Public Disservice

Roadwork has started on the northern end of our street last April, and it was nowhere close to being finished. That's why I had to pass through the side streets and take the longer route home for the past few months. They said the old pipes need to be replaced, and since the pipes on our street are located right smack in the middle of the road, they can't do repairs one lane at a time. The entire width of the road has to be smashed up, hence making that section of the street inaccessible to vehicles. I wonder what's taking them so long. Limited supplies? Budgetary constraints? Not enough manpower? Or too much time off for the workers? and I wonder why they have to start doing their repairs at the start of the rainy season. Everything was fine before their work started, we weren't experiencing any problems with water drainage. I wonder if repairs were really needed to be done, or if this was just another opportunity for incumbent politicians to show that the taxpayers' money are working for them since elections are going to be held next year. Heck, ever the cynic, I suspect that this also gives those politicians a chance to siphon more of the tax payers money with their under the table deals with construction companies.

When I got home from work this afternoon, there were a lot of people outside, but i didn't really mind them. I was so tired, and all i wanted to do was lie on my bed and sleep. When i woke up several hours later, I heard the sound of trucks outside. And--- I swore i could have been wrong at first, but i was hearing the sound of jackhammers. I went outside to take a look.

F*ck. Just like that, someone had the bright idea to do roadwork on our part of the street, even when the northern end was far from being finished! Now the entire length of our street was closed! My dad and grandparents were pissed, because apparently we weren't informed beforehand! Even our neighbors weren't informed beforehand, and everyone was angry! My dad and my brother had to park their cars on some side street a mile away, while my car was trapped in our garage. Who wouldn't be pissed? For the next few weeks--- or god forbid, MONTHS, knowing how road work crawls at a snail's pace in this country... I'm back to using public transport. Our other cars would be exposed to possible theft. And then there's my grandmother, who has already been rushed to the hospital several times this year, most often in the middle of the night. How the heck are we supposed to carry her all the way to our car that's parked a mile away and reach the hospital in time when the road outside our house resembles a demolition site?! At its present state, it looks as if an atomic exploded!

My dad has talked to the mayor (who's my grandfather's friend), and he said roadwork would be done in a few days. It's possible--- on another city, roadwork was done in only two days... but then again, the house of the mayor's mother was on that street. The same thing cannot be said with regard to the other streets in this country though. That's too bad, because having VIPs within the vicinity seems to be the only way to make people work both quickly and efficiently. A little over a week, let's see. That's what the mayor said. We're just hoping nothing bad happens within the next few days... nothing emergent, nothing critical. No life or death situation. because if something does happen, you can bet on it... our family will SURELY raise HELL.

Priorities

So my mom's at the hospital. I was supposed to keep her company because my sisters were about to go home before midnight. One has to go to school at 7 AM tomorrow, the other has to go to work at 6 AM. My dad was still at a meeting. I was about to leave the house when my grandmother told me she was finding it hard to breath. When her condition stabilized, she told me not to leave because her condition might worsen again. My sisters live with my parents, while me and my brother live at our grandparent's house. So if I left, only my grandfather and our helper would be left with my grandmother, neither of whom are able to drive a car, in case she needs to be brought to the hospital--- again. And yet, my mother was alone at the hospital, because my sisters already left. They thought I was already on my way because I told them I was about to leave. Someone needs to be with my mom, to attend to some of her needs. I know for a fact that nurses aren't always readily available, especially when you're confined in a private room. And it's gets incredibly lonely being confined in a huge room all by yourself! Man, it was one of those instances that I wished I could be in two places at the same time.

Oh yeah! There's one person who's still not in the picture, right? Where was my brother??? Truth is, I have no idea. I sent him a text messages regarding the situation, and I tried calling him but he did not even reply. He didn't go home for the weekend... heck, he hasn't been home for the past few weekends. During weekdays he's at work in the province, so that's understandable. Usually he's home during weekends. But since the start of the new year, he's been going around the country with his new girlfriend and a few friends, not for business, but for plain leisure.... because he's so stressed out from work, that he needs to take a break and have fun every weekend--- that's what he says. When my grandmother was confined at the ICU for almost a month last January, he only visited on Friday nights, and he only stays for less than an hour before he goes to another one of his mini vacations. He brings a lot of stuff during his visits, as if material things would suffice or even compensate. I heard from him yesterday, asking for medications and first aid treatment. Apparently he got into a minor skateboarding accident. I wondered why the heck was he skateboarding when our mother's at the hospital. Even my dad's upset, and this is one of the few situations when I understand where he's coming from. This time, I agree with him. But hey, my brother is living his own life. The choices he makes are his, no one but himself can decide which actions he should take. He's old enough to determine which are right and wrong, even when his perceptions seem distorted to others. We all have different quirks, some of which others may find hard to understand. If he thinks that skateboarding with his friends while our mom's at the hospital is perfectly okay, then that's his prerogative. It's his life. It's his world.

Talk about your fucked up priorities.

Gunning For Gluttony

So we were having a family dinner at a restaurant earlier today. We brought our grandmother with us, she's finally strong enough again and able to walk short distances. As usual, a lot of food were ordered, a lot of them high in salt, high in fat, plus a bunch of those that are high in sugar for dessert--- yup, all things that are not supposed to be eaten by my grandmother. She ordered a separate meal for herself, a bland diet that would finally make her doctor proud. I guess the fact that her last stay at the hospital was such a close call finally got to her. Whereas before she would order anything she wanted--- all those that are high in salt, high in fat, high in sugar... even blurting out lines such as, "just kill me if you won't allow me to eat what I want!!!"... this time she was obeying her doctor's orders. I actually found it amusing. I can no longer count the times when I caught her eating something that she wasn't supposed to be eating, only putting on a smile as she held onto the food on her mouth, like a child who was caught doing something he or she was not allowed to. I can no longer count the times I've found a hidden stash of junk food in her room--- under her bed, in her closet, wherever. She was every doctor's nightmare--- the type of patient who is a high risk for everything, and yet refused to comply with the doctor's orders. She was so stubborn, saying she'd rather die than to live like a prisoner, and yet when she experiences her usual bouts of dizziness, chills, and difficulty of breathing, she looks so helpless, begging for immediate rescue from everyone. She says she'd rather die as long as she's able to do what she wants, yet in those moments of weakness, it's so obvious that she desperately wants to cling on to life. At those times, I always have the urge to ignore her for even a few minutes just to teach her a lesson. Nothing seemed to make her realize that she needs to change her lifestyle, not even those repeated confinements at the hospital. But miraculously, this time, it seems that she has finally had an awakening.

