Hello, Surgery!

I can't remember being up this early in a long long long time. Have to be in the hospital by 6.30 am. All I want to say is, "Are you freakin kidding me?"

Hello, Surgery! I'm not ready, but here I come!

<3

Knots & Stitches

We were supposed to have our orientation for the surgery clerkship this morning. But since it was announced at around 6 am this morning (via text message), it did not give ample time for two of my groupmates to arrive on the city in time.

So orientation was cancelled but the day wasn't a total waste because I got to join the other interns (there are two groups rotating in Surgery, the Seniors and the Juniors) for their suture mini-workshop, which involved doing sutures on huge chunks of pork (which we'll feast on tomorrow!) and doing surgical knots.

I had fun doing the surgical knots. I'm such a klutz and I always have a hard time following simple motor commands. So I was thrilled when it did not take me an unreasonable amount of time to learn the knots.

I am excited. I believe surgery will be fun. So I hope I don't get disappointed.

We'll be the Surgery Junior Interns starting tomorrow. The interns on their second month will be the Seniors. I'm also on duty on my first day (which kind of sucks because tomorrow is a holiday which means office hours starts at 12 noon).

I might also get to scrub in a case tomorrow. The interns on duty tonight will update us on the OR cases for tomorrow. I absolutely have to review my surgical handwashing and all that stuff.

I hope I do well on this rotation. It's sayang that I spent my entire vacation month (Community Med / Skin Clinic Rotation) reading novels. I had plans of reviewing anatomy. Keyword: plans. I am hopeless.

<3

Life Updates

This will be quick life update:

1. WE WON THE HALLOWEEN PRESENTATION! This really deserves a post of its own because I want to describe how gay I was with the feathers glued to my face and the really long fake eyelashes and the glitters all over my hair. And I haven't even started on the costume.

2. Doug the Dog is gone. We finally gave her away. Or rather, somebody finally accepted her. And the good news is that her new family finds her super adorable. I also find her adorable. That is, when there's no poo and pee all over the house. Which is not often. So all in all, I'm just happy Doug (she's probably named Coffee or Sweetheart or something girly now) is happy with her new family. I couldn't bear the thought of giving her to the man who sells fish because I have images of Doug being chained and mistreated and given fish guts for dinner and stuff. So everybody's happy and all's well.

3. Vacation's over and I'm starting surgery tomorrow. In fact, by 9 am today, I'm supposed to be in the hospital for the orientation. I am excited, kind of. I have downloaded a lot of surgery ebooks and I hope I do well in this rotation. I have 2 months of surgery, which means I'll be in Surgery during Christmas. They say it's not too bad. But what I'm really excited about is getting the chance to be up close to anesthesia procedures. We don't have an anesthesiology rotation. Yes, I still have dreams of going into anesthesiology. I will definitely write more of the surgery rotation (unless of course I just collapse in bed everytime I get home... which is more likely.)

That's all folks.

Rabo Day Part 2

At last. (Yeah, I've got procrastination issues.)

Rabo Day itself started in the most normal way possible. I went to duty at the Skin Clinic while Bo slept the morning away at Diaz's place. I came around 12 and we had lunch together. Or at least I ate lunch and he watched.

Our plans for the afternoon include watching a movie. Keyword: Plans.

We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out at his house. I had practice that evening for Halloween Dance Presentation and I texted an excuse which i then sent to MY MOTHER!

So now I had to get home as fast as I could in case my mother asks why I'm NOT AT PRACTICE AND NOT AT HOME at the the same time. I could tell her it was Bo's birthday but then she'd probably say we already had a party the day before. (I live in constant fear of not being at home when mama calls.)

So anyway, I kind of panicked and Bo got mad. But the thing is, we're both passive-aggressive so our fights are kind of like this.

BO: *super silent*
Me: Are you mad at me?
Bo: No. *silence*
Me: You're mad at me.
Bo: I'm not mad at you. *obviously mad in a silent passive-aggressive way*

I was supposed to do the grocery that day and he insisted that we do it since we haven't done anything at all that day. He was super silent all the way and it made me frustrated and miserable at the same time because it was his birthday and all I did was to make him mad.

To make a long story short, I was so mad and miserable that I ended up in tears, which only made him annoyed. But I guess it did the trick because by the time we were nearly home, he wasn't quite mad anymore.

We ended up making his birthday dinner. He asked his mother for a complicated recipe which involved chicken and pineapple tidbits. I am hopeless in the kitchen by the way so I offered to do the dishes afterwards and to pay for all the dinner expenses.

When we got home, it was a DISASTER. I think I've mentioned Doug the Dog before. That puppy knows only a few things in this life. It involves eating, sleeping, eating, peeing, eating, shitting. So when I got home, there was all this lovely puddles of pee and mounds of poo in various strategic corner of the house (something about marking territories, probably) which I HAD TO CLEAN UP. Being sick doesn't help matters and even my stuffy nose did not protect me from the yucky aroma of doggy poo.

But in the end, I managed to clean up while Bo scolded Doug and trapped him in a big box.

He then proceeded to dish up a meal and I'm not saying this because I'm biased (or maybe I am) but it tasted pretty good. The dessert was another matter. It was so sweet and I couldn't take more than a few bites. I think there's still some kaong swimming in condense milk (all the pineapple tidbits got selectively eaten) in the refrigerator.

We then finished watching the Warrior's Way. (PS. I so love the baby!)

And so that ends Rabo Day.

I asked Bo if it was okay that he spent dinner with me instead of his family. I mean, I'm just the girlfriend. I came into his life a few years ago. His family has been there for him since forever.

