Before Going to War

Here i go again with my weird analogies. lol. I'm not actually going to any real war.



Yesterday, we had our orientation for the pre-residency program at the PGH depatment of surgery. From 51 original applicants, there were only 23 of us left. 8 more people would be cut off for there were only 15 slots available for residency. I don't know if I'll feel sad or relieved if I won't make the final cut. hehe. I have really mixed feelings about this. Dread. Anticipation. Fear. Excitement. Apprehension.

Our schedule seemd to be lifted form hell. Everyday, we have to report by 4 AM. If ever we can go home (which would be rarely), we can go home by 9PM to 10 PM. Now imagine how we have to report back by 4 AM. I'm assigned to the trauma section for the next 2 weeks, and since we'll be on call everytime, I doubt if I would be able to go home for 2 weeks. I doubt if i'll even get much sleep. An hour a day seems optimistic. I probably won't have time to take a bath either. lol. It was especially hot at the ER yesterday--- that's where I'll be most of the time. I could melt away and die. hehe. I just hope my seniors won't expect too much. Tomorrow, I would probably feel lost.

Since the oathtaking would take up my whole day today (because I'll sleep immediately afterwards), technically, yesterday was my last free day, the day before going to war. I finally cleaned up my room... I'd hate to leave it in such a mess. I finally kept those review books that were still scattered all around. Finally picked up my white blazer--- which had an odd fit... or maybe I'm just not used to wearing one. :) Checked my mail, emailed a few friends. Paid my bills. Took a nice long bath (hehe). Got a haircut, back to short hair again. And finally, I went to the gym for one final time (at least for a month).

On the way home, I decided to take the jeepney, which always puts me in a pensive mood. Bad idea. The traffic was moving so slowly, and it was hot inside--- an environment not condusive for deep thinking. Then as if the heat wasn't enough, out of the blue, a quarrel was brewing right before my eyes. I'm not sure if there were pertinent events that happened before I rode the jeepney, but from what I observed, the 2 snooty passengers seated across from me started it. The driver merely asked them where they rode the jeepney, and where they will be dropped off. The old lady gave her answer, but with a certain intonation and an added remark, which roughly translated to "any complaints?" The driver seemed pissed off, which I thought was understandable. He said he asked them nicely, he didn't deserve such an answer. A previous passenger didn't pay him enough fare, so he's asking each passenger those questions. I didn't mind though, i thought it was standard procedure. But the old lady remarked that they wouldn't shortchange him because they had a lot of money. wow! that's one snooty old lady. The driver answered back, then the old lady's daughter (or maybe grandchild) kept saying "shut up shut up". The old lady began talking in english also. Geez, what snobbery. When conversing with a local who obviously only knows the local dialect, answering in english is the sure fire way to show that you're better than him. Typical snobbery. Voices were getting louder, almost shouting. The lady then threatened to kill the driver if he won't shut up. She was even making certain actions, taunting the driver to try and hurt her, then she would kill him. Er--- O-kay. I wanted to tell her to shut up. If they fought, there was no way she and her daughter would survive. Naturally, the driver got pissed and almost reached for the woman, but his wife, who was seated beside him, stopped him. She then pleaded with the snooty passengers to stop it, thy were the ones who started the whole thing in the first place. They still continued taunting. The driver was getting something from his pocket, which looked like a pocket knife, but his wife stopped him. This was war alright, which could turn bloody. I thought I would be exposed to trauma 2 days early! After a few minutes everyone calmed down. But when the 2 snooty passengers were about to get off, the driver suddenly pressed his foot on the acceleration, so the two of them fell. This pissed them off. The old lady shouted curses, that the driver would die tonight. Her daughter lunged at the driver pulling his hair, and slapped his wife hard on the cheeks, which was uncalled for. The wife was trying to be mediator between them, for Christ's sake! I thought it was over since the jeepney moved forward--- I thought the driver would actually go down and stab the 2 women. We were again caught in a traffic jam a few meters forward, then from the distance, I saw three policemen approaching, accompanied by the 2 pissed off former passengers. You can hear them shouting from miles away. Such ingrating high pitched voices. The policemen apprehended the driver, and wanted him to go to the nearby jail with them, so he can explain his side of the story there. I believe the driver shouldn't have pressed his foot on the acceleration just when the 2 ladies were getting off--- those ladies could have been seriously injured after all, but the way the policemen talked to the driver, it was as if he was the only guilty party. If I was the driver, after spending all day in a hot jeepney, earning so little, not even enough to live decently... and then 2 snooty passeners showed up, flamboyantly showing that they're way above me--- I would've done something worse to those bitchy ladies. And my co-passengers seemed to agree with me. From what we saw, The two ladies started it, and they continually aggravated the situation. WHat was done to them was something they did deserve. One of my co-passengers tried explaining this to the police, but apparently they were not interested. We were in the old lady's neighborhood after all, their territory. I would safely assume that they will be found innocent, they will be INNOCENT victims ... and the jeepney driver will be found guilty as charged.