Then our food was served. Without warning, my dad put several servings of all that high in salt, high in fat food on my grandmother's plate. I gave him THAT look. He asked me what's the problem. He said it was the holidays so it's okay to veer from one's diet. What a stupid excuse--- the type of excuse you'd expect from hard headed patients and their incredibly stubborn families. Then he said he was only giving her small servings. SMALL SERVINGS?! I wouldn't call that small servings, he gave her more than what my sisters were eating! As for my grandmother? I thought she finally learned her lesson... and yet she ate EVERYTHING.

Geez, the next time she goes into another one of those attacks, don't they dare ask me again what's causing it. She's causing her own problems, and the family is aggravating matters by patronizing her. It's a vicious cycle that would go on and on until the final days of her life.

Time in, Time Out

It's day 12 of this replay of pre residency training, and things are getting crazier and crazier. Tension has been escalating exponentially, and the so called seniors are making things harder and harder. One of the things that i don't understand is that we have to sign in for attendance at exactly 4 AM each day, even though we're at the hospital all the time. Thrice my name was already crossed out. I wouldn't mind it if I came from home and was really late. Heck, I wouldn't really mind it even if I was at the hospital and failed to sign because I fell asleep. But during all three instances, I was at the hospital working! and it's not like I was really late in signing. It was only 4:15 AM when I went up to the surgery lounge to sign in a few minutes ago, and they already crossed out a lot of our names!

That's it. I don't care about that stupid "attendance" sheet anymore. It has turned into nothing but bull--- another tool to whet the appetites of the power hungry. If they want us to drop everything we're doing no matter how important it is, even if doing so would be detrimental to our patients... just to be able to sign on some stupid piece of paper, then so be it. If they're seriously considering using that stupid attendance sheet as a criteria to determine the people who would get accepted in the department of surge-fuckin'-ry, then they have more than a few screws loose. It's just another proof that the way they run this so called pre residency training is so fucked up. They can cross out my name for the next two weeks for all I care. In my heart I am doing my work.I am not slacking off in any way. If they will base my performance on the number of signatures on that attendance sheet, then that's their call. I don't care at all.

Two Sides of The Trade

Last week, a good friend of mine asked me if I was on duty. It was my day off from work, and I was just surfing the net at home, so I told him I was just at home doing nothing important. He asked me if I wanted to go out, he was having problems with his work--- at a crossroad, so to speak. Plus, his love life, which seemed cloyingly warm and sunny a few weeks back, suddenly fell apart. He wanted to talk, maybe over a few rounds of beer. As we were driving around looking for a place to hang out, we ended up at the part of the city where there were so called health clubs and massage parlors left and right. He then asked me if I was in the mood for something that wasn't so wholesome. I immediately knew what he was talking about. Although I've never been inside one of those places, I'm aware that most of those establishments are just fronts for prostitution. Health club my ass. I know there are extra services rendered after a so-so massage. It's been a while since I last got laid, and since I've never been inside one of those places, I figured--- what the heck. I'd chalk one up for experience.

We went inside the first health club. The interiors were classy enough, you'd really think it was a legitimate spa. Along with a couple of other men, we were led towards a room with a viewing window--- not much different from those viewing rooms you see on cop shows on TV, where suspects line up and you'd be asked to identify the culprit. When the curtains were drawn, a number of women, all smiles and fully made up, wearing clothing that left very little to the imagination, each one with a number on the upper portions of their clothing, were seated side by side. Unlike the other men in the room, I didn't feel excitement. Yeah, I was quite horny as we were led to the viewing room, but when the curtains were drawn, I felt a sudden wave of sadness and guilt come over me. I'm not a newbie in the flesh trade--- heck, I'm not what you can call a beginner, since I've been engaging in the very risky practice of picking up random women (who are obviously in the flesh trade) in the streets occasionally, for several years now. But the experience in the "health club" was very different. For one thing, it wasn't a one on one transaction, wherein you immediately get down to business because terms were already understood. A lot of people were involved that time. There was the manager of the place, along with usherettes giving out recommendations. There were also other patrons in the room, choosing the right girl to render services to them. I've never seen women treated that way, where they were lined up as commodities, like meat or vegetables that you buy in the market. Life must be really difficult for those women to resort to such work. They were all wearing smiles, trying to look as enticing as possible to would be customers that they can't see through the one way mirror--- but those smiles were obviously not genuine. Those smiles can't hide the desperation and sadness you see in their eyes. they were obviously forced by circumstances into a job that they didn't want to be doing in the first place. I know exactly how they are feeling. My friend didn't find anyone he liked, so we left. I immediately felt a sense of relief when we got out of the building.

I was no longer in the mood, but obviously my friend wasn't. He had a lot of problems, and if that was the way to relieve some of the stress that he was feeling, then I should be there to support him. We stopped by three other health clubs before we found girls that we found attractive. We were led to separate rooms, and I waited for the girl I picked--- some half Asian- half Australian, who was referred to as Number 34. When she entered the room, the smile was gone, all that I saw in her face were her real emotions. Mostly apathy, with a hint of misery, as if saying "let's just get this done with immediately so that we can move on..." It was my first time, so I asked questions. She didn't seem surprised, saying I looked too young to be frequenting places like that--- most of her customers were dirty old men, although there's the occasional 21 year old like me (LOL!) who's looking for his first sexual experience. I almost laughed. I played innocent, and I asked her if all of them gave sexual services, and if so, doesn't that make them prostitutes? She admitted that pointblank--- what else would they be doing there? She's not really a masseuse---- but if I wanted a massage she could give me one. If I didn't want her other services it would have been fine with her, she'll just leave and I could stay in the room until my time was up. Obviously she was in no mood to talk about her life, which I assume to be riddled with anecdotes on poverty based on the sporadic answers she was giving me. I really wasn't in the mood for sex that time--- her indifference clearly wasn't helping either. i told her to just give me a massage, then we'll talk about where we'll go from there.

That was the most. pathetic. massage. ever. At least she was truthful from the very start--- she really wasn't a masseuse. I told her to give me a hard massage since I'm just tickled when being given a soft massage. She was basically just rubbing ointment all over me, with no pressure at all. Jeez, we weren't at a beach and I wasn't asking her to rub sunblock on me. When I told her to put some pressure, I felt as if she was deliberately tickling me. Apparently she found my stifled laughter weird since she gave me a certain look. Great, now the mood was definitely a hundred percent gone. Afterwards, she asked me if I wanted anything else. Seeing that I still had 30 minutes to spare, I asked her if she really wanted to do those extra services, because her face clearly shows that she doesn't want to... and I wouldn't force anyone to do anything they don't want. It would be okay for me to just take a nap. She said that although a part of her doesn't want to, another part of her wants to because she really needs the money. The amount I paid on the front desk doesn't go to her, but for the extra services, all the money I pay her goes directly to her, she doesn't have to give a part of it to the establishment. Although the mood was lost, my sense of charity wasn't. And although she didn't say it outright, I felt that she was hoping that I would say yes.

