Hello, welcome to my space

I'm Chu Thi Phuong Anh

I didn’t choose nursing because I thought I was strong, but because I want to learn how to support others with steadiness and grace. Every time I find myself patient enough not to judge, kind enough to understand what isn’t said, I know I’m heading in the right direction. And that’s what I want to grow with—the kind of path where the heart is always the first to lead.

I’m not quite sure when I began paying attention to the smallest things. Maybe it was in the clear, hopeful gaze of a child sitting by the window of a makeshift classroom, or the rough, cracked hand of a shy little girl from the highlands reaching out to ask me why her skin itched. Questions like those aren’t in textbooks, but they taught me the quiet power of listening with empathy.

I’ve played the 16-string zither at Viet Nam National Children Hospital, where tiny hands clapped along like whispers of hope. I’ve seen my mother standing in the middle of a crowded market, arms full of jars of fish sauce, eyes weary but determined to prepare a proper New Year’s meal. These seemingly small moments taught me profound lessons—about gentle care, about love that speaks not in grand gestures but in quiet persistence. I don’t carry grand ambitions; I simply hope to stay calm enough to listen, and observant enough to know when someone needs comfort. If I can be the one who sits beside someone when they’re tired, or holds their hand when they hesitate, then I already feel fortunate.

I didn’t choose nursing because I thought I was strong, but because I want to learn how to support others with steadiness and grace. Every time I find myself patient enough not to judge, kind enough to understand what isn’t said, I know I’m heading in the right direction. And that’s what I want to grow with—the kind of path where the heart is always the first to lead.

I’m not quite sure when I began paying attention to the smallest things. Maybe it was in the clear, hopeful gaze of a child sitting by the window of a makeshift classroom, or the rough, cracked hand of a shy little girl from the highlands reaching out to ask me why her skin itched. Questions like those aren’t in textbooks, but they taught me the quiet power of listening with empathy.