I didn't get a refund--- although I was still far from home, I chose to walk instead. Added exercise would be good for me. Besides, they need the spare change I gave them more than I do. What little money I gave could mean so much.

That seems to be the order in this world. When there is peace, naturally there will be war. When there is prosperity, there will definitely be poverty. When there is love, naturally there will be hate.

Many times I have wondered... is this part of God's plan? For every good, there is something bad, for every positive, there is a corresponding negative? Why?

Why can't we all just get along?

The Rumour Mill

... it keeps on grinding and grinding, churning and churning.



Funny how almost every single person on this planet finds rumors interesting. Rumors are like sweet little concotions, inherently magnetic, impossible to resist. It's also funny how a person who always tries to keep a low profile, who minds his own business, can still fall victim to stupid rumors. Yeah, I'm talking about myself here.

I have been the subject of nasty rumors for years now, and often those rumors are just recyled, rearing their ugly heads every now and then. What rumors, you say? They say that I'm a drug addict, that I'm taking steroids, that I'm some sort of maniac, that i'm a rumor monger myself, that I'm some gay's boyfriend, that I do something nasty with gays in exchange for something, and oh yeah, let's not forget my most favorite rumor of all, that I'm gay myself.

Let's pretend that we're in court and I'm on trial on the stand--- I shall now defend myself from all those stupid allegations. That drug addict thing started when I was persistently thin, and surfaced again when I lost a lot of weight. Okay, I have tried a few prohibited types of drugs occasionally, different kinds, sporadically. But it's not like I got addicted to any of them. I took them socially... or out of curiosity. I was persistently thin back in grade school and high school because I didn't eat much when I'm in school. I used my allowance to buy videogames and videogame magazines instead. And I lost a lot of weight during clerkship and internship because of the work load! Plus I didn't get to eat much because there are times when I didn't get to eat for a day! There was no time to eat at all! Funny how fellow clerks and interns spread such rumors, it's not like they don't know how much work we are given.

When i started gaining weight in college and med school, people started assuming that I have been taking steriod. WTF?! You really can't please everyone! Whether you've lost or gained weight, those losers will talk about you! i gained weight because I started eating in school, and I ate more when I got home. Plus, I started going to the gym, more on body building exercises than cardiovascular exercises. So there.

There are some people who say I'm a sex maniac, that I'm a pervert, because I have such a filthy mouth,because I know a lot about sex, because I'm addicted to porn... First of all, just because I have a porn collection, that doesn't make me addicted to porn. I mean, is there actually a normal guy out there who doesn't have a porn collection?! I may have more porn than some guys, but that doesn't make me a maniac. I guess i do have a filthy mouth--- I got it from friends who have filty mouths. It's like some contagious disease. And I know a lot about sex because of them too--- my knowledge is a mixture of their knowledge and my knowledge, our collective experiences, so to speak. So what if I know a lot? that doesn't mean I'd go out and rape the first person I see. And it's not like I have a craving for sex. Besides, I can derive pleasure by myself, without anyone's help. That doesn't make me a pervert either. If that's the case, then all men in this planet are perverts.

There are those who say I'm a rumor monger, that it's just karma that I'm often a victim of rumors. Doesn't it follow that if I'm often a victim a rumors, i would not be spreading rumors because I know exactly how it feels to be a victim of rumors? One only needs common sense to realize that! Clearly a lot of stupid people don't even have common sense. Yeah, I know a lot of stuff about people--- because i have a lot of friends who are quite informative, and I can't help it if they keep on divulging information about other people to me. And it's not like i spread those rumors that they tell me. If it's about something that seems to be common knowledge anyway, then I'll tell the rumor if someone asks me about it. And you can ask my close friends--- if they've told me a secret, I would bury that secret deep within me, and I'll carry it to my death. I know a lot of my friend's secrets, and I have never told another soul about them. And those secrets are those deadly ones--- when they come out, those secrets would probably destroy their lives. That's why I really hate it when someone accuses me of being a gossip. I absolutely hate gossips, and i'll definitely hate myself if i turn into one of them.