And so we did it. It wasn't great, and although her stinky pussy (which was one of the stinkiest my olfactory nerves have ever been exposed to) nearly ruined it, i would say it was satisfactory. And I finally saw a genuine smile as I gave her the money. I had to wait outside for a few minutes since my friend was taking his sweet time. I sat at the couch on the foyer area, and I saw more gentlemen coming in, taking their pick. Once again, I was overcome with pity.

Fast forward three days. My grandmother's health was becoming problematic again. It's bad enough that I'm in a line of work that I don't really want to be in--- but I could treat that as simply WORK. Things that I HAVE to do for MONEY, and thankfully I could isolate work from the other aspects of my life. But to do the same WORK at home where I should be free from the stress of work--- that can really get on my nerves at times, especially since the whole family relies on me, saying I'm the doctor in the family. It doesn't matter if i absolutely detest everything about internal medicine, it doesn't matter if I'm not really an expert in that field and that I might be making the wrong decisions, that I might not be treating her properly... to them, I'm a doctor. period. I should be able to manage her case well. I love my grandmother, but at times like that when her numerous health problems crop up, the pressure I'm feeling get so high, I feel as if I'm going to explode.

I had plans that night, which I obviously had to postpone or maybe cancel since I was the only one at home who can drive her to the hospital in case things turned from bad to worse. Thankfully my dad got home just before midnight and I was able to leave--- of course a bit of scolding came with it, saying I don't care about anyone else but myself yadda yadda yadda.... but I was able to leave! On the way home I decided to drive around since I wasn't sleepy yet. As I turned on one corner--- whoa, what was that? A scantily clad female was smiling at me... although she obviously can't see me through the tinted windows of my car. Ah, now that's the type of flesh trade that I'm accustomed to. I drove away, but then I thought of making another round, and she was still there. I thought I should drive away and just go home, she wasn't even that attractive in the first place. Just when I thought that my rational side had already won, i started thinking with my dick again instead of my head. I made another round and she was no longer there. I said thank God, but then she popped out of nowhere. I drove away again, then drove back. There she was, very plain looking yet somehow inexplicably attractive to my dick, now walking towards my car. I unlocked the door on the passenger's side, said hello, and immediately laid down the terms.

Fast forward 15 minutes. Seedy hotel with the smell of cigarettes and mothballs. Paid at the front desk. Went back to the room. Five minutes and we were done. That was fast. It was a long night and I was beat. I fell asleep. Woke up after an hour. She was no longer there. That dirty average looking slut was no longer there. Still a bit dazed as I went to the bathroom... what I saw as I went back to the bed completely woke me up. It shook me back to my senses. My bag was open. I checked my bag and I was relieved. I laughed out loud when I saw that my ipod, camera, and PSP where still beneath my gym clothes. The bitch wasn't smart enough to check. My wallet was still at the dresser--- only spare change were there, of course she wouldn't take it. Then I remembered another prized possession. I checked my bag again, on the side pocket this time, and as I expected--- it was gone. My cellphone was gone! That good for nothing bitch! I told myself I must be dreaming, but it was very, very real! Yeah, it was a crappy phone, but it would take a month's salary to replace that phone... and I'm not actually swimming in cash these days! There were also some private pictures and videos in there, some with sentimental value that I haven't made back up copies of! That's what I get for thinking with my dick! i swear if I see that good for nothing asshole on the streets I would run her over! If I bump into her anytime in the future I would completely beat her up! I know times are hard and some people would resort to stealing when the opportunity arises---- but I gave her my trust! I hate it when people betray my trust!If she just told me she needed the money and if she gave me a valid reason I would have given her more out of pity! But how could I give these poor people pity when they betray the trust that we give them! I hope to see her again in the near future so that I could STRANGLE her! Fuckin' bitch! Good for nothing filthy whore!!!!! >:O


*****

If there's one good thing that came out of this---- I would think thrice before picking up some random slut in the streets again. And hey, if I really have to nitpick and look for something positive that came out of this situation--- I've managed to get rid of the crappy phone I was complaining about a few weeks ago.

Slackers

We've all known quite a few of them. Everywhere we go, they are present. Back in school, they're the parasites who copied your homework, who looked at your answers during examinations. They're not the ones who do it once or twice out of desperation. They're the ones who do so regularly, because they believe that exerting even a little effort is a waste of precious energy. Why do things the hard way, when there's an easier way? They don't mind moving forward at the expense of others.

I once thought such behavior stayed in schools... because people who lived through life that way have no place in a professional setting--- they would get left behind. When I was in residency, there were people who hardly exerted any effort, they don't do their work properly. Some get caught and get reprimanded. Some, however go unnoticed because they know who's strings to pull, their sweet words cover up their numerous shortcomings. Our superiors think they're doing a good job, when in truth they're doing a horrible job. I'm not saying I'm doing a perfect job... weariness and fatigue has caught up with me dozens of times. I too am guilty of several "disappearing acts" because I got too tired and i could hardly function properly. But some people make up certain excuses when in truth they're just taking a break for no valid reason, out having fun while their co workers are left with the tasks they've left behind. I've grown to hate such people who only think of themselves. As if the words "sorry" and "it won't happen again" would always work. People get numb to those words when said in habitual succession. As if saying sweet nothings and giving treats could make people forget. Their effects are also diminished when done habitually. I hate continuously covering for their asses. If they fucked up once or twice, it's fine. Exposing them wouldn't do much good. you'd be labeled as jealous, insecure, bitter... if they do such a good job of covering their shortcomings, you could even be labeled a liar.

You'd expect that as people mature, their work ethics would become better. Some people, however find it difficult to change. Such behavior has become completely entwined with their personality and total worth as a person. They're destined to be scums for life.

Just last week our schedule was thrown in disarray. Two people just suddenly backed out of work, even when they agreed to the schedule for the month of March. All of a sudden, we were two men short. That means we had to go on more duties. It's fine since we earn more money, but what if we already had plans for those days? The other guy even decided to go on a sudden vacation without warning. How unprofessional is that?! If they were planning on something, shouldn't they have said something when we were making our schedule last month to avoid sudden conflicts? If they thought the work was too much, shouldn't they at least finish the work they've agreed upon and just opt out next month, since we haven't set our April schedule yet? if they thought they didn't like the work, they never should have agreed in the first place. Never mind if they found it hard to say NO to the consultant who hired us. They should have told the truth that they didn't like to work there in the first place. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. And they still have the gall to smile, acting like chums, not even apologizing indirectly, as if they've caused no trouble at all. Can't they take a hint? Could they really be that dense?!

I guess I already know the answer. Sure they are dense. They may notice the hints we're giving, but they couldn't possibly care less.

A person would have to be really numb to keep on living his life as a slacker.

