.small holiday.

It's supposed to be the last day of my Patho review, and yet here I am typing who-knows-what on my computer, with a blank look on my face.

Hey, cut me some slack. I haven't written anything in ages.

I guess there's a certain charm to staying at home most of the time. I get to do things at my own pace, no one hurrying me (well, except Papa, whose personal clock is always 30 minutes fast), and nothing bothering me. I like the peace, the quiet, and the relaxing atmosphere at home.

But maybe sometimes, it gets too quiet.

I don't know. Ate has been married for several months already, and yet the reality of it is only sinking in now. It feels strange to not have her come barging in through my bedroom door when she comes home from the office just to say "Hi" and let me know she's arrived. The room across mine stays empty throughout the week, and the feeling of loneliness settles in when I enter to rummage through my Ate's stuff.

I have learned to look forward to weekends when she and Kuya Enos will be here again.

Don't get me wrong. Ate's wedding is definitely one of the happiest moments our family shared, and she couldn't have possibly found a better man to marry than Kuya Enos. Pero pagbigyan niyo na ko. Nag-iisang kapatid ko 'yun e.

I miss the old, carefree days so much. Yet, I know I can look forward to an even better future as our family continues expanding, growing.

I'll be seeing you soon Raine. Tita Len loves you so much already.

************************

I thought I wanted to write, but it seems like I've hit the wall. I wonder why. Beats me.

Oh well. That's enough small holiday for tonight.

.graduation thoughts.

Yesterday, we had the UPCM Class 2009 Graduation and Internship Closing Ceremonies at the UP Theater in UP Diliman. It was the culmination of five years (and just a year for some) of braving a grueling medical education together. As a class, what we were all working for was finally conferred upon us... the degree of Doctor of Medicine. It was the end of an era.

No offense to the people who worked hard in making this ceremony as seamless as possible (because it was definitely one of the better graduation rites I have seen), but yesterday was, for me, to say the least, anticlimactic.

I don't know why that was. During my high school graduation, I was bawling my eyes out at the end of the program and was hugging everyone in sight. The thought that I would probably not see my classmates again was a painful truth that was hovering in the air. The future looked scary and I felt alone facing it without the friends I had made in the past four years.

But yesterday, all I could feel was... nothing.

Now don't get me wrong. I met some of the best people and the truest friends a person could ever have in med school. They were not the most popular people in class (and neither was I, BTW); on the contrary, we were more often than not MIA during class activities. But these were the people I knew I could always count on no matter what, people who always had my back, people I was willing to do anything for. I will never trade them for anyone else. They were my friends and colleagues, and I love them to pieces, and I will definitely miss them. I'll miss hanging out with them in that easy and comfortable manner, exchanging witty quips and smart-alecky comments with them, ranting endlessly together about duties and workload and classmates and what-have-yous, discussing serious life issues and apprehensions about the future, and just being with them.

It wasn't that.

Maybe I would have felt differently if I graduated from med school with a bang. I mean, I can just imagine how high my outstanding classmates must have felt as they repeatedly climbed up the stage to receive their awards. I know, I know, this sounds like the bitter ramblings of an ordinary, average student, but it's really not. I am happy for my classmates, and I know that all the awards were more than well-deserved (Hi Dear! Congrats again!).

It wasn't that.

I really, really do not know what it was. I've hyped up my graduation so much to my family and friends, because I want them to feel just how much I appreciate them for simply being in my life during these times. I want to make sure my parents know how extremely grateful I am to them for pulling out all stops just to get me through med school.

Maybe it is because, after seven years, I still feel like I have not accomplished anything great. I am not talking about graduating with honors or something like that, because I never even dreamed of that from the start. It just feels like I didn't do anything special. I don't know if this will come off sounding egotistical, but it's quite humbling to think that I passed through the UP College of Medicine and no one even noticed. Was it all just a waste of time? I was listening to our Class Valedictorian, and though he did give us a good speech, I couldn't help thinking that he left a lot of significant things unsaid, and had I been given the opportunity, I would have said them. But I was, sadly, not in any position to do so. Because who am I to speak anyway? I never did anything extraordinary for the class. Even after seven years, I was still just one of the many nameless faces in the crowd.

Maybe because, deep down inside us, we all crave recognition. It does not exactly have to be in the same form with everyone, but admit it, we all desire it. We all want to our most heroic efforts to be noticed, no matter how much we deny it. We get disappointed when we pour out our hearts and souls into something, and no one even bothers to care. We feel hurt, cheated, and betrayed. We feel deprived of what is due us.

Looking back on the past few years of my life, I start to ask myself, "Was it all worth it?" All those sleepless nights, all the holidays I missed spending with my loved ones, all the energy poured into trying to help save the lives of people I barely know... do they even count for something? Did I gain anything in the process?

The answer, just now, is coming right at me. Yes, we do crave recognition. But the real question is, are we looking for it in the right places?

I realize now that my frustration stems from the fact that I tried too hard to gain that recognition from the people around me. I was never late for school or for duty, I did all my tasks to the best of my ability, I took care of my patients as well as I possibly could - and I got burnt out because no one cared enough to tell me how good a job I was doing. I felt like it was all for nothing.