I have had relationships with gays? I've had isolated sexual experiences with gays? I have close gay friends alright, and I have a very close gay friend. Hey, She's one of my best friends! That doesn't mean I've had relationship with them, nor does that mean I've had sex with them! Can't a straight guy be plain friends with a gay guy? Does it really follow that there's something sexual happening? If a guy is close with a girl, people won't assume that something sexual is involved. How come if a guy is friends with a gay guy, people jump to conclusions?! Maybe it could happen with other straight guy-gay guy friendships, but not with me. but I guess I really can't blame most people... when I see some guy with a gay guy, I initially assume the same thing. I guess it's human nature to jump to such conclusions. Of course it didn't help that some stupid faggot started spreading rumors that I was his boyfriend when we were in college. And some crazy faggot spread the same rumor in med school. Geez, what are the chances of such a thing happening twice in a lifetime?!

Something related to those rumors is the rumor that I'm a gay guy myself. I asked a few close friends about it, and they say it's not like I act gay... It's all the other rumors floating around that makes people assume. And the topic itself is interesting, so it's persistent. After all, "What rumors spread like wildfire?", they asked. For girls, if they're pregnant, and for guys, if they're gay! My friends even find it funny when they imagine me being gay. A gay guy with a very deep voice, with robotic actions, with no finesse at all, who has no fashion sense, who can live without taking a shower, who goes to strip joints, who's such a slob, with such a filthy room. Haha. Haha. Haha. only I don't find it funny. They say it's the rumors that those 2 faggots spread before, that I was their boyfriend--- a lot of gullible people actually believed them. With their very detailed stories of imagined events, who wouldn't? The second one most especially, who invented stories about our numerous sexual encounters, our first kiss, where we go on dates, how I was in bed, how my sexual organ looked like, how we broke up, and how I began stalking him and his new boyfriend afterwards. God, just thinking about it makes me sick! I really wanted to beat him to pulp back then! How can any sane person invent such stories about someone?! Those 2 fags must be lunatics! They should be caged in an asylum! Wishful thinking by crazy loons!

There are also many instances when some insecure guy would tell people that I was gay--- A common defense mechanism by ugly, good for nothing losers, for them to cope up or to focus some attention toward themselves. One of those losers is even a resident now at the department of surgery, so I won't be surprised if the rumors resurface if I decide to work there. Also, Some people who got mad at me seemed to think that it's a natural way to get back at a guy by telling people he's gay. Wow, That's really mature. Also the fact that I was often with my close gay friend back in college fueled the rumors. We watched movies, ate out, and I even took naps at her apartment at times. So what? I can do the same things with my male and female friends, and rumors won't start flowing. And i won't sacrifice our friendship just to save my reputation. My friendship with her is more important than any stranger's perception of me. It's that valuable, real friends are so hard to find. If that's how they think, then to hell with them.

My friends also say that rumors also started during the long gap between my two ex-girlfriends. I was single for almost 4 long years, and that was when people started talking. They say it's impossible for others to think that a good looking guy (sic) who seems to have everything (sic), who has so many admirers, some of whom even give blatant proposals, could actually stay single unless he's gay. What a narrow minded conclusion! I guess it's also human nature to come to such an assumption, but did it ever occur to them that I'm awfully shy when it comes to courting girls? And I didn't really like any of those admirers?! And that I didn't want to jump into another relationship because i was traumatized by the fact that my ex girlfriend was two timing me?! And when I finally found the girl I liked, she still had a boyfriend?! I'm not even counting the months when I was left hanging, waiting for a definite response from her!

I guess I can't stop people from talking... it must be human nature to talk about other people to divert attention from themselves, to distract people from seeing their own faults. Maybe it's even human nature to bring others down, to bring down people who seem better and more interesting. If only I can control people's tongues and stop them from wagging. I've learned to be indifferent, that's the only way to cope. i've learned not to care anymore. To those strangers who keep spreading rumors--- they can shoot themselves in the head for all I care. To hell with those losers. THey are nothing to me. It just hurts when people whom you call your friends, people that you trust, would participate in such rumors. Friends like those, I can live without.

To those friends who defend me from any rumor, you guys are one of God's most precious gifts to me.

To those people who call themselves my friends, yet participate in spreading rumors about me--- A BIG F*CK YOU TO ALL OF YOU. With friends like you, I have no more need for enemies. I've had enough of back stabbers.

