Pretenders

That's Dr. Nick Riviera from The Simpsons. It's funny seeing his antics on TV, but when you see such incompetent doctors in real life, it's not funny at all. I started this other job last week, as an emergency medicine physician at a government hospital near the private hospital where I'm currently employed since January. I'm not required to report to that hospital everyday, so I though I might as well find something else to do during those days when I don't have work. So when I was offered this job, I accepted it. I figured i could use the extra money. And the pay IS good. Plus, since I'd be working in a government hospital again, i'd feel right at home. Only it wasn't really a government hospital, in the sense that services rendered weren't for free. They had fees for everything! Expenses were only cheaper compared to most private hospitals... a lot of patients can't even buy the medicines needed, and they expect them to pay for miscellaneous hospital fees and professional fees? You'd expect that there would be some free stuff, but NO. everything has a price. It's even more frustrating that there are no actual licensed surgeons on duty, so we have to send even critical patients away and advise them to transfer to other hospitals. And we also have to send patients away due to overcrowding--- a problem common to all government hospitals. With the number of patients we have to turn away, I can't help but think that it was a somewhat useless hospital. I mean, what purpose does it serve if it can't cater to the needs of the less fortunate constituents in the city? The city would've been fine if it wasn't built at all.

The first day of duty was relatively benign. Sure, I didn't get to sleep at all, but the patient load wasn't really much... at least it's not much compared to the number of patients I had to attend to where I used to work. Patients appeared constantly, but at least they do not come in droves. I got to eat on time, and the work load wasn't that physically taxing. But I had a big problem. I was in unfamiliar territory. For the past year, I've handled nothing but surgical cases. As a result, it seemed that I've become unfamiliar with medical cases. That's a huge problem because in the emergency room in that hospital, patients aren't distributed per department. That means I get to handle every patient that walks in--- be it surgical, medical, gynecological, pediatric, obstetric... when one pregnant patient came in, I did an internal exam, but I wasn't sure anymore about what I was palpating. On my last duty, three geriatric patients came in with chest pain. I gave the initial medications and I immediately ordered ECGs done... but I wasn't sure about what I should do next. When the ECG tracings were handed to me, it seemed Greek to me. Crap! It's been two years since I've read an ECG tracing, I could barely read one now! I've been used to referring such patients to the medical department immediately, so now I can't seem to manage such patients on my own! I asked the consultant on duty that night, but he wasn't much help. He didn't finish training as an emergency physician nor as an internist... his residency training program was surgery, so he was also not used to handling medical cases! I ran towards the callroom and quickly scanned some medical books. Then I ordered this and that medication, not really sure of what i was doing. It must have been dumb luck because the patients seemed to have stabilized. It was so embarrassing. And i pity the patients coming in for help, expecting expert advise from such inept novices. It's even more pitiful when one realizes that such scenarios are pretty commonplace. When i receive referrals from other hospitals, i can see a lot of doctors improperly managing their patients. As a physician on duty in the emergency room, I see myself as inept. But a lot of these other physicians are even more inept than me. What does that say about the health care system in the country? Emergency situations call for competence, and yet many physicians on duty in emergency rooms aren't competent enough. They say it's difficult to properly screen employees since a lot of physicians are leaving the country. Strict screening procedures would drive the few interested applicants away. Resignation isn't really the best option, knowing that they can really use my help. I guess until proper screening procedures are implemented, going back to my medical books to refresh my knowledge is the most responsible choice. Without sufficient knowledge, I wouldn't be able to help even if I wanted to--- I could even be doing more harm than good, even though my intentions remain pure. Pure intentions aren't enough. A little knowledge can go a long way. Hopefully when I return there next week, I can already make the right decisions, i can treat my patients properly. Hopefully, I can manage each patient because I know how, not because I'm pretending to know how.

Regurge

Another heated argument with the father yesterday morning. A proper welcome to the place I call home. I just came straight from a 48 hour duty, and I was in no mood for such shenanigans. I answered back. Again and again and again. When I chose to stay silent, it was apparently too late. A lot of words had already poured out of my mouth. He asked why I was so pissed at him. Do I really have to enumerate?! He started the argument for no apparent reason, and he was wondering why I am so pissed?! A moment of awkward silence followed. And then he left. I needed a drink. Badly. So I was planning to get really drunk when I went out last night.