Sweet Escape

Earlier this evening, we were having a family dinner, and upon arriving at the venue I was surprised to see several guests... that's right. Friends of my dad. Invited in what was supposed to be an intimate family dinner. The whole scenario seemed so scripted, like everyone was forcing words out of their mouths just to keep the conversation going. I looked at my mom and she obviously felt uncomfortable. She smiles occasionally to acknowledge certain statements, but those smiles seemed really forced. I was even more uncomfortable, because a lot of time was spent talking about me! My career, my recent decision to resign, my goals in life. Christ, it's as if I was being interviewed for a job. All of my answers were so sanitized and forced. I had to behave properly in front of these strangers. And it turns out one of them was talking to the people in PGH so that I can go back. What really pissed me off was that I was being FORCED to say THANK YOU for what he was doing. THANK YOU FOR WHAT?! I have to say "THANK YOU sir, for doing something that I didn't want you to be doing in the first place"? How STUPID IS THAT?! I really wanted to scream. I felt as if i was going to explode if I didn't let it all out.

As if the evening wasn't perfect enough, our car had a flat tire. Because my brother was late for the dinner, he brought his own car. He brought my mother, grandmother, and my sister home. That left me to help my dad fix the flat tire. Great. Just great. More opportunities for bonding. Again he tried to make a conversation, a little small talk. What else would he ask? What does he know about me, except for the fact that I'm a doctor now? naturally, he kept on asking a lot of health questions, which further irritated me because I really don't feel like talking about medical stuff. I never really like medical stuff, i think of it as simply work, something technical, just a job, a chore... not something I would derive pleasure of. It's not something I want to talk about in my spare time, and especially not while we're on a dark parking lot fixing a stupid tire. And did he really expect me to be in a "sharing" mood, after what I went through during our dinner? Or is he dense enough not to realize that? Dis he think I liked being grilled like that? He clearly doesn't know me, and even though he tries with small talk every day, it's too late to start building an ideal father-son relationship this late in the game. The ride home was even more fun. The silence was so thick, you couldn't cut it with an ordinary knife.

What a fucked up evening. I had to find some sort of outlet to release all this tension building up inside.

I drink a lot of alcohol. Once I start, I keep on craving the stuff until I'm drunk or until I run out of money... whichever comes first. But I never saw myself as an alcoholic, even during those times that I went home drunk almost everyday... because I drink with friends. Just social drinking. And as I'm typing this entry, I have a bottle of whisky beside me, one fourth empty, three fourths to go. It's convenient when you have a mini bar at home... and even more convenient when it becomes a stock pile of wine, brandy, whisky, and other kinds of alcohol that were given as gifts. No one would notice if a few bottles went missing.

I find it hard to resist. How can I, when I like the feeling I get when I get tipsy, and eventually drunk? I feel like a whole new person. A few drinks then I'm able to reveal what I keep inside. I get the courage to say the things I'm too embarrassed to talk about, I learn to say the things that I want to share without fretting over whatever consequences. Yeah, I sometimes have violent tendencies when drunk, or overly flirty depending on the people I'm with... and I've done a lot of stupid things when drunk. But I can't help but embrace the feeling of being free... as opposed to the shackled feeling i get almost every day. I feel free to control my own life, as opposed to the feeling that someone's always controlling my every move. Bitter nectar, sweet poison, providing that sweet escape. Problems are washed away, anger, depression, and pain are forgotten. I get to escape to a world where I can do the things I want, albeit temporarily.

A dose of sweet nectar every now and then... that's all I need to lift me up from the dumps. Without it, I might be drowning in a wave of depression by now. Without it, I might bring myself back to the time when doing something drastic seemed like a tempting option. I just might...

good thing I get to escape from time to time.

Stuck in Limbo

"u know what? I just noticed something in your pictures..your smile, it's perfect... but your eyes, they look gloomy, as if you're sad about something... "

That's the exact message I got from a friend who has been viewing the pictures on my MySpace profile. Christ, is it that evident already? Has it reach the point wherein i can no longer hide the loneliness i feel inside, that friends that I haven't seen in a long time can tell I'm lonely even when I keep a smiling face? Even if they're just seeing me in pictures, people can tell if I'm lonely? Was it just coincidence, or do my eyes really betray me by showing others how I'm really feeling?

I've been down in the dumps these days. Yes i am lonely... because I feel empty... because I feel lost.... there's something missing in my life, and I can't figure out what it is exactly.... I feel like I'm going nowhere.

I had everything mapped out a few weeks ago. I was planning to apply for residency at this certain hospital. Then my dad, in his usual bullying, imposing way, put an end to that. He said it wasn't feasible. That hospital was too far. I said "so what?", i don't intend to go home often anyway. I guess that did it. He had this desire to keep all his children close to home. That's why he wants my brother to get a job in the city immediately. That's why he frowns whenever my sister talks about living abroad in the future--- her boyfriend is an American Citizen after all. And that's why he now thinks it's a bad idea to take up residency abroad. According to him, all the great doctors took up residency here, and just took fellowship abroad as an adjunct to their training. Typical. Behaving like Mr. Know it all, even when it comes to topics that I know more than him. I'm in the medical profession, I know where great training is. His doctor friends took up residency eons ago, they have no idea how training is these days.

Anyway, he gave a a sermon, about how stubborn I am, how I'm still young that's why I'm not seeing the big picture, and that he's only doing what's best for me, yadda yadda yadda, all that shit. I knew if I tried to reason out, he's going to drop the bomb. It was imminent. He had the same look years ago, when I said I think I don't want to go through med school. Practically the same shit--- I wasn't seeing the big picture, He had to decide what's best for me... there's are limited options for a B.S. Biology graduate, unless I go to med school. he practically ordered me to go to med school or else... he said something like where are you going to get your allowance, you have no job, blah blah blah. I was practically blackmailed years ago, and I'm feeling the same now.

For Christ's sake, he wants mo to go back to PGH! how f*cked up is that?! Apparently, about three weeks ago he talked with one of his consultant friends, who convinced him that I made the wrong decision, PGH is the best training institution and I should go back immediately. Just like that. And to think seven weeks ago, the very day that I decided to quit, he fully supported my decision. And just like that,a complete turnaround. He was convinced that not eating, not sleeping, shelling out for patients--- the very things that shocked him when I first told my family about my experiences--- was normal. Those things were part of the training. He was fully convinced because it came from the mouth of a highly respected consultant. That certain consultant even asked to meet with me, which I thought was okay since he was a family friend. Imagine my surprise when that consultant turned into a monster. He practically shouted at me, the way those mean consultants shouted at their residents. He called me a spoiled brat, a wimp, a coward, plus a whole lot more expletives. He said I should go back to PGH and be a man. He said I should kneel before my seniors and beg them to have me back if that's what it takes.

I know a part of me wants to go back... but a part of me doesn't either. Add the fact that I've been gone for more than 7 weeks now, it would really be embarrassing to go back! My batchmates would think I'm being given special treatment. My seniors would treat me differently, probably with caution. I don't want special treatment, I want to be part of the crowd. I hate being put in the spotlight.