And to those millions of people who derive pleasure from spreading rumors--- Go screw yourselves instead of prying on other people's lives. Your lives must be really pathetic to even think the lives of others are more worthy of your attention. If you stopped prying at the lives of others and instead start focusing on your own, you could start fixing your own lives, then maybe you won't be such BIG LOSERS.

I hope karma strikes, so that all of you losers would feel how it is to be victims of such rumors.

That's quite impossible though, wishful thinking on my part.

After all, who the heck would want to talk about STUPID LOSERS like yourselves?

TECHNICAL EMERGENCY !!!!

My laptop has been erratic these past few days. For the first time, the dreaded blue screen appeared last saturday--- and I used to think that blue screen was only a myth. I ignored it at first, thinking it was an isolated event. Then that damn blue screen appeared later that day again. It said "error reading from disk drive", or something to that effect. The audio also became garbled, it was a pain listening to my MP3s. Playing videos made my eyes sore. It was taking forever to load programs and documents, numerous error reports popped up! And the system hanged several times, even if I only had one program open! Christ, after going through more than 2 years of abuse, my notebook is giving up on me! Still, I was indifferent most of the time, becoming just a bit worried when those error messages showed up. Then another blue screen appeared, saying something like system failure imminent... and it advised that I back up all data because they're in danger of becoming lost. BECOMING LOST?! WTF?! That was when I pressed the panic button. Ive heard a lot of stories from friends wherein their computers suddenly crashed without warning, and they lost important documents, including treasured pictures and videos. I never thought such a thing could actually happen to me! Argh! The follies of modern technology! Stupid me! I should have recognized the urgency of the situation before it reached this stage! All signs were pointing to disaster, I should've anticipated this... I should have done those preventive measures days ago! I've put so much trust in my laptop, it never occured to me that the damn thing would give up on me in the future! Now I'm like a madman, burning all important files on CD roms, keeping my fingers crossed that my laptop won't bog down until I have finish backing up all data! As I'm creating this entry using our desktop PC, I'm praying that the stupid CD writer on my laptop won't break down--- it has been acting up for weeks, not being able to finish burning CDs, even though I've been using perfectly good CD-Rs.. I should've gotten a DVD writer years ago, then backing up all those important data would be faster.

Files from med school, all those resources that I'll probably still need in the future... those hard to find programs, some obsolete but I still find useful... all those digital pictures and videos that I keep scanning everytime I'm feeling blue or just plain bored... my collection of short stories and poems that took days to transfer from handwritten words in my old notebook, to the typewritten form... those MP3s now taking up 10 GB of space on my hard drive, that took 20-30 minutes each to download back when I was still on dial up... music videos from my favorite artists that took 3-4 hours to download back when I was still on dial up. hehe. and of course... treasured porn files, 9 gigabytes of hidden pictures and videos that I have been collecting since 1998. LOL.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed... I haven't faced an emergency situation for months, and this has really caught me off guard! My trusted laptop can't give up on me! --- at least not yet!

Hurray for eBay!

For a change, I finally have something happy to post... This is going to be a HAPPY entry! Woohoo! a complete contrast to all that doom and gloom and despair that I've been posting lately. :)



My quest in finding a copy of "The Killing Joke" has finally come to an end! after checking out dozens of different bookstores and comic book shops in different malls all over the metropolis, and still returning home in vain, I tried to do a search in eBay. There's actually one copy being sold! At a very cheap price! And the copy, although used, is allegedly in mint condition! Sweet!!! Though I was ready to purchase the item immediately, I tried to control myself... There are a lot of "Jokers" (hehe) out there after all. The item displayed on the photographs seems good as new, but what if the picture was altered? What if the item pictured was not the actual item? what if the actual item looked liked trash?! I'm a bit of an obsessive -compulsive person when it comes to purchasing items... I have to make sure that whatever it is I'm buying, they have to be in good condition. Okay, except for clothes. I rarely check clothes that i'm buying, I just want to finish the whole ordeal as soon as possible, so a lot of my clothes have minor damages. hehe.

So I contacted the seller, and he swears that the item is really in good condition, and he agreed to meet me so I can check the item personally. If I didn't like it, then I didn't have to buy it. I still had a problem: his preferred drop off points are far from my place. I told him I'm from the south, so he suggested that we meet at a place that is actually very near my house! He must have thought I lived waaaaaaaay down south! lol. The deal was getting sweeter and sweeter! I clicked the "purchase now" button. I can't afford to have anyone beat me to it. So what if I paid more by skipping the bidding process? I was willing to pay triple anyway! lol. Me and my compulsions... I'm basically a scrooge, but for certain things, I act as if I have money to burn.