But he said no, they didn't mind.

And I couldn't help thinking how lucky I am to be loved by this sweet, (occasionally childish) man-boy. <3

God-willing, there will be more Rabo Days for us in the future. And maybe, just maybe, I'd be the one cooking dinner then.

:p

Rabo Day Part 1 (Year 2)

Happy happy Rabo Day!

So Rabo Day was actually two days ago but I wasn't able to write about it on account of exhaustion and this SuperBug causing havoc into my already weakened immune system.

We had grand plans for the Pre-Rabo day, which fell on a Sunday, and it would have been perfect for everyone except that plans don't really happen as you plan it.

The original plan was to join the "Run for Melinda" (a fun run for people we loved and lost... a sad story but more on this someday), after which the barkada would go to Junie's place where we would have our cook-out.

Bo and I had already registered for the run. However, here's where things got awry.

As I mentioned, I've already been a bit sick for some days now. The night before the fun run, I had a fever. Add that to a runny nose and a hacking cough, I was in no condition to run at all. Then Avin got sick, too, and so Arame couldn't come. Junie and Mark slept through it all. In the end, only Kara, Diaz and three other capoeiristas came. And then June texted there was no electricity in their place.

Plan 2 was to have it on my house. But that would have been too much of a hassle to most people because I live FAR AWAY.

So Plan 3 was to have it at Diaz's apartment. June then texted she couldn't make it because she had to get her Tita from the airport. And where June goes, Mark follows. Avin was already sick, so that counted Arame out as well. So our guest list had already dwindled.

But we went through with it anyway. And it was fun. Diaz and Kara were there (obviously, since it was at Diaz's place). Neo and our Master Chef, Yotch(?) and Keng a.k.a. Papi (who was late because he spent the day photographing vain young ladies with pouty lips) also came.

We had Yotch's special pork adobo, Diaz's spagghetti (which was too salty because Kara added to much salt which was partly my fault because when she asked if we wanted the spag a little salty I said yes) and the super sweet fruit salad. All in all, it was very burpy.

I had to go home earlier than everyone though, which was a shame, because I still had duty the following morning.

And that ends pre-Rabo Day. Rabo Day itself is much more dramatic (and involves some tears and a lot of shit), but more on that later.

<3

Playing Hooky

Yes, I'm going to play Hooky. It's Sunday afternoon and the heat outside makes me think that the there's a huge gaping ozone layer hole right above my head. I don't fancy going out of the house right now. And besides, I have been blowing my nose off for the past few days. I'm not in the best state of health right now. (Note: I will never underestimate the power of a URTI's ability to make one's life miserable.)

And besides, I'm in no mood to dance.

We have dance practice in an hour. (And as I said, I'm playing Hooky)

It's been a Hospital tradition since time immemorial to have a Halloween Party. And the highlight every year is the BIG DANCE COMPETITION between the four big specialties: Pediatrics, Surgery, Internal Medicine and Obstetrics. And if there's something that doctors and soon-to-be-doctors-in-the-hopefully-near-future have in common, it's to WIN.

I am under Pediatrics. Last year, the department won so our residents are bent on winning again.

Did I ever mention that I have to left foots (or should I say feet?). Or maybe it's two rights. Whatever. The thing is, I'm NOT A DANCER. I don't have the proper eye-brain-extremities coordination. And I'm as stiff as a pole. Seriously. It's embarrassing.

But the thing is, I believe there's an inner dance diva deep down inside. Super deep down, by the looks of it. I actually want to dance. But everytime the dance instructors teach us a dance step, I stand there clueless. I can't seem to get my body to do the right thing.

We have two more weeks to pull this off. We don't have much time.

Que sera, sera...

<3

Lazy Monday Morning

It just came to me, that I haven't had a lazy Monday morning since March. Every Monday morning (and practically every morning) starting Internship has been a race against time and the barring of the attendance log-book. (For the record, it takes me about two motorcycle and two jeepney rides to get to the hospital.)

So life updates:

1. We got a new dog (or puppy rather) and his (her?) name is Doug. It was my siblings' idea. I would have been far more creative. Like... Blackie, or something. He's adorable and lazy and our house is turning into his very own doghouse. I hope he doesn't grow up too fast.

2. I haven't had my graduation pic taken yet. I'm a very camera shy person. And although I know everything's going to be edited later on, I don't want to go on cam with this big zit on my face. So I've been postponing and postponing and I bet I'm giving our class president a headache because the pictures need to be in so that the layout for Yearbook will be started early. Well at least I'm not the only one. I promise to have it taken tomorrow since I have free time. :)

3. The hardcopy of our Psychiatry presentation is weighing heavily on my mind. It's three months late and I'm considering not turning it in, hoping they've forgotten about it.

4. Practice for the Halloween Presentations start this afternoon. I think it's going to be fun and I'm just a wee bit excited about it. More on it later.

So. I know, I know. I'm terrible. I should get my lazy bum off this chair and start organizing my life and tying up loose ends. *sigh* But let me just enjoy this morning a little bit more.

:)

A Couch Potato at Alejandro's

I'm the most unadventurous person I know. My idea of a perfect weekend is to wake up late and spend the day rolling in bed, reading a book, or watching pirated DVDs of Grey's Anatomy or House, MD. I have to force myself to go out and have a good time. And when I actually manage to get myself out of the house and go somewhere fun, I end up wanting to go home by the end of half an hour.

I need to get a life outside the pages of my latest novel. (I am currently hooked to the Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time and am currently at page 300 of 3000-something)

So yesterday, the gang (my capoeira friends, the only people I hang out with) went to Alejandro's, this bar near our university hospital, for some fun, booze, and trivia night.