Real recognition, however, comes from the inside. It is the security in knowing that all your efforts, whether people recognize them or not, are never in vain. It is the peace that comes with knowing that Someone so much greater than the most distinguished award-giving body in the world is pleased with you, is smiling upon you every single time, and loves you so much that He has given everything He has for you. It is the calmness in knowing that no one can ever nullify or revoke all the good seeds that you have been sowing, and that no one can hold back from you the abundant harvest that is sure to come. It is the serenity that comes with seeing change appear right before your eyes in the lives of the people you know you have somehow touched even in small ways, knowing that God has enabled you to do something special for them.

My good works may not have been enough to earn me a plaque of recognition from my College. I may have fallen short of their standards a lot of times, and I know a lot of other people are better than me in many aspects. I probably will not be voted "Favorite Classmate" anytime soon, and I am assuming that no one will erect a monument in my name.

But I don't care anymore. Let them have their share of fame and glory. Let them fight each other's heads off as they battle their way to the top.

I was trained to be so much more than that.

My God has recognized me, even before I was born. He knows me, He loves me, and He tells me that He is always pleased and happy with me. He has prepared the way for me, and is lovingly cheering me on every step of the way.

God's recognition is all I need to keep me going... and I know I already have it! That's the beauty of it. I am looking forward to hearing Him say to me, "Well done, my daughter, well done." Jesus is my more-than-enough Reward.

With my God, there is no way but up. Real promotion, after all, comes from Him alone.

BRING IT ON!!! Wooo-hoooo!


****************************


I love you Dr. Paolo Victor Nartea Medina. Here's to the seven years of amazing friendship that we've shared, and to the countless years more! ;)

.for papa.

This morning, I was fixing my room to give it some semblance of a decent study room in preparation for the intense hours of burning the midnight oil I have planned over the next few months. I was clearing my table and laying down books I planned to go over first when I realized that I did not have a good enough light to read under.

"Pa, may lampshade ba tayo? Medyo madilim kasi sa kwarto ko e."

I knew we didn't, and I was half wishing my dad would go and volunteer to buy me one. But he didn't.

Without wasting a single second, he made me one.

Using everyday materials we had lying around the house, Papa provided an extra light above my table. Now, I can read clearly, and we didn't have to spend a single cent. And my dad was still smiling after what I put him through.

When I was younger, I remember telling my mom that for the life of me, I could not imagine Papa courting her. With his strict and sometimes short temper, I simply could not picture him all sweet and tender towards my mom during the early days of their relationship. There were times during my teenage years when I resented him for imposing all kinds of rules on me and my Ate. I figured he just didn't want me to have fun. I kept him at an arm's length when it came to my personal life, and I never, NEVER, came to him when I was having boy troubles. He was just not THAT kind of a father.

Besides, we were so much alike. Papa and I both have the tendency to shut up and remain quiet when we get angry or frustrated. We both have trouble expressing our emotions, so we basically don't have a lot to talk about when it comes to personal matters.

Now that I am a little older, I am little by little beginning to see just what it was about Papa that made Mama fall so deeply in love with him.

One call is all it takes to have Papa come running to pick me up wherever I am. In all of my 23 years, I cannot remember even a single time when Papa gave me some lame excuse for why he couldn't. Wherever I am (and mind you, I've had Papa pick me up from pretty far places), whatever I am doing, I am always secure that Papa will be there to come for me in the event that I couldn't make it home by myself.

When I insist that I go home alone, I know I can expect Papa to still be waiting to open the door for me. Sure, he may be grouchy and mad when I stay out a little later than the agreed upon time, but he has never been one to hold grudges. And I never have the fear of being locked out. He always lets me in.

Even when he was working, I knew I could always count on my dad to provide whatever I needed. As a kid, I thought he was a magician. Anything I asked for would be ready and waiting for me the next morning. Special paper for an art project? You got it. Food for my field trip? All packed and ready to go. Unusual pet for the pet show at school? A turtle was waiting for me the next day. I didn't know how he pulled it off, but I didn't care. He could do just about anything. Balancing work and family life was never an issue for my parents.

And he never once complained.

As I got older, I knew there were times when I failed to show my dad just how much I appreciated him. I knew I hurt him more than once, but he never rubbed that in my face, even though he easily could. He just continued to give and give and give.

I watch him and I see sincerity and genuineness that extend even to people outside of our family.

Papa, in more ways than one, is the ideal boyfriend. He is never late for anything, shows up for all the important and even the not-so-important events of our lives, and always keeps his word. When Papa says he'll do something, you can bet your life on it that he'll get it done. He has braved all kinds of storms and what-have-yous just to be there for us. He never fails to get us whatever we ask for (as long as it is in his financial and physical capacity to do so), and sometimes even the things we don't ask for. He makes us laugh even in awkward moments, and surprises us with witty and light-hearted remarks even in the most trying of times. And every once in a while, he surprises us with some touching gesture for no reason at all.

