifying tunnel as a better man – a man of honor， respect， and dignity.