Now I've just finished reading it and... I guess I got my money's worth, it's considered a classic after all. But the thing was too damn short! And what's with that ending?! It's a nice short story though... though I can't see all those symbolisms and social relevance and social commentaries that every fan seemed to be making a big deal of. I mean, what was all that fuss about? I guess i'd have to read it again, when I'm not sleepy and tired. One can't think of symbolisms when his body already wants to shut down. hehe.

Now my quest begins for a good copy of Sandman: The Kindly Ones. My rapid speed in collecting the Sandman graphic novels was abruptly halted when I couldn't find a copy of the next volume. Argh!!! I'd like to have a copy of Watchmen, too --- but I'm not talking about those ridiculously overpriced Absolute Editions. My compulsions haven't altered my senses that much. hehe.

The Sound of Her Wings

Funny how death comes to people who embrace life, and how death plays coy to people who are sick and tired of the chance at life.

Rotating at the obstetrics and gynecology department was memorable for me, because the patients I have encountered there are extra friendly, and they seem to be more comfortable with sharing their lives to others. They would talk about their dreams and ambitions, their success and failures. In the ward for trophoblastic diseases, wherein the patients have been hospitalized for months, every patient knows my name, because one of the patients there kept referring to me as her future husband, and talks about me incessantly, according to the other patients. They seem to look forward to each time I was on solo duty at the ward. All the teasing and catcalls seem to brighten up the otherwise gloomy place. I didn't mind though, I was glad to bring a little amusement into their lives, even if i wasn't actively participating in such amusement. One of the patients there was placed in the isolation room. She had choriocarcinoma with vaginal metastasis, and was bleeding profusely. She was immunocompromised, but the main reason why she was placed in isolation was because of the foul odor resulting from her disease, which was unpleasant to the other patients. The smell of decaying fish filled the small room. I didn't mind the stench though, I got used to far worse odors. Decaying flesh on a live human smells worse. Her husband and I were her sole connection to the outside world. She was just admitted the previous day. She had been doctor shopping for about a year, and she was only given the correct diagnosis when she sought consult at PGH. She was admitted and scheduled for operation, but it seemed that it was too late. If she was admitted earlier in the course of her disease, the prognosis wouldn't have been as bad. I guess she has grown weary of speaking to her husband who was always at her bedside, so she kept on talking to me every time I would check on her. She really seemed interested in my life, with questions about what I do, my life in med school, my family, my friends, my life outside the hospital... and she talked about her life, her occupation, her family, her children, and how her illness has altered their family's life. She was perenially on blood transfusion,so I have to check for reactions, and she was always bleeding, from minimal to profuse, that i have to insert a thick roll of gauze into her vagina every now and then because it was always soaked. The process was painful, I can see it in her face. But she trusted me, she knew I was doing what was needed to be done. She was confident that her operation the next day would be successful, that she would be well afterwards, good as new. She would continue her life, and there are a lot of things that she still wanted to do. I didn't have the heart to tell her about the prognosis. For the whole night, I was practically at her bedside, leaving only to monitor other patients in the ward, or if another patient needed something. After two days, I was stationed at the post anesthesia care unit, and I didn't even recognize her until I saw her name on the chart. She was a very thin woman when I was with her two nights before, and the woman bearing her same name who was comatose on the bed before me looked grossly overweight at first glance. She was bloated beyond recognition because of edema. I knew she would pass away soon... her pupils were slowly reactive, and her Glasgow Coma Scale score was consistently 3, which was the lowest GCS one can have. She died the next day. apparently, her body wasn't strong enough to withstand the stress from the operation. She had so much to live, and she desperately wants to cling on to the life that was taken from her.