Papa always puts us first. He gives his all just to ensure our happiness and comfort, and NEVER asks for anything in return. His utter selflessness makes him a hero in my eyes. Without saying a word, Papa has shown me what kind of a Father we have in heaven just by being like Him everyday.

I can just imagine him at 21, courting Mama. Being there for her at all costs. Investing much time and effort just to be with her (Papa is from Pampanga and Mama is from Pagsanjan...think about that). Making her family love him just as much (but maybe not in the same way) by considering them in his decisions, too. Maybe he didn't always know the right words to say, but I know he loved her in the best way he knew how - by giving of himself.

I know why Mama fell in love with him. And I'm glad she did. Because they went on to have me and my sister.

And with them as my parents, I just couldn't ask for anything more.

I'm proud of you Pa. I love you.

.reawakening.

Earlier this afternoon, a blockmate and friend showed me an article from the Manila BUlletin that his dad wrote. It was noteworthy because surprise, surprise... it was about him.

Entitled "Our Son, The Graduate", the article virtually published the reflection paper Miguel wrote on his Palawan elective prior to clerkship year. It details much of his thoughts on public health, the misgivings of our current system, and what we, as young physicians in training, can do for the improvement of the entire nation's health care delivery system.

Funny thing. I was in that elective, too.

I told Miguel that the article almost reduced me to tears, and I was not exaggerating when I said that. I almost cried, not because the article was so gut-wrenchingly touching (although it is great), but because it triggered something in me that I thought I had long forgotten.

You see, way before I had managed to convince myself (at least I thought I had) that I wanted to become just another one of your typical white-coated doctors roaming the hospital halls, I actually wanted to become a community physician. Way back when I still had my ideals, my principles, and my convictions, I wanted to become something more than just your average clinician welcoming patients in well-lit, airconditioned rooms, getting paid big bucks for every word I say and every glitch I solve.

There was a time in my medical education when I wanted to change the world.

I really do not know what happened. I remember my third year in med proper when I was going crazy over the fact that I wanted to get involved in something public health-related and I absolutely had no idea how to begin. There were times when I purposely went to the COME office just to talk to Dr. Portia Marcelo and ask her about possible researches and projects I can do (all of which, sadly, by the way, did not yield any output). I was 100% convinced that hospital work was not for me... I was ready to kiss PGH goodbye as soon as I got my license.

Somewhere along the way, I got scared. Spending days and days in a less-than-ideal government hospital, where the most desperate of all people come expecting to receive the best treatment possible, the disappointment on their faces upon finding out the harsh reality of health care in PGH soon got to me. It didn't take long before I became jaded and discouraged by the sheer vastness of problems to be taken care of. The immensity of it all, compared to how helpless and small a single person like me seems to be, overwhelmed me. I lost faith in the power of passion. It just was not enough.

So I took the easy way out. I hardened myself to every voice crying out for help, and started to look out for myself. I cannot, CAN NOT, lay my life down for them at the risk of that amounting to nothing. I had to protect myself and the life I thought I wanted. It's a dog-eat-dog world, and the prize does not always go to the person who has the most noble intentions... the prize, more often than not, goes to the most cunning and deceitful minds. It's flawed, true, but it works. And I wanted a chance at that prize. At least, I thought I did. The easiest thing to do would be to cling to what seems to be "life-giving" and hold on tight, no matter how much it suffocates me. The problems of my country are not mine to solve. I may never see the changes in my lifetime anyway, so why bother? I wanted to see results, and I wanted them immediately. I decided to leave these things to my colleagues who know more about it and who appear to be more into it than I ever was, and turned my back completely on what I thought I could stand on.

But, no matter how much we try to bury it in our soul, our hearts' cry will always shout out.

The road less travelled is still an option, after all.

Most likely, I will still go into residency. Most likely, in a few years, I will probably even take up a subspecialty. Most likely, I will hold clinics in many private hospitals and make a very comfortable living off that. Most likely, I will have a stable job and all the comforts of life that that entails. Most likely, I will proudly wear my white coat and become your friendly neighborhood clinician.

Most likely.

But sometimes, the least likely happens.


************************************************************************

Dear, I know you have so many plans for the future, and I know sometimes you think I don't approve. But I do. I will support you in whatever you decide to do. I will always be here for you. We may have our differences and our paths may not always appear to cross, but just know that wherever your passion in life may take you, you'll always have me to come home to.

Besides, no matter what you say, I still take credit for why you fell in love with community medicine in the first place (think back to third year deawie...mwahahahaha!). You will never convince me otherwise. So when you begin to take big steps for the Philippines, the Philippines will have to thank me. And when the world honors you, then it honors me, too. Mwahahaha!

Kidding dear.

I love you Homi ko.

.seven years.

With just 5 days to go before internship is over, indulge me as I go all sentimental and reminisce on the past seven years of my life.. the seven years I spent in med school.

Unlike most of my classmates, being in med school has never been that big a deal to me. It has never been the end-all, be-all of my existence. It was more like a stopover of sorts before I continue on toward my real destination in life. What THAT might be, your guess is as good as mine.