He has connections at all the right places, I've got to hand it to him. One of the reasons why I chose PGH was because I knew he had no friends there. But these days he has ties to the government, which of course controls all government hospitals. Last week he spoke to the hospital director and to the head of the department of surgery. And they told him no problem--- probably some bribery or blackmail went through... but the end result was "no problem"... they just need to speak to a few people, and then I'll receive a call if I can go back to my previous job.

Now I'm stuck in limbo. i can't submit the application forms I have filled out for other hospitals...it would look bad in my record if i applied and then backed out at the last minute. All this waiting is getting on my nerves. I wish they'd inform me today, as soon as possible, if i have to go back or not. A simple yes or no, so I can make my next move. Maybe if I received a definite NO, I can proceed with my plans. Then again, maybe he'll move heaven and earth again, with his connections, to find a way to force me back in.

I feel empty, i feel like there's something missing, I feel like I'm going nowhere...I feel shackled, chained, trapped... because until now, i can't do what I want to do with my life....

... and I can't seem to do anything about it. I'm aware of my limitations, and i don't seem to have a choice but to follow.

Filter

I know I've once said that I've learned to ignore rumors about me. It's partly true--- I've become immune to the lies concocted by losers who have nothing better to do. It's just that sometimes, I can't help but feel affected, especially when close friends --- those people who should know the real you, actually believe those lies.

I'm not sure how I'm feeling right now. Hurt... angry... sad... disappointed... betrayed. Whatever this feeling is, it definitely feels bad.

There's this dirty faggot who kept spreading rumors about me a few years ago. I mentioned that in an entry sometime last year. He kept telling people that I was his boyfriend--- wishful thinking on his part, probably to boost his ego also. The fact that some people believe his fantasies to be true probably made him think that his delusions were within reach. His stories were very detailed. What we did in bed, how I pursued him, how I allegedly tried to win him back when we broke up... plus a whole lot of other sick fantasies that i try not to remember hearing. As proof, he showed his cellphone's inbox, wherein all messages came from me. He often sent messages, usually asking questions about the simplest things, and I always politely replied. How was I to know he would delete text messages from others to create the impression that I kept on sending text messages and actively pursuing him. I really can't blame those people who believed him. They don't know me personally, and if I heard a person telling stories with a lot of very minute details, i would probably believe him. I just find it hard to believe that people would actually think that I could be with a relationship with that fag! In the unlikely event that I would have a relationship with a person of the same sex, I would most likely choose someone who's not that UGLY. I'm not being egotistic here, but Christ, I could do so much better! Isn't it obvious?!

I thought that was resolved three years ago. The day I found out, I confronted the asshole. I wanted to beat him up badly. I was so angry that day, I would've probably killed him if my friends weren't there to stop me. I mean, for more than three years he has been spreading those lies and I had no idea! All the while I was being friendly even though I knew he was gay. I have gay friends so I didn't see why I can't be friends with this person. To make a long story short, my friends calmed me down, and some of them talked to him. They convinced him to apologize to me, and he told his friends who were present there that the stuff he was telling them all those years were all fabricated. I never forgave him. How could I? All the damage that he has caused can't be undone, unless he makes an announcement in front of all the medical students. The worst part was he was my group mate during clerkship, so I was forced to work for one whole year with the person I hated the most.

All that's in the past, and I forgot about the whole thing. I'm in a different environment now, and I haven't seen that asshole since graduation. Then I heard that one of my close friends still believes his lies. Maybe she's not one of my close friends after all--- I just thought she was. She was aware of how pissed I was back then, I told her the whole story before she became friends with that faggot. Apparently they became close during internship because they were group mates and they even shared an apartment. Most likely, that faggot told those stories to her during their internship, a year after HE apologized to me! I thought it was all over! I want to shut him up permanently! But what makes it worse this time is the fact that one of my friends believes him, and that makes me a liar. I don't care if she's closer to him now, I don't even care if that fag is now her best friend! She knows my side of the story--- SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH! And then now she's saying that she doesn't think that that faggot would lie to her! because they're so close now, he can't possibly lie to her! WOW! I just can't believe this! So now I'm the one who's making up stories! I'm the one who's fuckin' delusional! I'm the LIAR!

Crap, isn't she aware that that person is a chronic liar? He has lied about a lot of things, he even lied about his family! It's probably karma when he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer--- why couldn't he have died from that disease so that I would me spared from all this misery? Then again, he can't possibly die from that condition since he probably made that up also. it's okay if they're really close now, she can choose who to be friends with. I just hate the fact that just because she's closer to him, she would believe all the lies he's saying even though I told her before that all those things were untrue. She doesn't have to disregard my side of the story just because we're not a close as we were before.

One good thing came out of this though... Like an effective filter that separates dirt from the grain, another one of my so called friends have been filtered.

Thanks to instances like this, I get to know who my true friends are.

Holier Than Thou

There he goes again.

I've only begun going to church again for the past 2 Sundays. I know, i don't really like going to Church--- what's the use of attending a ceremony when I don't fully believe in the Catholic Faith. But even if I wanted to I simply didn't have time. On most Sundays during the past seven months I'm on duty at the hospital. And when I can go home on Sundays, all the churches are already closed.

I remember that one of the reason's why I grew tired of going to church was our parish priest--- the epitome of a corrupt, selfish man, using religion as an excuse for his motives. Last Sunday, he was at it again. Sometime during the past month, he ordered the whole altar to be torn down--- even if there was nothing wrong with it. It was only two years old, definitely far from decay. I even found it too beautiful--- grand... extravagant even, with it's shiny gold decor and various shiny ornaments. Man criticized him. What the heck was wrong with the previous altar?! And now he's asking all the parishioners for more money to build a new one? His excuse, which made up the most part of his homily, was so fuckin' flimsy, I would've raised my my hands and thrown expletives t him out of sheer disgust, if only my ultra conservative grandparents weren't around. He said it's his "mission" to keep on beautifying the altar. It's true, the previous altar, which HE DESIGNED (notice the self promotion there), was already beautiful. But he believed he can make it more beautiful for the Lord. Hence, the previous altar was torn down to make a new one. What a ton of Hogwash. What a load of Bullshit! It's so obvious the he probably profits from all the renovations he's doing, doing negotiations in secret with all those contractors. That's why there are always renovations going on in the church. It never tops. And just when there's nothing left to fix, let's just tear down something and replace it with a better looking one! Woo hoo! I wonder if the Lord approves such garish displays of wastefulness. Does he really want us to keep on beautifying the church to honor him, when the money can be put to better use--- say, buying food and clothing for the less fortunate parishioners around the area?!