I remember the patient I posted on a previous entry last May. She too transferred from doctor to doctor, and she was only diagnosed correctly in PGH. What was sad was she was seen at the OPD, and they kept sending her home instead of admitting her. She was admitted when it was too late. Her abdomen was grossly enlarged due to massive ascites, and she was very cachexic. i think she was admitted because she could hardly breath. I first encountered her in the admitting section, and she was begging me to cure her--- to save her life. She was subsequently assigned to me at the ward, and I had to assist in her operation. At that late stage, she would either die any moment from the illness or from the stress of operation, so it wouldn't hurt to try to operate on her. Before she was given anesthesia, she kept holding my hand, still begging me to cure her, telling me she has so much to live for, she had many children still depending on her. She told me that she would've stayed home if she could, but her body can no longer stand the pain. She trusted our capabilities and she believed we can save her. She kept saying those words and she seemed to be delirious already. I just stood by her side. Everytime I look into her eyes, her eyes showing desperation, as if begging for mercy, i try to fight back tears. I had so much pity for this woman. Death was very near for her. How can death come to such a person, who wants to live so much that she seemed to be begging for her life, as if her life was in our hands? A such a late stage, her life was in God's hands already. I kept thinking how those doctors assigned at the out patient department kept on sending her home, as they saw her disease progress. Why did they wait until the last minute? I kept thinking how incompetent or uncaring they were, and I was brewing with anger. 14 liters of ascites was drained, and the metastasis from her ovarian cancer was extensive. Her whole peritoneum was littered with metastasis, and so were her liver, spleen, pancreas, bladder, and intestines. There was no way she was going to live. I though she would make it, at least for a few more days because she was conversant the next day when I saw her in the post anesthesia care unit. I was wrong--- she passed away the next day.

Each day I saw a lot of other souls in the hospital like these patients, in all the other wards--- begging for dear life, yet death so stubbornly, still took it away from them.

In my life beyond the walls of the hospital, I have witnessed the work of death when a close friend of mine died 5 years ago. How I miss her. She was such good company, incredibly perky and always smiling, full of life and vigor, that she never failed to brighten up my day even when I was feeling so down. Even with so much problems, she never hated her life, saying there was so much in life that she should be happy for. Such a positive outlook was contagious. Even when she became pregnant out of wedlock, she took it in stride. Even when her family practically disowned her, she still looked at the bright side. Even with her problems with her good for nothing boyfriend, she just though of it as small bumps in the road called life. Then unexpectedly, one day, I heard she died in a car accident, not long after she gave birth. I still regret how I never came to her funeral, with the excuse that the place was too far and I had no means of transportation, that I might get lost, that I found no one to accompany me because she had a different set of friends --- God, I was such a baby back then. Giving such pathetic excuses still haunts me to this day. I didn't cry for her then, maybe because of shock and disbelief. Now i'm wondering why i'm fighting back belated tears as I remember her now. The fact that I never saw her in a casket seems comforting... it creates this illusion that my good friend is still alive somewhere, that I can still see her in the future.

On the other hand, there are people who view life as nothing, who think there's nothing to live for. When I rotated in the psychiatric department, I encountered a lot of patients who have had several suicide attempts. It's funny how death does not give her gift to those who seek it. When talking to them, they talk of hopelessness, loneliness, a life not worth living. They can't see the good things in life, they fail to see the positive things, or they just blatantly ignore the beauty of life. It can be puzzling to others how such people can exist... how such people like me can exist.

Not that I've ever actually attempted suicide, but I have been filled with suicidal thoughts a few years back. I had such trivial reasons. I wanted to die after a big fight with my family, or with my past girlfriend. I wanted to die after getting a low grade in an exam. And the most pathetic reason of all, i wanted to die just because I was late for class. Other reasons seemed to have a semblance of validity--- when I had problems that seem insurmountable, when I've done something really wrong, and my conscience kept on bothering me. I didn't talk about my problems with my friends, because i'm the type of person who chooses to keep his problems to himself. Others may think of my problems as trivial, and they would probably think of me as a lunatic when I talk about suicidal ideations. I don't think anyone knew, for I always put on a mask of happiness or indifference. I rarely showed a face of sadness and despair. I kept on thinking of ways to take my life. I thought of jumping from the roof of a building. I even thought of jumping from the roof of my house which was four stories high. The only thing that stopped me was the realization that i would probably still live, albeit with multiple fractures. I though of drowning myself in the bathroom, locking the door so it will be too late when they've found out what i have done. I though of hanging myself, but I can't find the right spot... our wooden ceiling would probably collapse, foiling my plan. I thought of using my grandfather's gun and shoot myself in the head, right through the roof of my mouth, or at the side of my temple... or use one huge, sharp kitchen knife and stab myself in the heart, because the more gory and the more bloody, the better. it would be more dramatic, it would create a lasting impact. But I eventually chickened out because I was afraid of the pain. I thought of driving my car at top speed and crashing it into a wall, but i didn't want such an expensive way of dying. Maybe I could wait at the sidewalk beside the free way, and just when a speeding bus is approaching, i would throw myself in front of it. What could be more dramatic than appearing on the news the next day? Such thoughts clouded my mind for years, and thankfully I have never made actual attempts to make such thoughts a reality. There were times when I would lock myself in a room, a nervous wreck, contemplating if I should go on with my plan, thinking about it for hours, even all night... I just lie on my bed silently contemplating. I thought there was no reason for living. Just pulling the plug was so tempting. When I was clouded with problems, it was tempting to take the easy way out. I kept hearing the sound of death's wings as she approaches, which seemed to seduce me into accepting her gift, the sound of her wings has a calming and soothing effect, promising that everything will be all right afterwards, that every pain would go away. Sometimes when I'm really ill, i would wish that she would approach me, to worsen the disease, to take my breath, and eventually take my miserable life with her. But in the end, I wasn't brave enough to accept her gift. I would drown myself in alcohol to numb the pain instead. Those poems about death that I've written somewhat served as an outlet. Thoughts of the afterlife also scare me. What if the myth of heaven and hell are true? With the way I've run my life, I would most probably suffer eternal damnation--- I'd rather delay the process by living in my own hell on earth in the meantime. If only I was sure that after death comes nothing, that everything would just go away, i would have probably pulled the plug years ago.