I still vividly remember my first few days in UP Manila as an Intarmed freshman. First year was, of course, scary and intimidating. I remember feeling insecure next to my "bigtime" classmates, all of whom graduated with honors from well-known science high schools and exclusive private schools. Intarmed was most definitely a humbling experience. Not as science-oriented as I would have liked, I failed my first few major exams, found myself "lost" during lectures, and basically just messed up lab activities. Like a splash of cold water right in my face, I realized I wasn't as brilliant as I thought. The Little Miss Stellar that I was in high school, apparently, no longer existed.

I figured I wouldn't survive, so I decided to take the easy way out. I made arrangements to shift back to my first love, which was Broadcast Communication. Everything was all set, but amazingly enough, that was not to be my fate. Somehow, a power much stronger than my frustrations kept me from bailing out - the power of true friendship. I was not alone. I made great friends who effortlessly managed make to make me smile and laugh every single day. And at that moment, that was enough to keep me going.

Second year was a bit simpler, if not easier. Getting the hang of my lessons, failed exams were getting to be fewer and farther in between (although they were still there). Time only served to strengthen the friendships that were established in the first year. I missed out on a lot of "fun" activities since I used to travelled back home every day, but that did not hinder me from becoming closer to the people I had learned to love. I was quite selective when it came to friends, and I picked the most beautiful gems of them all to share my life with. Stories were told, secrets were shared, moments were spent together, lessons were learned. Every day was another step taken in the journey that was not my own.

We soon entered the realm of medicine proper, a bit too young perhaps, but prepared nonetheless. We were thrown into a sea of 160 faces, 120 of which were older, wiser, and with much more academic experience than the 40 of us. Yet we just dove in and managed to merge with them beautifully. Third and fourth year crammed our minds with all the wonders of the human body, both physiologic and pathologic. Innumerable cups of coffee helped us to stay awake enough to make attempts at memorizing impossible amounts of information. Everyone tried to find his or her own way
of coping - this was the year when every student was either trying to get into a fraternity, sorority, or whatever organization, or delving into other non-medical activities. We all had to survive - and insanity was not an option.

We all did.

Fifth year was probably the lightest year of all. With our hospital exposure limited to the outpatient department, time management was no longer a problem. We learned much from our patients, but at the same time, we found ourselves with so much time on our hands. Suddenly, I could do whatever I wanted again. Around this time, I decided to throw myself fully into ministerial activities with our local church. I got involved, learned more of the Word, and allowed myself to be discipled by mature Christian leaders. It was amazing when I realized that I could be a medical student and a minister at the same time. I was learning about diseases, and at the same time growing in faith in my Divine Healer. I was maturing as a physician while developing my character as a Christian.

I now know why.

Sixth year, or Clinical Clerkship, came as quite a shock. From the benign ICC year we had, we were then confronted with more-than-24-hour duties filled with mind-boggling emergencies and patients dying almost everytime. We delivered babies, intubated unconscious patients, assisted with major operations, and performed advanced life support. We were doctors, but not quite yet. We still had to monitor entire wards, complete loads of paperwork, insert IV lines, catheters, and NGTs... and we had to balance all those things with academics. We had to learn. With everything we had to do, it was easy to lose our temper, yell at patients and their watchers, and ignore calls for help. We made shortcuts to make life easier for us. We had our first few glimpses of dehumanization, and we clutched on to it like a lifesaver to keep us sane.

I was no different from everyone else. I had my fair share of "poopy" moments that I would rather not remember. But somehow, I know it was the grace of God working in me that set me apart from all the rest. I was highly favored. I was blessed. I knew whatever happened, God was pleased with me. And that was what kept me going.

Internship, our seventh and last year, came soon enough. It was a lot like a repetition of clerkship, only this time, we had more responsibilities. We were privileged enough to have been allowed to wear the badge of "Dr." on our nameplates, but that came with much accountability. We were the first in line to assess and evaluate new patients, and somehow, our opinions seem to matter more now than they used to. We worked tirelessly with our residents, and at times even consultants, and we learned what it was like to be part of the medical team handling the patients. We also learned to work together. Med school is tough enough as it is, and to get through it alone is out of the question. With our tired and overworked minds and bodies yearning even for a slight reprieve from it all, heated arguments arose from division of labor, duty schedules, and such like, with resolutions of varying creativity coming up. Family time became even more precious as some holidays were still to be spent within the hospital walls. Internship asked a lot from us, and we gave in to much of its demands, sacrificing time for self and loved ones along the way, but I know we all got better for it.

And now, here we are. Just a few days away from the end of it all.

I will always remember UP College of Medicine for all that it has taught me. I will remember all the concepts I have learned (yeah, right!), the skills I have obtained from doing numerous procedures, and the courage I have developed in facing patients of different levels of toxicity.

But the UP College of Medicine will never be my home.