I have never set foot inside Alejandro's, despite the fact that: (a) this bar is a frequent hangout of my classmates (who I'm ashamed to say I don't hang out much with) and (b) during my 1st to 3rd year of med school I lived just 2 blocks away.

Alejandro's is a pretty cool place. It's small and homey and people seem to know each other. It was loud and crammed with people (two things I avoid like the plague). We joined Trivia Night for the first time ever and we were thrilled at not being the team with the least score. The questions were out of this world (or maybe simply just out of my time... e.g In the 1983 single by ... blah blah blah... I mean seriously, I wasn't even an egg cell / sperm cell then).

But I have to admit it was fun, simply because I was with my Barkada. So, I just might go again next Wednesday (or the Wednesday after because Bo has his final exams).

I'm wishing myself luck.

:)

Where's My Joy

"Canarinha, where's my joy?"

One of my most favorite person in the whole world used to always ask me that. She'd smile this big, sunshiny smile and I'd smile back, erasing this tiny frown which has a found a home between my eyebrows.

I am actually not a gloomy person by nature. (surprise, surprise!). Although once a friend described me as having this tiny thundercloud complete with rain and flashes of lightning, above my head. The same friend also told me that when the time comes that he sees me smiling first thing in the morning, he'll take it as a sure sign that the world is nearly coming to an end.

Another friend was more straightforward. "Why are you always frowning?" he asked me bluntly one day.

It kind of surprised me. The thing is, I am seldom quite aware of this tiny frown i'm always wearing. It's like I've grown so used to it that I don't see it anymore. I wonder if I've always been like this. I wonder if there ever was a time when somebody saw me as a sunshiny creature. Hmmmm. Not likely. I seriously doubt it.

A while ago, as I took temperatures and counted heartbeats and breaths , I started pondering about one of life's most asked question: how can I end up living happily ever after? After that, I saw this father looking through the nursery's glass window at his baby. He had such a tender expression on his face and I thought to myself, "That is love. That is joy." And as I watched, I felt joy in my heart too.

"Where's my joy?" The thing is, joy is everywhere. It's both outside and inside. It's in heaven and it's on earth. Sometimes, you just have to take a good look at what has always been right there in front of your face and inside your heart all along.

PCAPs and murmurs

My first day of Urban Community Rotation was basically a PCAP-y kind of day. We saw around 70 patients, 80% of which were children under 5 who either came in for complaints of cough, colds and fever or came in for follow-up after five days of antibiotic treatment for diagnosed PCAP.

There were just three of us doing the consultations. Basically everyone had to go through the Interns (that's me and my partner) before being seen by the Attending Physician. So except for a very few who went directly to the real doctor (because the interns had their hands full calculating recommended dosages), everybody went through us first.

My diagnostic reasoning went like this. Chief complaint of cough, cold and fever. Rales on auscultation? No = URTI. Yes = Pneumonia.

The whole day went like this with one or two hypertensives and one Acute Gastritis (Epigastric tenderness? Yes. Fever? No. Nausea & Vomiting? No. Psoas and Obturator Sign? No. Acute Gastritis) thrown in for variety.

My last two patients were two little girls, siblings. Both of them came for monthly check-up for the Feeding Program (or something like it). Both were underweight. The elder sister in particular, was below the -2SD line. Her lung auscultation revealed clear breath sounds. But then there was something not quite right with her heart auscultation. I detected a murmur on the left upper sternal border. A brief history from the mom revealed easy fatigability and episodes of circumoral cyanosis when she cries. Very suspicious.

When the AP confirmed it was indeed a murmur although she could not quite tell what kind (which makes me feel a bit better for not being able to better describe the murmur myself), part of me felt just a wee bit proud that I had detected the murmur and now she could be properly assessed for cardiac abnormalities. Part of me felt ashamed for feeling proud when every medical intern at this level should by now detect a murmur, for goodness sake!

And that's how thoughts of Pediatric Cardiology once again tickled my fickle brain.

Post-Pediatrics

I have just finished my 2-month Pediatrics Rotation and I've learned quite a lot of things like... umm... Well I'm pretty sure I learned something other than how to monitor 20 patients in one hour and how to do marathon histories. It's there in my head. Somewhere.

And I learned that I love working with kids.

I have always adored children. They're simply irresistible, even when they're crying their head off thinking you were there to give them injections. Okay, sometimes, just sometimes, I find them a wee bit annoying. I am human, after all.

In the middle of the rotation, I even considered going into Pediatrics. In fact, I'm still thinking about it. I'm thinking of becoming a Pediatric Cardiologist and then going into Invasive Cardiology. But then to get there, I have to go through diagnosing a gazillion PCAPs. For the past few months, we've been having a LOT of PCAPs. It's driving me a little nuts.

And so that's why I'm still not sold out to Pediatrics.

After doing the 2 month stint, I was overjoyed. I love kids. But 2 months of zombie monitoring is my limit.

Internship: Three Months Later

Or to be exact, three months and 7 days later.

If anybody's wondering where I've been for the last three months (not that I expect anybody to keep tabs on my whereabouts), well, I've been in the hospital (obviously), becoming the typical zombie/medical intern/monitoring machine.

So maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Here is a brief run-through of my first three months of internship. Human interest stories will be written and published after I have recharged my literary creativity which 3 months of internship has sucked out of my marrow.

Month 1: Community Medicine

During my 1st month, I was assigned to Community Medicine. This was the fun part. The only problem is that we had the bad luck of getting this rotation at the FIRST MONTH. Therefore, we are deprived of a vacation to look forward to. During Community Medicine Rotation, all we did was play poker and Tong-its, sing Karaoke at Manang Josie's store, play charades, watch movies, paint a mural, and eat a lot. Sometimes, we get patients for consultations.