Maybe because i'm older now, or various added experiences have altered my perception of life... I no longer dwell on such suicidal thoughts. I've learned to see the beauty of life. There's so much to be happy about, every problem will eventually come to pass. One just needs to change his or her outlook in life, to focus on the good things and not on the bad things. i have so much to live for and be thankful for. God has given me so much, that I am better off than most. Even though there are a lot of detractors and rumor mongers floating around, I have great friends who are always there for me. I've realized that despite their many faults, I have a great family who loves me and will support me all the way. I am given everything that is needed. i know that i would cause deep sorrow to a number of people if I took my life away. It would be easier if I was really alone, maybe that's why suicide is easy for others --- If I was alone, taking my life would only affect myself, and no other people. I do not want to inflict pain to others, only to myself. Because there are times when I still hear the sound of her wings, teasing me, tempting me with her gift. i just wish my desire for her gift won't overcome the beauty that I now see in life, for despair can cloud one's vision. The sound of death's wings are ignored my others, despised by many... but the soothing sound that it makes can be hypnotizing at times, making one fall into a sweet trance. The sound can be magnetizing at certain times, at the right moment, at the right time --- at least for someone who tends to dwell in misery...

like me.

Stupefied

I just took the entrance exam for residency training in surgery at PGH this morning. I'm not getting my hopes up. The exam was hard (or maybe because I didn't prepare for it?), and I saw a lot of applicants who are more intelligent than I am. Goodbye PGH, hello hospitals wherein only mediocre physicians apply! Years ago, I would have been confident, but presently, I've lost a lot of that confidence.

Way back in high school, I was what some would call a nerd. I wasn't associated with that word initially. During my freshman and sophomore years, although I was at the top of the class, I was never called a nerd. Sure, my classmates would always come to me first for help with academic stuff, but on other aspects, I was treated as their equal. Then on my junior year, when I became part of the honor's class, the word nerd became associated with me, as if it was some sort of stigma given to people who are part of that class. My past friends and classmates bgan to treat me differently, although I was the same person. We were treated as the others. For those who don't know me personally, since they know that I'm part of the honor's class, I was a nerd--- though people close to me know that I'm far from the stereotypical image associated with that word. The image stuck as I moved up in rank, until I was part of the top ten of the whole batch. I guess that boosted my confidence, that anything acamdemic would be a piece of cake. The fact that those IQ tests given yearly show that I have a superior IQ further made me confident. High school academics, for me, was a breeze. i got accepted in all universities that I applied. I was accepted in my choice of courses for each university, and I expected that. One university even kept on calling me to tranfer to their school a month after the school year has started. That was one ego boost.

I don't practice ideal study habits, really. For as long as I can remember, I have always been a crammer. I usually study the night before an exam--- 2 nights before would be a maximum. But I guess I had no choice back in high school since we have quizzes every other day. And when the finals came, I won't really be cramming even when i study only the night before, since I have already read the topics at least once.

In college, I still had high grades during the first two years. But when i reached third year, I grew tired of it all. I began to see the course I was taking as something boring. I thought there was more to life than grades. I joined a lot of organizations, I went to a lot of parties, i drank a lot--- I seem to be living life to the fullest. I prioritized other things. The fact that a number of people thought of me as part of the "cool" group, and that I looked good made me glad. No one saw me as a nerd, i seem to have shaken off that image in this new place. Some people even though of me as stupid, but I didn't care. I thought being perceived as stupid was better than being perceived as a nerd. yeah, my grades suffered. I seem to be contented by just getting passing grades. I would always tell myself that it doesn't matter if I only have passing grades, I'm still studying at the top university in the country. There's this mentality that an average student in that university would be a top student at other schools since academics are much more difficult. I believed in that false mentality, and I succumbed to mediocrity. Still, I didn't care. The fact that cramming was not as effective hurt my grades too. In high school, I have studied the topics already before I take the finals because of all those quizzes. In college, frequently there are only final exams, so I get to read the topics only once. And with such short term memory, I forgot easily.