My home will always be in the hearts of the people who have, along the way, touched my life in such astounding ways, molding me to become the person I am now. In the past seven years, I have found friendships that stood the test of time, pressure, and diasagreements. I encountered colleagues and mentors who inspired me to dream big and expand my vision to go beyond the usual and the expected. I met patients who showed me that sickness will never be a hindrance to living a full and happy life. Realistically though, I also saw people who allowed depression and sadness to take over their whole beings, and I would hate to become like them. Most importantly, I learned to appreciate the unconditional love of my family that gives and gives, a love that I was only too eager to reciprocate. This is also the love that has extended beyond my immediate family to include the one I look forward to a beautiful tomorrow with. =.)

I used to think that for the past seven years, I have been working hard to make myself better. I used to believe that I had to work hard to ensure a good future for myself and for my family. I now know that I got it wrong. It has never been about me. I was never the center of it all. The truth is, it is God who has been working on me for the past seven years to bring me right to where I am now. He orchestrated everything so that I would meet the right people, learn the right things, and acquire all that is necessary to prepare me for the bigger tasks ahead. Med school was merely a stepping stone towards the real work that is up ahead. And with God on my side, guiding me all the way, success is definitely inevitable.

The assignment is quite daunting, but I would be nothing if not up to it. I am fully equipped. My God has made sure of that. With much faith, courage, and boldness, I am looking forward to taking the next step.

I am happy. I am strong. I am right where I am supposed to be.

It's about time I give something back.

.isang nobela para kay Ate.

Sometimes, I wish we didn't have to grow old. That things could stay just the way they always have been. Growing old, or growing up for that matter, would always entail change.

************************
Growing up, my big sister was my idol. My mom used to dress us in these cute,little outfits that made us look like baby dolls, making sure that we were wearing identical clothes so that we wouldn't get jealous of each other. At the time, Ate towered over me by a good five inches at least, making me look like a squirt next to her. But I never minded. I was dressed like her and that was enough to tell me I looked good.

I grew up in her shadow, always being compared to her, but it never gave birth to any bitterness or jealousy in me. I always believed it was an honor. She was an achiever who excelled at everything she did. Being Eden's little sister was a gift from heaven... everybody immediately recognized me and I basked in the attention. I was proud of my Ate and was thankful that they associated me with someone as great as her.

I followed her around, thinking the world of her. I listened closely to whatever new expression she had picked up and repeated them the next day to my classmates. She had these crazy ideas about what to do during weekends, and I went along with every one of them. We played school, and she was always the teacher. We recorded our own voices and created our own plays and scripts, and she always took the role of the evil sister, or the bad mother, and I was always the pathetic little girl that everyone pushed around. I would always back her up as she sang as the lead vocalist. But I never minded. I would have jumped off a cliff with her if she had told me we could fly.

She was my protector. She stood up to kids who bullied me in school and would fight anyone who would dare hurt me. She would always be there in a flash whenever I needed her, never mind that she had classes of her own to attend to. Somehow, I always felt safer when I knew my Ate was somewhere nearby, within reach, just one call away. My teachers knew well enough to call her when I would get into some sort of trouble, or when I would get so upset and end up in a crying fit (which was often, by the way.. world's biggest crybaby here!).

It was Ate who fostered my love for reading. She started reading Sweet Valley Kids and Twins in elementary, and eventually, I followed suit. She wanted to make sure we owned a copy of every single book in the series... and soon, we pretty much did. Of course, we both outgrew Jessica and Elizabeth over time and moved on to other works of literature, but the bookworm that she had managed to bring out in me stayed, and up to now, nothing still beats curling up with a good book during my lazy days. It is to this love of reading that I attribute the fact that I can use English pretty well and have fun playing with words... I thank Ate for instilling that in me.

Soon, we grew tired of playing games and became what most parents dread... teenagers. But we never really gave our parents that much to worry about. We were good kids, pretty much. Ate was my best confidante. Unlike her, opening up about my life didn't come naturally. I envied the way she talked to our mom about anything (even boys!), but I just couldn't seem to do it as easily as she did. I pretty much kept personal things to myself. I would be falling hopelessy infatuated with someone or maybe even be heartbroken, and no one would be the wiser. I kept up a pretty good charade. However, her constant prodding and friendly questioning about my life soon broke through my wall and helped me to open up my world to her. I let her in, and she gladly entered. She offered wonderful words of wisdom, and would always laugh, cry, be angry, jealous or whatever I would be feeling, with me as she would see fit.

Of course, who can forget the times when I would wake up in the middle of the night and hear quiet sobs coming from beside me? Back when we shared a room, I witnessed much of Ate's heartbreaks and frustrations as I overheard (without meaning to) many phone conversations that ended in tears. Finding myself at loss for words, I would offer her nothing more than my arms for a hug, and she would gladly fall into my embrace, sobbing on my shoulders as I tried to comfort her as much as I could. I remember wanting to lash out at that person who had dared hurt my sister that much. Seeing her in tears usually broke me down a lot of times too, and soon, we'd both be crying. Then we'd laugh at how silly we both were, and then eventually fall back to sleep. I may be younger, but never have I felt more protective of anybody else than I have during these times of my sister.

As we both grew older, our paths somehow drifted apart. She began finding work in far and different places, and I started taking my med school more seriously. Our moments together became less and less. We each lived our own lives. And yet, through all these, I never doubted for a minute that my Ate's just around. I always want her to be among the first to share my joy, and I am honored when she does the same for me.