Geez, and he keeps wondering why lesser and lesser people have been hearing mass at HIS church. Others have simply transferred to other churches, while some choose not to attend at all. They've been turned off by the selfishness and greed that are so rampant with the so called leaders of the Catholic church. And they have the nerve to point our every sins, and give sermons like we are on the verge of becoming outcasts. Christ, what hypocrites.

the self righteous and the hypocrite

Now I remember one reason why applied for residency in surgery in PGH even though I was aware of how unphysiologic the work can get.

I wanted to keep some distance from my family.

I hope I'm not sounding ungrateful here, but when I'm with them everyday, I feel shackled. Strangled, even. Maybe it's caring too much, when my grandmother gets so nervous when I'm out with friends and I'm not home by 12 midnight, or when she gets so agitated as I cross the street--- EVEN AT MY CURRENT AGE. OR when they need to remind me of things that I already know, of things that I'm aware that I'm supposed to do and I'm just taking my time, or when then bug me about things that they think they know better. geez. That's the same reason why I wanted to take the USMLE as soon as i graduated years ago---if I remain in this country, I'll forever feel shackled.

If there's one good change that happened in me during the last seven months, it's that I learned to miss my family. I actually longed for their company. I looked forward to those weekends when I can go home early because that's when I get to spend some time with them, usually over dinner. With my schedule, I never got to see them on weekdays because by the time I get home, almost everyone is asleep, and I usually leave when everyone is still asleep. When i go home during weekdays, I usually stay at home for 4 hours maximum, which isn't really going home at all. I chereished every moment, because for the past few months, it didn't feel like i was in chains. Maybe because for the past few months, I was receiving just the right amount of family care and attention, or maybe even less than the minimum amount.

Now all that longing and craving are gone.

What's with all the fuss with this bruise that they saw on my shoulders. Jumping to conclusions as to how I got it, that I was in a fight, applying unorthordox external medications... crap, I'm no four year old who can't care for a simple bruise. Wht's with my grandmother just sitting in my room just watching me... or is it staring... then occasionally patting my head, runnnig her fingers through my hair... and what's with the persistent voices that keep on telling me to eat and eat so that I could gain back all the weight I lost, what's with all the food being shoved at my side of the dining table.... man, can't I eat when I want to eat? can't I decide what I wan't to eat? And the self proclaimed head of the family, possibly one of the biggerst hypocrites I know, keep on pestering me with his sermons and so called sound advice, and showing how he's so pissed when Im not paying much attention--- on how I should decide what I want to do immediately, I can't take too much time off, I should submit the proper resignation papers now, on how I can't be unemployed for too long.... all this coming from a man who has been umemployed almost all my life.

Talk about hypocrisy.

Or maybe it's sound advice coming from a man who has more experience, not wanting his son to commit the same mistakes?

Yeah right. I'm willing to bet it's simply the former. He's right about one thing though. I really have to get a new job ASAP, if only to get away from it all, to release myself from the shackles. God knows I don't need any more motivation. Just thinking that I might become just like Mr. Hypocrite here is incentive enough.

My Fickle Mind

First of all, tell me... has anyone seen a person as ugly as the one pictured above? It won't matter much if he at least had a good soul, but his attitude is just as bad as his looks. Plus he stinks like hell, even if he just took a bath.

It's the second day since I've gone AWOL (Absence Without Official Leave). I've not doing much. I'm not outside partying, I'm just staying in my room most of the time. i've heard that fatso has been spreading the news that he WAS the one who made me quit, and he's so happy while he's telling the news, as if being responsible for making someone quit his job is something to be proud of. What a BIG, FAT, prick. He must think I quit because I'm afraid of him. hah! nothing could be further from the truth. I kept rejecting his calls yesterday morning.He then sent a message that I should have a good reason for dropping his calls. lol. if i was afraid of his big fat stinky ass, I wouldn't have dared drop his calls. Truth is, I wanted to answer his calls and tell him what i thought of him... but then it would take me days just enumerating his faults. Actually, I decided to quit just out keep out of trouble. At this state, any confrontation with him would lead to shouting expletives at each other, most probably even exchanging punches. That would've made great news--- a first year who exchanged punches with his senior. I'm no rebel... I respect most of my seniors, and it's okay from them to shout at me. I know they have valid reasons for being pissed. But this fatso--- it would've been okay for him to go on power tripping like that, making everyone feel how he's so superior to everyone else, if he was REALLY SUPERIOR. He sucks as a senior. Always late, sleeps all the time, and the other seniors keep covering his BIG FAT ASS. How great it would be to squeal on him. And we all know how lousy he was as a first year resident.

I didn't quit because it was toxic. I've been through so much worse. And I don't mind having truckloads of work dumped on me. I'm used to obey seniors, i can be submissive, and I respect authority. There are very few times when I feel the need to stand up and defend my rights, and at those instances, i feel that I'm the one who's right. There's a difference when seniors tell you to do stuff because those are things that really need to be done... in the case of fatso here, who's so power hungry, he throws orders in such a way that would make him feel so powerful, and us juniors feel like shit.

Even when it was incredibly toxic when I was rotating in trauma, i didn't really mind the workload because I had such supportive seniors. When I talk to them, I feel like I'm talking to actual human beings. In contrast, even if there's minimal workload, it feels as if you have a huge burden to carry if your seniors are ass wipes. I'd be content not seeing that ugly face for the rest of my life.

I didn't quit because I'm afraid of anyone. if I don't speak up when I'm being scolded, that simply means I respect that person. If I have no respect fro him or her, then I'm trying very hard not to answer back. I'm not afraid of anyone.

It was my sane mind that made me reach this decision. If I stayed, it was inevitable that there'd be a commotion. A confrontation cannot be avoided, not at this late stage.

But after 2 days away from it all, it seems that I actually miss having 0-2 hours of sleep a day...

I miss not taking a bath, not brushing my teeth... I'm not used to being clean anymore!

I miss shelling out for patients, because I'm helping our less fortunate brothers and sisters after all...

I miss the adrenaline rush i get whenever there are emergency cases...

I miss the hospital, with its limited supplies, its 8 elevators--- 6 of which are currently non functioning, so there's a delay in bringing those emergency cases to the operating room...


I miss the smile I get from my patients, even if I'm just passing by... I miss those thank yous I get even if I think I haven't helped them at all...

I miss my co- first year residents, who's schedules have surely become more hectic because the work allotted for me has been dumped on them... damn this stupid conscience!

I miss their company because in a span of a few months, I've found some real friends in them...

I guess I miss having something to do, something to keep my mind off things...

And now i'm thinking of going back.


Christ.


i must be out of my mind.