I was in a familiar bar. In the company of familiar people. I ordered a drink, a strong one to start the evening with a bang. But something wasn't right. Just one sip, and the juices in my stomach were churning the wrong way. Just one sip, and I felt like vomiting. Crap, this can't be. After almost two long weeks, I still had gastritis?!

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

I need my alcohol! It's a necessity, and I need it badly! Without it, I could go crazy! It's the only thing keeping me sane during times of frustration and desperation! How long will this stupid gastritis last?! My stomach has given up on me... it's possible that my mind could give up one me next.

Punch Drunk Love

No other day in the year can be so blatantly MANUFACTURED as Valentine's Day. Heck, it's even more commercialized than Christmas. At least Christmas, when all the gloss is taken away, stands for something of value. It's a day when people commemorate something that's actually worth commemorating. And I'm not just saying this because I'm currently single. I've felt the same way about February 14 even when I was in a relationship. Do we really need to mark this date on our calenders, so that we can show how much we love our better halves? Can't we show them how much we love them any day of the year? Can't we show them how much we love them EVERY DAY of the year? And if we really want to mark one special day in our calendars, isn't that what anniversaries are for? The day the relationship started--- now that's something worth celebrating. Not some special occasion resulting from some ingenious marketing strategy, giving those huge corporations another excuse to jack up the prices of whatever it is they are selling.

That's why it was perfectly fine that I slept through the whole day. The previous night, I was out drinking with a few friends. I had no work on Valentines, and since I wouldn't be driving home, I planned to get really drunk that night. Dead drunk. I was taunting the bartender, asking him for something much stronger, the strongest concoction he could make, because every drink he was giving me did not even make me tipsy. I guess that challenged him, because the last drink he gave me literally shook my senses.

I couldn't remember several events that happened that night... which is nothing new. I've had blackouts before, and as always I couldn't believe all the things that I've allegedly been doing, except for that one time when they actually caught me on video making a fool of myself. I can't help it. I feel really happy when I'm drunk. False happiness, I know... but it's that great feeling that keeps me coming back for more. No matter how bad I feel the next day, waking up with a splitting headache and puking my guts out, the happiness makes it all worthwhile. If alcohol was a person, she'd be the temptress that I'll be loving for the rest of my life, no matter how bad the consequences are.

Yesterday was the worst morning after. That was the first time that i still felt drunk even after having a few hours of sleep. Usually I just had a headache, but when I woke up that morning I thought I was still dreaming. We slept at a friend's house, and before we were unceremoniously evicted, i puked. Then when we arrived at another friend's house, i puked again. Then I slept for about seven hours. When I woke up, I still didn't feel well rested. There was this persistent salty taste in my mouth, my throat was sore from all that vomiting, and I still felt dizzy and nauseated. i tried to eat dinner, but I puked again after two spoonfuls. It had been more than twelve hours and my tummy still can't tolerate food intake. It seemed that I had gastritis. For the first time, the damage secondary to alcohol didn't seem to be the usual short term variety.

I had to cancel the plans I had. When I got home I just slept. So what if it was Valentine's? It's not like I would be missing a special occasion. When I woke up the next day, I still found it hard to eat much. Stupid gastritis. Why are you taking such a long time to heal?! It's almost 48 hours now, and I still have that salty taste in the mouth, probably resulting from some minor bleeding. And I still can't eat much. I feel bloated and I still feel like puking. I hate this feeling, and earlier I swore I wouldn't drink alcohol again. Yeah right. I wouldn't drink alcohol... for now.

I'll probably be back to my old routine next week when everything is back to normal.

Saints and Sinners

I went out with a group of people last night, just harmless fun, drinking and dancing. Even though I didn't get to sleep at all the previous night because work at the hospital was unusually "toxic", I went straight to the club after taking a bath and having a late dinner. One of them was an extremely close friend that I rarely see, so when he asked if I had any plans for the night, I said I had none even though all I wanted to do was sleep. The dance floor was extremely crowded, and I didn't get to drink much because every drink was ridiculously overpriced. Still, I had some fun. I got home just before 6 in the morning. I didn't sleep immediately because I talked with another friend for about an hour or so. By the time I put the phone down, I was completely exhausted and fell asleep in an instant.