There is a bond between sisters that nothing can break. Ate and I have known each other our whole lives. We understand each other in ways that no one else can. We swap stories, share inside jokes with our equally twisted sense of humor (we make each other laugh... and no one else gets it), fight then make up, trade clothes and shoes,and get into each other's hair (and nerves!). We tell each other theories we make up in our minds about life in general, and attempt to psychoanalyze people and their actions. We share so many interests in common, and yet we are different enough so that our lives never get boring.

We dream dreams together, and having her there to agree with me and have faith with me increases my certainty that they will all come to pass.

After all these being said, I know without a shadow of a doubt that all these memories, no matter how beautiful and how fondly we look back on them, cannot even begin to compare to the more glorious future that lies ahead.

No matter what happens, and no matter how fast the winds of time bring their gusts of change to our lives, I know my Ate and I will never fail to be what we have always been from the very beginning... SISTERS.

Nothing in the world can beat that.

And right now, I could not be happier. :)

*********************************************

Here's to you Ate. I love you.

.first 2009 post.

A good friend called attention to the fact that I haven't posted an entry for the new year yet. So here I am, half-asleep with eyes half-closed, attempting to come up with something halfway sensible. As yet, I have no idea what I'm going to write so I'm just going to ramble on and on. ;)

The beginning of the year most definitely made a mark on at least 150++ people on the planet. For five years (or seven for several of us), we have been known as UPCM Class 2009. Now it's finally here. The last few months. The homestretch. The end.

I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to actually have the end in sight. For so long it has been a struggle, a battle in the mind, on my part. To finally be graduating from the institution I've called home for seven years brings me, for lack of a better way to describe it, great relief. I cannot thank God enough. It's all by His grace that I am able to reach this point. However, with the clock ticking so loudly on my days in the College, the reality of facing the real world soon enough is also beginning to dawn on me.

I have no idea what I want to do afterwards.

Well, maybe I do. In the vaguest sense. But I still can't give a concrete answer when people ask me about it. For some reason, I just can't bring myself to be all enthusiastic about it for now. Not now when I am still trying to discover within myself what I want to do. Because somehow, I have this feeling that whatever decision I make in the next few months will be on the most major life choices I will ever have to make. Whatever I choose to do will change my life forever. And that's something I do not want to rush into.

Sometimes, I want to be just like everyone else. I want to start planning, to start looking into opportunities, and to start asking around about it. I want to be all set. But I am not. Not yet, anyway.

Something great lies ahead. I just know it.

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Sorry. I didn't want to dedicate an entire entry to med school, so I ended it quite abruptly. That was not how I wanted to start the year. After all, I've always looked as med school as merely something to go through. A training ground of sorts to prepare me in particular ways for the role that I am supposed to play in the Grander Scheme of things. I have never allowed it to define me, nor have I let it seep through my entire being so that it becomes the only thing that keeps me going.

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This Year 2009, I will...

...ENJOY MY LIFE! An unhappy life is not a life worth living. I choose to be happy no matter what.

...Take bolder, surer, and more confident steps toward the future.

...Not allow people or circumstances to dictate who I am and what I can or cannot do.

...Clear my mind of things that keep me up all night.

...Pick my dreams up from where I left them, dust them off, and begin to bring them to life once again.

...Put first things first.

...Make choices that matter.

...Strengthen my self-esteem.

...No longer blame myself for every single thing that seem to go wrong.

...Re-establish and revitalize relationships and create new ones.

...Appreciate people and focus on their strengths, rather than on their misgivings.

...Be generous with GRACE, not just with others, but even with myself.

...Put others first.

...LOVE MORE.

...UNDERSTAND MORE.

...GIVE, GIVE and GIVE.

...Learn what it truly means to submit.

...Not be easily offended.

...Not compare myself with others.

...Appreciate who I am and who I was made to be.

...Allow me to be me.

...LOVE PEOPLE TO JESUS.

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Let's just hope everything goes according to plan.

Happy New Year to us all!

I love you Dear.

.celebration.

It's the day after Christmas and finally, I'm home! I spent Christmas Day on duty in Ward 16 of PGH. If not for the constant greetings of "Merry Christmas!" from people I ran into, yesterday felt much like any other ordinary day. I spent Christmas monitoring hypertensive postpartum patients, listening for almost nonexistent fetal heart sounds from about 20-week pregnant women, and extracting body fluids from people I barely know. I almost forgot it was Christmas. The rest of my family trooped to Pampanga as was our yearly tradition, and I wasn't there with them. That bummed me out a little.

We did get to have our own little celebration though. All of us interns and the residents of Service B brought food and drinks to share for dinner. So we all got together at around 9pm, stuffed our faces with the feast we managed to put together (and a feast it definitely was!), and laughed at each other as people took turns at the Magic Sing. It somehow made our duty feel a bit more festive.

However, given the choice, it still wouldn't have been the way I wanted to celebrate Christmas. Of course, who would want to spend it in a hospital anyway? But Christmas, to me, will never be about the food and the festivities and the parties that instantly appear at every corner once the season starts to make its presence felt.