Month 2: Internal Medicine (In)

This is the Zombie/Monitoring Machine Month. 90% of our time is spent monitoring vital signs. Seriously. The 10% is spent sleeping, eating, making histories, getting grilled during endorsements, and bagging during codes. I may have to make a whole post dedicated to the joys of vital signs monitoring (because we don't have monitoring machines) and bagging for long stretches of time (because we have a limited number of mechanical ventilations) just to get it out of my system.

But in fairness, I did learn a lot (and then forgot most it so to be brutally honest, I learned a few things). And for some weird reason, I actually kind of enjoyed. But maybe that's because I like Internal Medicine.

Month 3: Internal Medicine (Out)

For our second month of IM, we rotated in a Government Hospital. The thing I loved most about this rotation is that THERE IS NO VITAL SIGNS MONITORING! (Hurray!). And we get to do a lot of procedures. Blood extractions, FBC insertions, NGT insertions, Gastric lavage, IV insertions and more IV insertions. I think I have mentioned in a previous post that I'm a no-guts klutz who's always afraid of doing procedures. Well, I'm proud to say that I'm less of a klutz now. I've mastered NGT insertions, can find the right hole for female FBC insertions, and get 7/10 IV insertions. AND... I'VE INTUBATED! Twice. Actually, I was the last of my group to perform but what the heck. I've intubated and it's a great feeling. The patients died though. (We have a 0% survival rate after a code.) Still, I learned quite a lot.

My only complaint is that I am constantly TIRED. You would be if you go on duty every other day.

MONTH 4: Radiology/Psychia

For the first week, I'm rotating in Radiology. I'm not sure I'm learning anything, except how to recognize a normal CXR. All I do is get histories. I guess that makes me a Historian. (*lame joke*). The great part is that we have weekends off and no 24 hour duties! Yey!!!

So that's it for now. A wrap-up of my first quarter.

It's not all fun. But then again, it's not all misery.

32-27-30+

Today I had myself fitted for my new uniform. (Yeah, the title is my vitals and it isn't very impressive.) I don't know why but for the past 8 years of my college life, I have been having trouble with school uniforms.

Like in my first year of nursing. My blouse was whiter than my skirt. And it was too loose and I looked really bulky. And I just remembered. My white hospital duty shoes were mismatched, too. One was whiter than the other. I couldn't return it because I only noticed when I had been wearing it for a few weeks already.

My uniform for med school was pretty much the same. I still wore white skirts. But instead of a white blouse, we wore white blazers and white sleeveless shirts. But my uniform didn't turn out as expected. I don't know why the dressmaker bothered getting my measurements. She could just have pulled numbers out of the air and saved herself the trouble. She made my blazer a couple of sizes too big. I looked like a hip-hopper.

Given my history of ill-fitting uniforms, it's not unreasonable for me to worry just a little bit about my new uniform. I hope it turns out well because looking good makes you feel good. Well, at least most of the time.

My new seamstress is a nice elderly lady from our town. I like her. And she's been doing this her whole life so I'm a little more hopeful. I'm still keeping my fingers crossed.

First Day Jitters: Omigosh Internship!

When I was a kid, I get really excited about the first day of school. The excitement wears off by the second day. But the night before the very first Monday, I become insomniac.

It's hard to go to sleep when I'm thinking who my classmates were going to be that year, if I'd be sharing the same room with my crush this year, etc, etc. I also get excited about boring stuff like my new shoes and my new uniform and all that. Heck! I'd even get excited over my new notebooks!

This year, it's going to be different. Way, way different.

This will be my very, very last year of school. And not only that, I'm going to be a medical intern! And so maybe that's why I'm getting that funny, jittery feeling nine days earlier than usual.

I'm excited about a lot of new things. About my new groupmates. About my new responsibilities. The fact that I'll be able to participate in patient care and not just bluff about it so that I could pass a written history and physical exam to my preceptor. Stuff like that.

I'm also terribly anxious. In fact, I might even start going into a very, very mild panic.

Why? Because I'm going to be a medical intern. I don't feel the very, very least bit prepared. I don't know enough. And that makes me scared. Because what if I make some really stupid mistakes. Or what if an attending asks me a really simple question and I CAN'T ANSWER IT. Those are really valid fears.

But. Well, I read from a book written by a wise person, that perfect love conquers fears. And so instead of focusing on my fears, I'm going to focus on love. I'm going to focus on why I chose to go into this physically, emotionally and spiritually taxing field. I'm going to focus on the fact that I love being a doctor. That I love diagnostic challenges. That I love learning. I even like sticking needles into people's veins (although that kind of sounds sadistic). That I actually like being around sick people and my greatest dreams involve helping people get better.

I know it won't be easy. I'd probably wish I'd taken up Journalism or Interior Designing a million times in the near future. I'll probably cry a lot. I'll probably make a gazillion mistakes. I'll probably feel like hitting my head on the wall a lot... or wish the earth would open up and swallow me.

But then I'll probably also make a patient smile. Or get a right answer every once in a while. And maybe I'll finally stop feeling so scared of doing IV insertions. I'll hear a newborn baby's cry. And I'll probably be there when a person breathes his/her last.

It will all be terrible and wonderful and amazing all at the same time.

:)

Frowney

When I’m alone and not around people (obviously), my face relaxes. And when my face relaxes, it’s usually frowney. (Actually, I don’t think frowney’s a word, but if you’ve caught me relaxed, you’ll know what I mean.)