The Same Sordid Ordeal

During my pre-residency training, one first year resident told me that the hardest thing about being a first year resident isn't the inhuman work load, it not even the unphysiologic schedule... it's pretending you're afraid when you have nothing to be afraid of. i didn't understand what he was talking about then, but i understand it now. I've just had about it with some of my senior residents. It's funny how everytime I do my "walk out", they think it's because I'm afraid to face my seniors because of something I've done or failed to do. yeesh. I walk out to keep my cool-- to keep myself from shouting back at those assholes. I'm tired of pretending to be afraid of people who have nothing to be proud of. It's hard to pretend you're afraid of those people, or even pretend you respect them when you know deep inside that the image they project, or at least the image they try to project, is all for show. In reality, they're nothing but losers.



Take this big, fat, stinky, balding ogre who tries to projects himself as a senior resident. It's common knowledge that he was such a lousy resident when he was in first year. With the way he treats us, with the way he points out our mistakes, you'd think he won the Mr. Perfect Resident Award. He keeps on shouting and making uncalled for comments--- he's trying to be the Terror resident that all juniors are afraid of. Yeesh. What wishful thinking. and As if the terror approach still works these days. Why do that approach when you can get the same results by talking to your juniors in a civilized manner? For me at least,I perform better when it's the nice seniors who ask me to do errands. When they get mad, my conscience keeps on bothering me. I mean, these are good people, how can I have the heart not to perform well for them? And when those "terror" residents get mad? i couldn't care less. I wish they'd have a heart attack with all that anger that they release when i fuck up. Who cares if they shout at me? What they say goes out my other ear anyway. And there's a wicked pleasure when they get pissed off when I mess things up. Most of the time, I do it on purpose. I mean, If I can't shout expletives at them outright, the best way to get revenge is to do it discreetly... fuck things up so that they'll get so pissed. And when i foul things up, the consultants don't get mad at me anyway--- they get mad at those seniors. Sweet! That fat bastard seems to be noticing my game plan though. He asked several seniors and they all say I perform well. He then wondered why I always seem to foul things up when he's the one asking me to do errands. I guess he'll have to be such a dumb ass not to figure it out eventually. Treat me with respect, then I'll give you respect. Treat me like shit then I'll treat you like shit. Seniority doesn't give anyone the authority to treat others like they're not people. That fat bastard would never be the terror resident he's trying to be. poor bastard. TO instill fear in your subordinates, you have to have some form of authority. To have authority, you have to have something that they'll want to emulate, you have to be someone worth idolizing. FAT, BALDING, STINKY, LAZY. Nope, there's nothing I'll want to emulate there. To have authority, at least you have to gain respect of your juniors. I'll say it again... FAT, BALDING, STINKY, LAZY. nope, there's nothing to respect there either.

Several days ago, I wanted to shout back at him, then quit afterwards. Again, he shouted at me through the phone--- because the case that he was supposed to operate on got deferred. I mean, why shout at me? The patient's hemoglobin was 50, waaaaay below the normal level, and she had ongoing blood loss. Would any sane person want to go ahead and operate such a high risk person? I told him I asked our team captain if i can bring the next patient up and bring that patient down instead until she was stable.The asshole said it's HIS case, why do I keep on saying our team captain's name. D'oh. Hey fatso, you're not team captain yet, you have less authority! stupid!!!! wait til next year when you become team captain! then he said he waited all night for that case to be brought up to the operating room. LIAR! I know for a fact that he went home then fell asleep like an elephant, that's why he wasn't answering his phone when i was trying to call him! He then said I never called him. Often he tells me to throw away my phone when I fail to answer his calls (I say i didn't hear the phone ring... truth is,I do it on purpose. haha.). I would have loved to say that back at him. I'll never throw away my phone though... it might be more than two years old, but it still looks more expensive than his whole damned life.

so.. what stopped me from quitting that time? the thought that such a loser would make me quit would make me seem like a bigger loser. I should have a valid reason. This career isn't worth sacrificing just so one fat ogre would get the last laugh. I can't let him cherish the thought that he made a resident quit. Such losers in life don't deserve such honor. They don't deserve to feel like winners even for one single moment in this lifetime.

Alternatives

On one duty night, one senior resident told me to prepare needs for biopsy and have everything ready by 10 PM. It was just past 8 PM then,so I prescribed the needs, figured I'd eat dinner then return before 10 PM to see if the needs were complete. It was 9:50 PM and I was checking the needs and asking the nurse to prepare a room for biopsy. The my cellular phone rang, it was the senior resident asking if everything was ready. I told him I was checking if the patient's needs were complete. He shouted expletives, saying I should've checked earlier... even if it wasn't 10 PM yet.

sheesh...

the next night, this same resident was supposed to operate on a certain patient, but several trauma patients came in, so our patient's operation kept bumping back. I heard from another senior resident that he decided to go home, and that he will operate on the patient instead of him. I managed to bring the patient up by 3 AM, then I informed the resident that the patient was already at the operating room. A few minute later, my cellular phone rang. It was the first resident shouting expletives at me, asking why I didn't inform him that his patient was already at the operating room, then he hanged up the phone. What the fuck was that all about?! HIS PATIENT?! I've had it. It's okay for people to shout expletives at me as long as I've done something wrong... but to curse me just like that?! I was just about to call him back and shout expletives right back at him when a batchmate of mine tried so hard to help me control my temper. I've just about had it with these power trippers, these people who think they're so superior when in truth they're not... I've almost had it with these mother f*cking assh*les.

I've been thinking of other options... what I could do instead, if ever I decide to quit... because it seems inevitable. Maybe surgery training in a private hospital would be better... there would be less patients, which isn't necessarily a bad thing... i'd get more rest. plus I'd actually save my earnings since i won't be using my salary to buy my patient's needs. Also, does more patients really mean more learning? I think there's a learning curve... initially, more patients would mean more learning. But there's the point where the curve goes down, when you get overworked, when the load is too much, that learning becomes non existent... Recently, i'm also thinking if surgery is indeed my calling. these days, I silently groan averytime I'd have to go inside to operating room. These days, I would rather sleep instead. If i really want to be a surgeon, i should light up everytime i get to go inside the operating room no matter how stressed i am, right?

There's this program offered by the Department of Health wherein they send a physician to some province where there's no physician available. In some ways, it's scary... yet somehow, It does seem attractive. First, the salary is huge--- a great incentive for work, despite the catch that you'll be working as the sole physician at some remote province. Besides the salary, i find the peaceful and quiet surroundings tempting. I doubt if i'll get lonely. During our community rotation in internship, i enjoyed living in the province, no matter how crude everything was at first... nothing beats the simple life. I want to get away from it all, I could leave all my troubles in the city, albeit temporarily. I've lived a life full of noise, clouded with troubles--- living some place else would be a welcome escape. It would be great if I would be sent to some island. Put me anywhere near the ocean and I'll be happy. Put me anywhere where I can sit back and relax and simply think about life and I'll be content. Everytime I see the ocean with the warm ocean breeze caressing my face, fine sand beneath my feet... I am happy. Genuinely happy. Unlike now, when i am no longer happy with what I'm doing.