Christmas, first and foremost, will always be about Jesus. It's a time of remembering, not only that He was born, but that He came to be our Saviour, our Redeemer. We celebrate not just His birth, but that He died and rose again to give us life. CHRISTmas will never be Christmas without CHRIST, after all. Christmas is the day of remembering the manifestation of the greatest LOVE of all... that God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, Jesus, that whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have everlasting life. That's why it should be Christmas everyday.

However, society established it as a special day that comes once every year... and given the rarity with which it occurs, it's a day that I would much rather spend with people I love. It's supposed to be a day when everyone is off work or school, and an opportunity to be together after a year of minding our own businesses.

I love little celebrations. I like making people's small victories feel like it's the best thing that could happen to them. You could have won an oustanding award, or just simply learned something new, I still want you to feel like you deserve a grand celebration for what happened. But it doesn't have to be grand at all. For me, being together in moments of joy is the best way to celebrate. When you get right down to it, I am not really a party person. I would rather have intimate moments - like getting together for coffee with few of my closest friends, a sweet date just walking along the beach (or, technically... Manila Bay.. hehe. Hello Dear!), or a quiet dinner with family - than go to a party where the music is blasting out of gigantic speakers and the alcohol is making people act weird (and stupid).

That was how I wanted to spend Christmas. I wanted a celebration where I could simply be with people I love.

Because Christmas is always about LOVE. It was inspired by LOVE and so let's celebrate it the way it was meant to be.

Let's celebrate it with much LOVE.

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I will be welcoming Year 2009 in the Labor Room and Delivery Room of PGH. Yup, I'm on duty again on the 31st of December. Great.

Consolation. I will be seeing the very first PGH baby of 2009. Wow.

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Miss you much Dear. Sana SQTT na tayo soon. ;)

.post duty post. (warning: unedited)

I am now officially about to begin my fourth week in OB-GYN. So far, I have been enjoying myself, although I am all the more convinced that this is really not the specialty for me. I have nothing against it in general. In fact, I find it fun and exciting at times. Really. I just can't see myself doing nothing but OB-GYN in the future.

I went on duty last night in Ward 15... and may I say benign? :) What with the nurses doing the monitoring for patients on q3, q4 and q shift (please see Lopao's blog for details.. hehe), I was left with only a single patient to monitor every two hours. The rest of the time, I was either staring off blankly into space or attempting to read my Williams. For the most part though, I was asleep. I was kind of concerned that the nurses may already be classifying me as just another slacker intern. But there really was nothing to do, so I just told myself to be thankful for little holidays. It's not everyday you get to sit down for majority of your duty.

When you think about it though, I really would rather have a relatively toxic duty compared to my very benign duty last night. For one, time flies faster when you're actually doing something (the 24 hours passed so slooooowly last night). Plus, I like the feeling of tiredness that comes after a very "active" duty. I like lying down in bed, freshly bathed, the aches in my muscles wearing away as I succumb to a sweet, sweet sleep. But more than that, I like the feeling of accomplishment that comes with a job well done on duty. Not to be arrogant, but I think I am a relatively decent intern, and I'd like to think that I do my responsibilities well enough. I may never be an outstanding intern for anything, but I know that with my performance, I'd get a few smiles from my superiors, colleagues, and patients alike, and that is enough for me.

****************************************

For quite a while now, I have been seriously questioning myself and my abilities. If I may be so bold (and negative at that), I feel like I have regressed to a certain level. There was a time in my life when I couldn't care less about what other people thought of me. That was a time when I had no desire whatsoever for recognition of all the good things I do. I just do them because the love in my heart wouldn't make me do otherwise. When I didn't bother with whatever other people did with their lives that made them happy because I was secure in the knowledge that I was also happy with whatever I was doing.

Blame it on the fact that I haven't been feeding my spirit lately with healthy Word-food. Lately, I find myself comparing myself with other people and ending up on the losing end. I don't remember anymore how it started... but it now feels like I've dug a hole and I keep burying myself deeper and deeper into it. I see other people's lives and envy them for the direction they seem to be going to. I feel jealous of their passions and how they manage to turn these passions into results even with all the other things they do.

I mean, come on. Look at me. What can I do? I am a medical student, but not really a remarkable one at that. I can barely hold my grasp on concepts together. I do my job fairly well enough, but who doesn't? A greater percentage of interns in PGH are responsible individuals. Slackers and scummers are just a handful (I think). I guess I can write, but a lot of other people can do that too, and even better. What makes me think I am special? I can carry a tune, but not well enough to sing in public and merit a thunderous applause from the listeners. I am not a terrible dancer, but I cannot do it well enough to do it competitively or professionally. I know how to play the guitar, but not creatively enough to concoct my own tunes from nothing.

I guess you can say I have been feeling quite... what's the word? Bland... and unspecial. Whatever I do, someone else does better. People I barely know regard me based on my relationships with people who they know better. They see me and immediately think of somebody else. My wisecracks? Probably influenced by my close friends at the moment. My plans for the future? Formulated because of what somebody else wants. My decisions? Based on other people's opinions.