I hope it doesn’t mean that I’m a naturally gloomy person because I don’t feel the least bit gloomy.

Papa thought otherwise.

“Why are you always frowning? Smile more!” he commanded, and I plastered a big, toothy grin for his benefit.

“Are you having trouble about love?” he asked.

Actually, at that very moment, I was ironing the clothes while watching a very interesting episode of House. And I was wearing this really big headset. So no. At that time, I wasn’t really worrying about my lovelife.

But my papa begged to disagree. And so he launched into his “preaching mode” and I had to respectfully listened while feeling just a wee bit annoyed because I wanted to watch House and iron clothes in peace.

“You should be glad we’re here to guide you,” Papa said. “When I was growing up, nobody gave us advice.”

I was naturally chastised. And a little ashamed of myself. (Two days in a row, now!) My father’s mother died at a young age and my paternal grandfather (not the one who had his birthday recently) was an alcoholic who was a pro in child abuse. (I think he changed a little when his children all grew up. Ummm… I think.)

After the preaching, Papa served us “champorado” and that made me feel more inclined to smile. But then he started lecturing on how our lifestyle of drinking too much softdrinks and eating too much sugary stuff was bound to make us diabetic. He told us how important it was to keep healthy. I listened respectfully but I think his lecture would have been a little more effective if he had been slightly more sober. (He was a bit tipsy, hence the preachy mode).

So the moral of my story is: Smile.

:)

Tantrums

When you’re 24 years old, you’re expected, at the very least, to act mature. I’m very ashamed to say that yesterday, I acted like a surly, selfish brat. I feel sorry now and hopefully, it won’t happen again. (But I kind of doubt it.)

This was what happened.

My favorite cousin, whom I haven’t seen in ages, was at home because it was our lolo’s (grandfather) birthday the other day. We basically spent the whole day being lazy. We woke up late and spent the afternoon watching movies.

My mother came home at around 4pm. And she was rather mad that I hadn’t done any housework. It didn’t feel fair that I get a lashing out when my younger brother had spent the ENTIRE DAY in front of the computer and my father spent the afternoon drinking Tuba (coconut wine).

So I kind of lost my temper.

By losing my temper, I meant silently storming out of the house to clean our backyard. I even climbed the roof to get rid of all the leaves. After doing that, I entered through the kitchen door and folded the laundry. Then I washed all the dirty dishes and pans, and swept the floor.

My father said I should lose my temper more often.

Wild thoughts flew inside my head as I cleaned. I thought of just quitting medical school for a year and work so that I’d be able to pay for my tuition out of my own pocket. I didn’t like feeling like a burden to my parents anymore. I felt that part of the reason my mother was always griping was that she was having a hard time finding money for my incredibly expensive medical education. And the fact that I failed to keep my grades up and get a scholarship (I had promised to get that scholarship) did not help matters.

When I had cooled down a bit, I began to feel shame creeping in.

My mother is working sooo hard. And all she gets in return is a lazy daughter who couldn’t even keep the house nice and clean.

I’ll really try to change my lazy ways. My mother doesn’t really expect a lot. She just expects us to help, even a little. And I’m not doing that. Shame on me. I’m a terrible daughter.

So. Now I’m going to log off and sweep and mop the floor a little. And hopefully, she’ll feel better.

Cheerleader Skirt

This is the pattern for the female intern's uniform. I call this the Cheerleader Outif because... well... the skirt looks cheerleaderish. Except that they're long and not that bouncy.

Before I started my first year of medicine, I had insisted, that the skirt would look like this. I didn't know only the interns wore this skirt and that 1st-3rd year students wore simple pencil-skirts. I was sorely disappointed.

However, now that I am going into internship, I can finally, after 3 years of waiting (and studying a lot), wear the cheerleader skirt.

But only if my father finally get's a job. Or if I sell my beloved Yesu. We're having a huge financial crisis and nothing's definite. I keep having to stop in mid-sentence everytime I talk about internship because my mother keeps telling me that it might not happen.

But papa says he'll finally get a job next week. He's been saying that for the past week or so. I'm feeling optimistic.

Keeping my fingers crossed.

:)

Mothers

Today my mother and I had some quality bonding time. That is, we did the laundry together (the laundrywoman went AWOL) and then we bought ice cream (or I did but it was mama's money) and I ate probably 3/4 of it. We then watched a movie, had dinner, and now she's in bed after warning me not to sleep past midnight.

Most days, she wakes me up before eight to eat breakfast. I've been eating tuna for days now. Then she goes to work and I spend half the morning sleeping. I wake up, go online and cook rice before twelve. My mother goes home for lunch or sometimes leaves me to fend for myself. The first time, I burnt my pork chop. The second time, I was wiser and opened another can of Tuna.

I spend the rest of the afternoon studying/reading novels/watching anime while online and when Mama arrives home late in the afternoon, she orders me to take a bath. Sometimes we go to the market to do the grocery. Other times we just watch the late afternoon news and the late afternoon soaps. We have dinner and she watches more soap operas while I read novels or go online. Then we watch an episode of Secret Garden, a koreanovela, before she goes to bed and I sneak out to go online again. Sometimes she catches me and orders me to bed.

It almost feels like being an only child in a single family with only me and mama in the house.

Needless to say, I love my mother very much.

*

I think I've only seen her once. Or maybe twice. My friend's mom. I don't know a lot about her, except that she loves to play Bingo at the mall and hardly passes up the opportunity to do so and that she has to go through dialysis because her kidneys are failing. And that's why Joshi, one of my dearest friends, is not unfamiliar with the Emergency Room.

