Breather

I just have to write this one, primarily to ease the boredom of my bestfriend, who pressured me last night (in pure Willy-fashion) to add something to my blog, which had been on hold for the longest time. Wala na raw siyang mabasa (*whimper, whimper*) etc. So here goes.

Mid-year through my first year of residency, I found myself tired and spent. In exaggeration, I told Mar that I was very near my limit…that the vomitus just might come out of my nose. She caught me walking home to Orosa one hectic day on the verge of tears, and sure enough, the tears came inevitably. She had to sit me on our apartment doorstep (I could have embarrassed myself crying and lamenting in a really shrilly voice along the street), as I told her I wanted to stomp my feet, ride a bus (ANY bus) and be very, very far away from

Manila

. Mar, in her wisdom, brought me to Rob and fed me (the ultimate comfort activity) and sent me on my way with another friend, Ronchie, who drove me away from PGH. We were supposed to go Tagaytay, but ended up in Willyboy’s house in Sta.Rosa (equally comforting I must say), where Willy and I cried in unison (and with feelings, mind you), “Pagooood na pagooood na’ko!” Two nights after, my good friend Paeng finally did bring me up to Tagaytay, and I learned (the hard way) to NEVER, NEVER eat bulalo (the actual marrow I mean) when the soup is even a tiny bit cooler. The roof of your mouth is bound to suffer. (Wala talagang ka-poise poise, I had to excuse myself and manually swipe the lard off my palate!).

Things have been better since. It was a good thing that I shifted out of our charity ward rotation just when I did. I didn’t want to reach a point when I would have to force myself to go to work…Or reach a point when I didn’t like myself anymore…I needed a break from all the mental/ emotional/ financial/ social burdens being an RIC (resident-in-charge) in the ward entailed.

I was telling myself that exactly a year ago, I was yet to hurdle the Board Exams. I have been a doctor for a year now. I realized that I have to remind myself regularly that this is what I wanted, that this is what I was called to do. That when the going gets tough and I lose myself in the frenzy of rounding 13-14 patients everyday, preparing for consultant rounds, pleasing my colleagues, studying for exams, looking for ways to get money for my patients’ antibiotics, dealing with disappearing bantays or demanding patients, and meeting my work’s daily demands, I have to go back to why I chose this vocation a long time ago. I had such good intentions and idealism. That this is my calling and my small contribution to Life. This is what I want.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 12th, 2007 at 2:09 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.