I used to think of myself as a good person who can make others happy, but apparently, other people can do even that better that I can.

I just want to know who I am, show that to the world and be appreciated for that.

Things like this shouldn't be a struggle, right? Because knowing who you are and being that person should be effortless and natural. Because that's how you really were created to be. That's how you were made and designed. So why am I feeling like this? Listen to me. This is quite depressing.

Maybe it's because I have removed my eyes from the very Person that matters and started to turn my vision on the circumstances and people that surround me. I started to measure my worth based on what the world thinks is important.

But I am now being reminded of this very important thing. That my worth can only be determined by the price that God paid to redeem me. It is the greatest and most expensive price of all: the blood of His only Son, Jesus Christ. Who can compare to that? How can the King of kings and Lord of lords, Ruler of all, so majestic, pay so great a cost for someone like me?? It's astonishing, mind-boggling to say the least. It's too good to be true, and yet I just can't help but choose to believe it and receive with every inch of my being. It is consistent with who He is, and it defines exactly who I am.

I am His.

I have forgotten what it is like to be passionately, irrevocably in love with my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And I have failed to focus on the only thing that matters: that my Lord, my God, and my Savior is also very passionately and irrevocably in love with me. ME. The real me. My Jesus knows me inside out and still He loves me. Nothing I do will ever make him love me less. I cannot do anything to make Him disapprove of me and want to disqualify me. I am permanently etched in His mind and heart. Imagine that! He fashioned me so lovingly with His hands, equipping me with everything that I might need to thrive and conquer in this life, and filling me with all the potentials for happiness and success.

I have forgotten that His standards and the world's standards are very, very different... miles apart.

I have nothing to prove to the world because I do not owe the world anything. I do not have to compete with anyone for anybody's approval. I do not have to perform to get people to like me and appreciate me because in my Father's eyes I am already perfect. Why? Because of what Jesus did. He took my place. His grace is enough to make me sit next to the Father in the heavenly places. And nothing, nothing the world can offer, can ever beat that.

Who cares what they can do? Who cares what I can't do? I am called with a purpose, a purpose that is solely mine. There is no one else in this world who can fulfill whatever God has called me to because that is my place. That is my calling. That place is mine. Whatever happens, the gifts and the callings of God are without repentance. They can do whatever they want with their lives, but as for me (and my house!), we're going to serve the Lord. Everything I see in the world right now, they are all temporal. Dig deeply enough and you will find that every worldly attempt at success, fame and recognition is rooted at only one thing: selfishness. Self-preservation. Who wants to join a dirty rat race like that? I run my own course, and I run with my personal Trainor and Guide. They can have their fame and fortune. I have my Jesus, and with Him, I have everything. Literally, figuratively... spiritually, materially. Everything.

I will not be moved by what I see and what I feel.

I am His beloved. And that defines entirely who I am.

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Hope this entry clears up some things Dear. Ehehe.

MOA dear. Be benign sa duty mo! Mwah! I love you.

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.samutsari.

Maybe some people are really meant to cross your life only once. You spend a short time with them, and then that's it. And all that's left with you are the memories of all the good times you've shared with them. Purely good. And you keep them alive in your heart, while at the back of your mind, there is always that painful possibility of never seeing them again.

That's Tita Mayet for us. And the entire Kuhonta family.

I will never forget you. Thank you for accepting us so warmly in your family. We love you... and we will always miss you.

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My Community Medicine rotation was over too soon. Now that I have already had my first day in OB-GYN, my 6 weeks in San Juan, Batangas now feels so much like a dream.

Cliche as it may seem, I learned so much in the past weeks. But it's not your typical, community-related learnings.

1. Every person has a story to tell. All he needs is someone who will listen.
2. Things become special when people believe they are special.
3. Nothing cheers up a home better than genuine laughter.
4. Kids will always be kids. The best we can do is let them be.
5. Let ourselves be kids too.
6. You don't have to have the answer to everything.
7. You just may have the answer to something.
8. Leaders come in different sizes, shapes and styles. Good perception sees the leader even in the quietest person.
9. One man's problem is everyone else's project.
10. A little love goes a long way.

These are just off the top of my head. My head (and my heart for that matter) is filled with so many memories of San Juan that I am too overwhelmed to put everything into words at present.

I am a simple person with simple pleasures. I love the simple life. I can live like this forever.

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Today was my first day in OB-GYN. Once again, the familiar faces and places in the Department was thrown in my face with abrupt intensity. There, again hanging thick in the air, is the recurrent feeling of tension and nervousness that comes with every duty, every conference, and such like.

But I can do this. All by the grace of God. No need to fear.

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There is something weird in the air. I can't put a finger to it... But I think I need time to sort a few things out within myself. I have been feeling things I know I shouldn't feel and don't want to feel.. and I need to relearn how to control my emotions.

Thank You Lord for the wisdom.

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I wanted this to be a good entry... but it's not even halfway that. Oh well, maybe next time.

Love you Dear. Miss you much. MOA. Sorry I make it so hard for you sometimes. :)