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.