A few weeks back, I learned her mother was going through an operation. I didn't even know what kind. I heard it was a success and she was recovering well. But then the next thing I heard was that she passed away.

My other friend, Mary, lost her mom, too. Right in the middle of Hell Week. Unlike Joshi who had been taking care of her mother for years, Mary didn't really get much time. Her mother had gone away on some pretense and came back with Stage IV Breast Cancer. Perhaps she wanted to spare her family the pain. It was Mary, the youngest and only girl, who had the strength to care for her mother during those last few precious days. And yet, we never guessed. She went to school as always. She never complained. Never broke down. Never revealed the suffering she was going through.

And I can't even imagine what they went through... what they're going through. Because I don't want to know what it's like to walk in their shoes. I don't want to know what it's like to lose a mother.

24

Twenty four oceans

Twenty four skies

Twenty four failures

Twenty four tries

Twenty four finds me

In twenty-fourth place

Twenty four drop outs

At the end of the day

Life is not what I thought it was

Twenty four hours ago

Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You

And I'm not who I thought I was twenty four hours ago

Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You

Twenty four reasons to admit that I'm wrong

With all my excuses still twenty four strong

See I'm not copping out not copping out not copping out

When You're raising the dead in me

Oh, oh I am the second man

Oh, oh I am the second man now

Oh, oh I am the second man now

And You're raising these twenty four voices

With twenty four hearts

With all of my symphonies

In twenty four parts

But I wan to be one today

Centered and true

I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You

You're raising the dead in me

Oh, oh I am the second man

Oh, oh I am the second man now

Oh, oh I am the second man now

And You're raising the dead in me

I want to see miracles, see the world change

Wrestled the angel, for more than a name

For more than a feeling

For more than a cause

I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You

And You're raising the dead in me

Twenty four voices

With twenty four hearts

With all of my symphonies

In twenty four parts.

I'm not copping out. Not copping out. Not copping out.

Hell Weeks Day 10: Post-Practical Exam Blues

I have come to the conclusion that someday, I'm going to cause some serious harm to an unsuspecting, vulnerable patient. The depth of my ignorance appalls me. This is one of those moments wherein I seriously contemplate the direction my life is heading.

Ugh.

I really want to hit my head against the wall.

Stupid. Stupid. STUPID.

Ice cream

Studying ECG Interpretation while eating ice cream. Not exactly the perfect way to celebrate Valentine's Day. But at least I'm doing something heart-related. And I have ice cream.

<3

Valentines Day

A few days before Valentines, one year ago, a boy asked me out. This was totally unexpected for I had never been asked out on Valentines day. I was in a bit of a fluster, naturally.

Questions ran through my head. Did this boy like me? Or was this just a friendly dinner between two friends and it just happened to be Valentines that Sunday? Or did he just want to spy on the girl he secretly liked and that was why he wanted me along for decoy?

I could have spared myself the anxiety because on the day itself, an hour or so after I bought a new T-shirt because I had nothing casual and decent to wear... a few hours before the actual date, he cancelled.

I was actually a bit angry and slightly embarrassed for looking forward to the evening, but I graciously accepted that he couldn't make it because HIS MOTHER WASHED THE PANTS HE WAS GOING TO WEAR BY ACCIDENT AND HE HAD NOTHING TO WEAR.

I think if he had come up with a better excuse, I would have been less miffed.

So I ended up having dinner with my bestfriend because her date had ended quite early. We talked about it and had a good laugh. And then he texted, asking where we were and all, and if he could join us.

So we ended up together on Valentines day after all. The three of us went to IT park and talked about nothing in particular and star-gazed and had a good laugh at a lot of things. And thus ended Valentines day, 2010.

What struck me most that night, was the fact that although I had every right to be angry with that boy, I wasn't. Not one bit. I probably already loved him then already.

To the boy who backed out on Valentines Day, 2010, Happy Hearts Day! I love you much.

<3

***

Day 253

Eureka

Eureka moments are those crystal clear insights and revelations that come like lightning on a sunny day. And when they hit, they hit hard.

I want to be an anesthesiologist. From out-of-the-blue, that thought came. Unbidden. Unexpected. Totally off-track. Crazy. Perhaps it has been smouldering in the hazy areas in my head, forming slowly, bidding it's time.

When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a pediatrician. And then came Grey's Anatomy and I wanted to be a surgeon. Then for the past few years, I decided on a career on Internal Medicine, Cardiology in particular. Invasive Cardiology. I have never, ever, considered going into anesthesiology. Never. Not until that Eureka moment, two days ago.

So I may have been influenced by one of my favorite fictional character, Arase, the brilliant anesthesiologist of Iryu Team Medical Dragon, and my favorite blogger, Michelle Au, who revealed that anesthesiologists get to wear scrub suits to work everyday. Is that not the coolest thing ever?

I could picture out Mama rolling her eyes when I told her over the phone. My father was skeptic. Bo was supportive. My sister said it was a great idea because anesthesiologists earn a lot of money. *insert me rolling my eyes*

For the record, I'm not in it for the money, although I'd appreciate the bucks when they come. I need to feed my future family, after all, and have extra cash to buy all the books I want to read.

Why anesthesiology? Because, for a klutzy, timid, no-guts person like yours truly, the idea of being able to do all the cool things like intubating and sticking needles into people's spines and keeping them alive throughout the operation, is both amazing and fulfilling.

I may sound superficial but I'm not really. Anesthesiology has got my blood singing. For the first time in a long while, I am excited again. And that "What the heck am I doing in med school?" feeling is gone. Anesthesiology is an incredibly challenging, demanding field. And that's what I want to do for the next thirty years or so of my life. (Aside from all the other important stuff like having a family and working on my au sem mau and salto and mariposa.)