I guess it was around 3 PM when THE father was trying to wake me up. It was time to get up so I could get ready for church. UGH. I was so sleep deprived and I had a minor headache. I would rather stay in bed than to go to church, pretending I'm some devout catholic. I was not in the mood for pretensions...So I ignored him each time he tried to wake me up. When it was almost 5 PM, he shouted at me, his voice filled with the very familiar tone of anger. Insert the obligatory curse words between sentences. "What you're doing isn't good! You have been given a second chance at life", apparently alluding to the accident that happened a month ago. "That should have been a wake up call for you to change! Most of all, you should be very thankful to the Lord! And still, you choose to stay in bed instead of hearing mass! I hope you realize what you are doing and I hope you change your ways soon!" Then I heard him slam the door.

Jesus-freakin'-christ. Mr. hypocrite is at it again. Funny how he can talk of the Lord and yet insert cuss words in the same sentence. If only he kept talking for a few seconds longer, I would've made two points clear.

1) I do believe in the existence of a superior being, an entity we refer to as "God"... but I don't believe in the Catholic faith, or any other faith for that matter. Going to church every Sunday is just an exercise in pretension. A CHORE that I'm not really fond of doing. I just go with them so that I wouldn't upset my grandparents who are overly zealous and devout catholics.

2) I didn't die because the "Lord" saved me, or because he didn't want me to die at that time, for some unknown reason... That it wasn't my time yet, that dying then wasn't part of his plan for me. Oh please. I didn't die because the airbags didn't malfunction, because the the doors didn't jam, and because the impact was probably not that strong in the first place. If they purchased the lower end model of the car, the one with no airbags, specifically tailored for the budget conscious, I would probably be a goner. Some may argue that "God" made sure that the car didn't explode upon impact, that he made sure the doors didn't jam yadda yadda yadda. Or that the Lord whispered to my parents something like they should purchase the high end model for me when the car was bought a few months ago. That was not miracle at work. That's common sense. If you had the money, why on earth would you buy the model that lacked safety features?! And even, for the sake of argument, some superior being really did save me from death and gave me this second chance at life... as I've mentioned in a previous entry, I'm not really thankful for this second chance. It would've been perfectly fine if I had died.

They apparently left already, so I just slept again. I woke up at about an hour later, ate dinner, and then slept again. It was probably around 9PM when they got home. As expected, Mr. Hypocrite aka He-who-thinks-he's-some-supreme-being woke me up. With the same raised voice, still filled with anger but not as loud, he said, "You are already old enough to know the difference between what's right and wrong, I hope you realize that what you've done is very wrong, for your sake!"

UGH. What exactly did i do that was VERY WRONG? I didn't hear mass because I felt tired. Was that such a horrible act? Was that such a grave mortal sin, even worse than theft,rape, or murder? The problem in this predominantly catholic country, people are judged on the basis of their faith. One of my grandfather's general rules is that we should never miss mass. We should go to church on Sunday no matter what. He's such a devout catholic, when the basis is the number of times a person prays, the number of times a person goes to church. So what if most of the sentences coming out of his mouth are filled with cuss words? So what if he sneaks in prostitutes inside his room when he thinks everyone is already asleep? So what if he still watches his massive porn collection regularly at the age of 81? It doesn't matter because be prays regularly and confesses his sins regularly. Never mind the fact that once he gets out of that confession booth, he reverts back to his usual ways.

The problem is, our values and our worth as a person are judged on our allegiance to religion. Those who pray regularly are good people. Those who don't are evil. It's just black and white, there are no shades of grey. How many of those devout catholics steal, cheat, rape, murder? Some of them are priests and nuns for crying out loud, the so called leaders of the catholic church! So don't they dare teach us about morality! Don't they dare accuse others as sinners when they turn a blind eye when they see the demons within their ranks! I know a lot of agnostics and atheists who act better than those catholics. I even think of myself as generally "good", even when I don't have faith. I know the difference between right and wrong, and I always do what I think is right. My conscience is intact. Helping others seem to be second nature, and I never would want to hurt others intentionally. Some even say I am too good, even if they are aware of the dastardly acts that I have done. Even though my soul has been corrupted somewhat, they still describe me as a person who's soul is "pure". And yet in the eyes of my father and grandfather, I'm such a sinful person because I chose not to hear mass. All the good I have done, all the good that I am capable of doing is completely set aside. Because according to their faith, any person who does not believe in that faith will go straight to hell no matter how much good he has done in his life.