But my grades during the first two years pulled my average up. Especially in math... thank God fo that subject. I didn't even have to study and I can get perfect scores, while may people found it difficult. I wonder if I should have chosen that field, so I would be doing something I'm good at--- I would be proud of my work. With what i'm doing now, I seem so... mediocre.

I got accepted at all the medical schools that i applied to, except for one. It was understandable. They accept only few students at that med school, and I expected a lot of students would have higher grades than me with the way I screwed up my last two years in college. But I was still proud that my grades were high enough that I made it to the interview. I found comfort in the thought that if I only studied harder, I would surely get accepted. In the other med schools though, I was accepted with no problems. I was on the initial list of accepted applicants, not in wait lists.

The curriculum was problem based, which made me even more lax. There was so much free time--- free time that i'd rather spend doing anything else but to study.I still studied for an exam the night before, but with such a wide coverage for each exam, frequently I don't finish my readings. It's therefore amazing that I never failed an exam. I was proud of that fact, owing it to testmanship. i found solace with the thought that if I really studied, I would surely get high grades--- and I did, during those few modules that I found interesting, so I really studied. Most modules, however, were a big bore for me.

During internship, the big blow to my ego happened when I failed the oral exam on the first try, which seemed really simple that I never expected it. Then I had a really low grade during the final exam in medicine--- my score was on the bottom 10%! I never experienced getting such a low grade, even when I'm not studying! That was my first reality check. Maybe I wasn't as bright as i thought I was... or at least not as bright as before. i used to believe that I was still intelligent, i just wasn't studying enough. I believed that if I studied, I would still excel. But at times, I did study hard, but I still can't achieve what I have achieved before. It seems that with years of misuse and disuse, my brain has failed me and I have actually become stupid.

This week, I found out that I had a really low grade in the Board Exams. Yeah I know it doesn't matter what the grade is, what matters is that I passed--- but I can't help but feel a bit down. I almost failed, for crying out loud! okay, i'm exaggerating. But the fact remains that it's really a low score. Some have said that it's not a low score, but it's a low score for me because i'm not used to getting such grades. I don't care about grades of other people, I just compare my grades to myself--- my past self to be exact. Even though I was really scared before the results came out, because I found several portions very hard, and I wasn't fully prepared... i was still pretty sure that i would pass, because the final grade would be based on percentiles, and so far, with the law of averages, I would almost always manage to get an above average score. In the past, even if at times I never got to study, I never failed an exam --- maybe because I had enough stock knowledge. I have always been bound by the illusion that even without much effort, I can get higher grades than most. I could say i wasn't really prepared because I didn't really finish my readings during my review for the boards, but i know that reason won't suffice. What was really needed in answering the board exam questions is a great amount of stock knowledge. I was accepted in all the top universities in the country even if I didn't study for those entrance exams because I had a great deal of knowledge in stock. I can say the same when I took the national medical admission test. Because I had a great deal of stock knowledge, I reached the 98th percentile even if I did not study for it, and even if I didn't finish answering one portion. But with the haphazard studying I did in med school, no wonder I had limited stock knowledge now. I simply studied the night before, using short term memory for each exam, and forgetting all the knowledge afterwards. I seemed to have retained only the common concepts that were reiterated again and again so it stuck. With such limited stock knowledge, i wonder if I can be a good doctor. As of now, I seem to be very unprepared for this profession. I'm afraid to deal with patients on my own, for i would probably screw up. I'm in a profession where i'm not that good at, where I seem to be mediocre at best. At times, I wonder if I should have chosen a profession where I can use my skills in math. I may find the work boring, but I would be doing an excellent job. Now it seems even that skill has gone rusty. I find math problems difficult now, and i can't seem to recall and comprehend certain concepts, probably because of all these years of not using my skills in math. Now it seems that I'm not good at anything. Average at most, to being mediocre. What a downer.

Come to think of it, I'd rather be seen as a nerd who's uncool, than to be seen as someone who's cool but stupid. I wish I could turn back time. How wrong i was back then.

One shouldn't be ashamed when one is called a nerd--- one should take it as a compliment.

Being called a nerd is something to be proud of.