Good luck to me!

<3

Marinheiro

Dear Marinheiro,

I don't even know how to begin. Even until now, it doesn't make sense. How you, who loved life to the fullest, is no longer with us. And yet, we see you always. In every brown butterfly, in every ambulance, in every patient, in every roda, in every smiling face.

You carried the world on your young shoulders. But you carried the sun with you as well. And everywhere you went, you spread the sunshine, made lifelong friends, touched people's hearts, and forever changed their lives.

I never had the chance to get to know you well. That I regret deeply. And yet, for some reason only God can comprehend, I whom you barely knew, who wasn't even supposed to be there, was at your side, when you breathed your last.

I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive us. We are haunted still, by if-only and what-could-have-been. And we still wonder why. Why your life was cut short by such a tragic end.

We thank you for your friendship. For the laughter shared. For the good times and the bad times. For forgiveness.

You are with us still. Always. In our hearts.

Farewell, dear friend. Farewell, Marininho. You have sailed away and we cannot follow. One day we will all meet again. And we hope to see you at the other side of the shore, waiting.

Rest in peace.

PS. Wa ko ka-attend sa imo roda ug sa imo birthday party. Ge lang. Roda ug party2x nya ta tanan didto someday. Pero unta dugay pa. Hehehe. Peace!

Hell Week Day 2 (Post-exam)

It's Day 2 and I am drained. All I want to do is sleep.

**

Hell Week Updates:
Number of Exams Taken: 2
Number of Boxes Shaded Today: 120
Total Number of Boxes Shaded: 170
Number of Exams Waiting:20

<3

Facebook

My great-grandmother has a Facebook account. In all probability, she wasn't the one who created it. But still! Having your great-grandmother on Facebook is way, way cool.

<3

Hell Week Day 2 (Pre-exam)

Fell asleep around midnight and could not even recall if I even tried setting the alarm clock. I think not. It was on of those 5-minute naps which lasts for definitely MORE than 5 minutes.

Got stuck in the reproductive system. And I haven't even begun studying/cramming/reading-through-past-testpapers for the three other modules.

All I can say for now is that it is pointless getting angry with your own body for knowing what's good for it.

*back to cramming*

<3

Hell Week Day 1

Today's accomplishment consists of shading 50 small, rectangular boxes for the last Module Quiz ever. To show how serious I was, I even bought a new pencil.

I don't want to think how many more small, rectangular boxes are yet to be shaded.

Tomorrow, we start with the Block Finals. Block Six consists of 4 modules: Reproductive System (6 cases), Endocrine system (4 cases), Neonatology (4 cases) and Connective Tissue Diseases (3 cases). And of course, there's the countless lectures in powerpoint format to read through. All of these, I have to cram inside my head for the next 14 hours.

It's a Herculean task. If I had started studying a few weeks back, maybe it would have been easier. But the thing is, a few weeks back, I had a lot on my plate. There's never a dull moment in medschool.

The reality of the situation is, it is NOT remotely possible for me to read and retain everything with the remaining time that I have. It's not remotely possible for anyone. Our last resort is photocopying the Block 6 Final exams for the last three years, run through the questions, check our books for stuff we have forgotten, and keep our fingers crossed in the hopes that some questions get repeated.

I really have to do well for the next three weeks. I barely have a glimmer of hope when it comes to bagging that scholarship. But then, I must not give up. Miracles still happen.

Besides, I must become an intern in April so that I'd get to wear that much-coveted pleated white intern skirt (cheerleader skirt)!

<3

***

Hell Week Updates:
Number of Exams Taken: 1
Number of Boxes Shaded: 50
Number of Exams Waiting:21

8th

I was so busy cramming for all my life is worth that I didn't notice the date. He didn't either. Not until he finally noticed those very significant numbers on his computer screen. I didn't until he told me.

We fought just a few hours ago. Personal differences. And with his cellular phone busted, communication is extremely difficult. (How in the world did people manage in the pre-cellular phone era??)

But the thing about us is that we have never fought or stayed mad at each other for more than 24 hours. And that's one of the best things and the reason why at 8 months, with all the drama and parental conflict and long distance issues and personal differences, we are still together.

I love you, Mama Deer. Happy 8th! We've got a few thousand more days to go but we're getting there.

xoxo,

Papa Deer

<3

Countdown: 247 days down, 3405 days to go

The Day Before Hell Weeks

To sum it all up in one word: Overwhelmed.

I'd like to start ranting about Hell Weeks, about how sadistic the one who made the schedule of exams is, how absolutely impossible it is to study everything, how there seems no point in the whole thing because how can there be learning when they don't even give us an adequate amount of time to study, and all that.

But ranting's counter-productive and I don't have time for that so I'll just let them off for now. Maybe I'll post-Hell Weeks rant or something.

I don't know where to begin. So okay, the fact that I'm terribly disorganized has something to do with that. If I had organized all my stuff, studied a little bit before things got out of hand, I wouldn't be panicking. But that's wasted milk. Bridge under the water. I have no time for regrets.

In fact, I have no time to even blog. But I just have to let off a little bit of steam and clear the cobwebs in my head before I start focusing.

No, I'm not procrastinating.

Well, maybe just a little.

<3

At This Point

Yesterday, we had our very last SGD (small group discussion). Starting Monday, we will be going through what we call "Hell Weeks". That is, three weeks of non-stop examinations. The Finals of all Finals.

We were pretty sentimental yesterday. Pictures galore!