If heaven is going to be filled with such self righteous pricks, then maybe hell wouldn't be such a bad place to go to after all.

Big Boys Don't Cry

I can count the number of times I cried in one hand, at least those times that I was old enough to actually remember. Sure, I've grown teary eyed on several occasions--- during those times when I'm overcome with despair, and as much as I'd hate to admit it... I've grown teary eyed while watching some sappy movies that I could somehow relate to. But when you ask me how many times actual tears fell from my eyes?

1) When I watched some cartoon when I was like 9 or 10 years old. It was about talking dinousaurs, their journey through a land before time. I cried when the mommy dinosaur died.

2) When I was in college, when my mom was diagnosed with an early form of cancer. It was a rapidly progressing type, and when she initially told us the news, I was initially stone faced. The following week was mother's day, and I thought of buying her a greeting card. As I was choosing the perfect card at a bookstore near my college, I thought of how much I loved her, and I thought of how I rarely spent time with her. I lived in my grandmother's house, and I only get to see her once a week. I could've been buying the last greeting card I could give her, and with that thought I couldn't help but cry in public. Good thing she was diagnosed on time, and proper treatment was given.

3) During a retreat in college, when I told a very close friend the truth, why I behaved that way, why I never thought of sharing my pain with anyone. Why I chose to carry the burden alone. As we embraced each other, I tried so hard to keep the tears from falling.

4) Late 2004. When some girl told me we were not meant to be. That we would be better off as friends. As much as I hate to admit it, I cried myself to sleep that night. There was a lot of waterworks. It makes me sick just thinking about how much tears I cried for such a horrible person. I could've shed tears for so many other girls, but I only shed tears for her.

5) Around May last year, when my grandmother had another heart attack. I was on duty at the hospital, and I couldn't just leave. My dad called me on my cellular phone and told me how bad the prognosis was. I grew up with my grandmother and she's a big part of my life. I realized how badly I was treating her, how I never showed her how much I appreciate everything she has done. I was such a selfish, arrogant brat. I dismissed her caring hands, even loathed her a times. Overcome with regret, with the fear that it might have been too late... feeling trapped within the walls of the hospital, when all I wanted to do was leave--- I just sat down on one of the chairs on that dark corridor behind the wards, as I silently cried.

And during those few times, I tried very hard to suppress my tears. Boys don't cry, crying is for wussies... shedding tears is a sign of weakness. Crying is synonymous to giving up. That's what I've been told. Better to channel those frustrations into anger. In this dog-eat-dog world, it is better to hide those emotions, than to show others that you are vulnerable.

This attitude creates a stoic whose only emotional expression is anger, says William Pollack, PhD, a renowned Harvard psychologist. A man who didn't cry as a boy will be disconnected and may try to numb his depression with alcohol, fast driving, and women. Great for a country song, not so great for living.

I'm not sure how accurate his findings are. But if there's some degree of truth in it, no wonder I turn to things that only serve to f*ck up my life even more, in this seemingly futile search for what continuously evades me.

Gamer Again

11/01/07 --> My cousin was arranging the things in her bag, and one of the things she brought out was a PSP. She must’ve seen me glanced at it, so she asked me if I wanted to borrow it. She said it was her husband’s, but she didn’t think he would mind. So I played with the games casually. The games that were preloaded didn’t interest me much, but it was better than doing nothing. A few minutes later, her daughter came. “Is that my PSP?”, she said loudly. “That’s my PSP! That’s my PSP!!!!”, she kept repeating, the intensity of her voice grew louder after each repetition. Jesus Christ. In my head, I answered “NO! This is your dad’s PSP! Not Yours!” Knowing it would be futile to keep holding on to the device, I handed it to her. Here it is, you spoiled little brat. Eat your selfish little heart out.

I never wanted to buy a PSP. I thought it was an unnecessary device, something I would never use. It’s just not practical for someone in the medical field… or so I thought. Imagine my surprise when almost all of the doctors in the hospital where I’m currently working has a PSP. And because it’s a private hospital and there are less patients as compared to government hospitals, they do have a lot of time to play with it. After a few days, I felt a bit out of place… I couldn’t join their mini PSP versus battles, and I can’t relate with their conversations regarding the latest games. And since I easily give in to peer pressure… when I received my first salary, I went straight to a nearby mall and bought myself a PSP.

Crap. As I went home, I kept wondering if I made the right decision. I wondered if I wasted my money, yet again. But as soon as I turned on the device, all doubts had disappeared. I was in gaming bliss until the wee hours of the morning. Burnout is the best game ever. LOL.

I haven’t really played videogames for years. I casually tinkered with my brother’s Playstation 2, but I never really played the games he had. The last time I was dedicated to a videogame console was with our Dreamcast, and that was 6 years ago. I used to be addicted to videogames---- I sacrificed precious study time just to keep on playing. When I turned on my PSP, it’s like a sleeping part of me had awakened.

And it’s not just a device for games! I could play music, videos, and I even put some of my favorite pictures. Playing music is comparable to the ipod, but the PSP has some visualizations--- something the ipod lacks, which is a pity since itunes has one of the best visualizations I’ve ever seen. It’s not really a necessity, I guess--- after all, who looks at the screen while listening to music? But a few bells and whistles here and there can add to a product's gloss. Watching videos is better because of the larger screen. Viewing pictures is also better. You can also zoom in and view the photos in their original sizes, something I couldn’t do with the ipod. And since it comes with WLAN, you can surf the net each time you’re within a wireless hotspot! If only the device was a bit smaller, and if it only had a whole lot more storage available at a reasonable price, it could totally replace my ipod!

As for console gaming... I doubt if a new videogame console such as an XBOX 360, Wii, or PS3 would be a wise purchase. After all, I plan to go back to residency training soon, and videogame consoles belong at home, not in a hospital... but there’s a PS3 in the department of surgery. I watched the others play occasionally, but I’m not really interested. They kept on playing the same game, Call of Duty--- and I’m not really a fan of first person combat games. But a few days ago, one of them asked me if I wanted to play. I looked at the other games, and I saw Virtua Fighter 5. I have fond memories of the previous incarnations of the game. VF2 on Saturn, and VF3 on Dreamcast. As soon as I started the game, I immediately remembered how much I loved the series. Virtua Fighter is the best fighting game ever. I was foolish to think that Soul Calibur is the best. Tekken and Soul Calibur seem shallow compared to it. Anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Either he has never played Virtua Fighter, he’s just a casual gamer who hasn’t spent enough time with the game to discover how deep and fulfilling it is, or he’s some Tekken fanboy who can’t accept the fact that Tekken is just an inferior copycat of Virtua Fighter.

Virtua Fighter 5 is a really beautiful game. My jaw dropped when I saw some of the backgrounds. Just look at these pictures (c/o IGN.com)…

Those are actual in game screen shots... yet they still don't give the game justice. You have to see it in motion! The first time I saw Sarah Bryant in motion in VF5, her breasts jiggling a bit (hehe), it was like being reunited with your first love. LOL. Only now, she's hotter than ever! I had to grapple with some of the characters that I used to play, I found it hard to remember some of their special moves--- Especially Lion Rafale's, which was the character I often used before. I tried El Blaze, one of the new characters, and I couldn’t help but smile as I managed to pull off his special wrestling moves--- I remembered the days when I was addicted to WWF, thinking all the things I saw on TV was real. Hehe. Picture perfect graphics combined with perfect gameplay makes it the ultimate fighting game. I hogged the PS3 for hours. When one of my seniors made a comment that I was now officially an addict, I saw that as a sign that I had to give back the controller to him--- it was HIS PS3, after all. If I got carried away, I could’ve bought myself a PS3 as soon as I went home. hehe. Good thing I regained full control of my senses.

It’s great to be a gamer again. :)