But now, a day after, when I'm home and trying to study for my first exam on Monday, I try to really think about the implications of all these.

Our years of formal schooling ended yesterday.

No more SGDs. No more first five jumps (where we get trigger cases and brainstorm and come up with problems & hypotheses & learning goals), no more task sheets and division of tasks (technically, we were not allowed to do that and were expected to READ EVERYTHING but that is so unrealistic) no more cramming & reading our tasks two hours before the Synthesis (where we do the reporting), no more spending for acetates or writing on the whiteboard when we were on a low budget, no more concept maps and no more SGD preceptors.

What it all means, actually, is that at this point in time, medical school has taught us all it could. At this point in time, we should have learned all that we could. And that leaves me with a very important question.

What have I learned?

So... ummm... hmmm... That's an interesting question.

My follow-up question is: What in the world have I been doing the past three years????

After Hell Weeks, we have a month of reprieve, and then we go into the Pit. Namely, the hospital. The real world arena of medicine. We'll be interns! We'll be responsible for and taking care of REAL PATIENTS. We'll be part of a medical team.

Am I prepared for that??

Well, I better be.

To my classmates, future colleagues, and the reason for my sanity & insanity, the best years are still to come. Thank you for the memories.

:)

My Story

A few days ago, I met one of the most remarkable women of all time. Namely "Nanang", my great-grandmother. At 89 years old, she stands tall, wears a serene smile, and has natural dark hair with a few strands of white. At 89, her mind is sharp, her humor intact. She radiates peace and kindness and wisdom and love.

In her 89 years, she has accomplished a lot. By working in the land she inherited from her father and selling eggs for a living, she has raised and educated her children, her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. At 89 years old, her grandchildren already have grandchildren.

She told us a few stories. Her life in the US (she's been living there for around 4 years, being taken care of by her grandchildren), her tour in the Holy Land, how she met my great-grandfather, and a few stories of her youth. She told me that my grandmother, Lita, who died before I was born, was smart at school.

I wish I had asked for more stories. I wanted to know what her life was like. I wanted to know what my grandmother was like. I wanted to know their stories, to catch glimpses of a younger world, of a generation slowly fading and giving way to the new.

I may never get to see my grandchildren. I may never even have children. Only time will tell. But maybe by writing, I can give the future generation a glimpse of what life was like in my time.

Other than, writing is my creative outlet. My expression.

So these are my stories.

Color Change

I've decided to add a little color to my blog. Not that it matters to anyone but me. My life needs a little color right now.

I always have problem dealing with my blogs. I have lots of them (active, inactive, miscellaneous forgotten) that it's a little hard to organize my disorganized thoughts into posts and then fit them in whatever blog seem most appropriate. So I've decided to make this blog the official blog of my "flights" in this journey called life. (Char.)

Well, that is until I grow bored with it and make another one.

.xoxo.

Dare You To Move

Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
Everyone's here

Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift
Yourself up off by the floor

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
The tension is here

Between who you are
And who you could be
Between how it is
And how it should be yeah

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift
Yourself up off by the floor

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself
To lift yourself up off by the floor

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened before

Happy New Year!

Happy 2011 from the world's worst (or best) procrastinator ever!

Life has been passing by like a blur the past few days. One minute, there were fireworks in the sky and the next thing I knew, twenty-four days have gone by. I can't even begin to enumerate all the things that have been happening lately. For one, they're basically boring stuff like sleeping when I should have been studying and driving in absolutely crazy traffic jams and getting stuck in an intersection for about ten minutes because all drivers are basically insane and because the traffic enforcers were having their snacks.

But then let me enumerate the more interesting stuff, such as:

Moving to Holliwood!!!

Well, technically, it's still Holliwood. My new address is Holliwood St, D Homes, M City. We moved at the end of last year. It's one of those social housing units where ALL the houses LOOK ALIKE except for those units owned by ridiculously rich people who can afford to renovate their homes.

Our house has the barest of necessities. Our only real luxury is the new refrigerator we bought on New Year's eve so we could have Mango Float for dessert during the Media Noche.

I'm still trying to adjust. It's been basically crazy. I'm doing stuff like waking up at 5 am and driving to school by 6 am, arriving at school by 6.30 am and sleeping in the car till 8 am. The traffic is driving me nuts. By the time I get home from school, I am so tired that it takes all my strength to climb up the stairs and collapse on the bed.

In addition, I now have to do my laundry (and the towels and the bedsheets) and cook (or coerce my brother into preparing the food), wash dishes, wash the car, tidy up the place, etc. I am behind the washing and there's still a mountain of clothes to iron. The only thing I enjoy about all this is doing the grocery.

And to top it all, I still have to keep my grades up. *Sigh*

I am so drained that I have come to the point of buying vitamins and actually taking them instead of letting them expire or get molds or something! That's how drastic the changes have been.

But in a way, I'm glad we moved into our own place. I like having a place to call "home" and being able to invite my friends for sleep-overs and practicing my housewifely skills and all that. It's like a practical exam for the day I'd have my own home. I hope I pass.

With the way things are going, I kind of doubt it. Right now I'm blogging when I was supposed to be studying, my brother is doing his assignment, and the meat is slowly being defrozen. It will probably take another half hour to thaw. It's 8.30 pm and I'm hungry. Looks like we'll be eating at 9.30 again.

Oh, well. Practice makes perfect.

:)

Note: The waking up at 5 am is a bit of exaggeration. Well, the truth is, we did exactly that the first week of school because Mama was still around to make breakfast and bully us into taking baths in freezing water. Now that she's back home, my siblings and I are back to waking up late (6 am) and not eating breakfast.