As days go by, the alternative seems to be becoming the better, wiser choice.

I could be happy, or remain drenched in misery.

The choice seems obvious, yet I'm still caught in a dilemma.

On the Verge

Yesterday, I was quite sure my next blog entry would be entitled "The day I decided to Quit", or "Events leading to my decision to quit"... something to that effect. Yesterday, I was nearing the boiling point. Somehow, I cooled off and I've held on. I just don't know until when.

Nothing major happened. It's just that the little things piled up. I've been on duty for 5 straight days, and in each of those days, something went wrong. Day 1 was especially toxic, I never got to sit down all day. During the wee hours of the morning when everything was done, I decided to sleep for an hour before doing my morning rounds. I decided to sleep because I felt that I needed to. Predictably, I overslept. I didn't have time to dress all the wounds of our patients, so I just dressed the patients with really dirty wounds. When my senior asked me if I've dressed all the patients, I said yes because he would surely scold me again if I told the truth... and my excuse--- oversleeping, was really flimsy. It's not just flimsy, it's downright unacceptable. I didn't anticipate him asking every patient if I dressed their wounds... and since patients don't lie when it comes to their own health, my lies were exposed. i know it was entirely my fault... If I didn't oversleep... if I just did my responsibilities, it wouldn't have happened. I felt bad because I screwed up such a simple task as doing morning rounds.

Then saturday came... it was a weekend. There's few elective operations scheduled, it was relatively benign. Then just before twelve midnight, the senior resident called me asking about the professional fee of one of our consultants. Not just any consultant--- the most feared consultant in the hospital, so I understand why my senior was so agitated. Since I was on duty at the private wards that day, he told me I was the one who's supposed to collect the professional fee. I told him there was no professional fee because the patient told me that the consultant told him it was okay to defer paying the professional fee. They would just pay on their follow up check up. I confirmed this with the nurse on duty because I know the patient could be lying. The nurse said there was such an agreement, so I just told them to pay the professional fee of the anesthesiologist, then they could go home. I was dumbfounded when the senior resident told me there was no such agreement. I was to blame because I believed in hearsay. He told me I should've confirmed it with him first. And I was supposed to know that when it comes to that certain consultant, I shouldn't act on anything without informing and seeking permission from my seniors. So it was CLEARLY MY FAULT. and as for what really happened? The consultant was doing his rounds in the afternoon with one of my co-residents, and he did say it was okay for the patient to defer paying his professional fee. The nurse on duty heard him say that. But the very minute he went out of the patient's room, he told my co resident to not let that patient go home until they pay the professional fee. What a jerk. Isn't being true to your patients part of a physician's code of ethics? And I even thought he was a nice guy after all when I heard the patient say that he was willing to defer the professional fee.

The next day, thoughts were clouding my head. I couldn't seem to carry out orders properly as a result. Plus the fact that i haven't eaten anything, I haven't slept... I felt like walking zombie. In the operating room, my senior was asking for sutures that I haven't got... no one seemed to have such sutures in stock because such sutures were very rarely used. So the only option was to buy patient's needs... as usual. i really don't understand why they have to demand for specific needs when they are aware that such needs aren't provided by the hospital for the patient. I don't understand why we can't just make do with what we have. Naturally, my senior was shouting at me the whole time.

Yesterday, one senior asked me to follow up the operation schedule, then our team captain said i should just stay at the out patient department and don't go anywhere else. Since he's the more senior resident, I did what he told me. After a few hours, the other resident got mad because I didn't do what I was told. One procedure was already over and I wasn't aware of it. I hate it when those seniors keep on ordering you to do 2 things at the same time, as if i can split into 2 people when needed. Screw them.

Last night, I felt like my system was shutting down. In the evening I refused to answer any of their calls, which were surely more errands to do, or simply more scoldings. I just needed about an hour to get away from it all. i was just sitting at some semi-secluded place in the hospital. I needed a break. even a short break from them will do. Funny how they were all so nice when I finally did show up.I guess the thought of more work for them that would result if I did quit scared them.

Now I'm still ambivalent. The balance almost tipped to one side, for now status quo has remained. A big factor is my family. They keep questioning my work. if they don't tell me to quit directly, they are implying it. I rarely get to sleep, It's hard to find time to eat, I'm not able to take baths when I'm at the hospital... and I keep shelling out for patient's needs to the point that my salary is almost depleted. No food, no sleep, and no money. Where's the incentive there? It's like I'm some sort of masochist relishing the thought of torturing myself. I'm the eldest child in the family, and still I can't be independent. How could I when I still have to depend on allowance from my parents because my salary is virtually non existent? It's confusing enough when I entertain such thoughts myself, but when your own family shares the same thoughts, it seems enough to tip the scale to one side. From my perspective at this very moment, what I'm doing seems pointless. If I just didn't care about my batchmates, who'll be in perpetual duty if I quit since there's just enough first year residents per service, it would've been easier to make a decision.

Almost Burned Out

We've just shifted rotations last sunday. What happened on the succeeding days was one disaster after another. To say that maladaptation was to blame would be putting in lightly. I was completely lost. Sure, things don't need to be done immediately since every case isn't an emergency like it was during my Trauma rotation... but the workload is increased a tenfold. At the end of each duty, I failed to carry out a lot of orders. I didn't have time to do chart rounds. I couldn't even squeeze in an hour's worth of sleep! Referrals kept coming in, and even though they're not emergencies, the sheer volume of referrals kept me awake all night! And i felt so alone and helpless while carrying out orders, because the interns in this rotation are practically non existent. just this morning, I jumbled up the schedule operations, and the seniors were all pissed. I wasn't familiar with the whole process, but I know that's no excuse.

I'm almost burned out. Dead tired. More than ever, I'm wondering if this is all worth it. During our rounds yesterday, I was so sleepy and It was fucking humid inside the hospital, i couldn't pay attention during the endorsements. With the heat,I kept thinking that this time of year, I'm just bumming around in a beach somewhere. During the past years, this time of year meant relaxation, a time to get away from it all. This year, I don't have time to get away from everything, unless I quit. Most of my friends have work schedules that are not so unphysiologic, and talking with them doesn't help matters--- especially if the best advice they could give is for me to quit. They say I look like a mess. When I looked at myself in a mirror a few days ago, I realized that my life is a mess. The last time I went home, I just had time to take a shower before going back to the hospital. Before I left, my grandmother wanted to talk to me. It looked like she wanted to have a serious and lengthy conversation, I just told her I didn't have time. As I turned away, she asked if I'm happy with what I'm doing. Though I said yes, I knew she could see the truth. It wouldn't take a genius to realize I'm not happy with what I'm doing. Any person with functional eyes can see that I'm not happy. If only my service mates wouldn't be affected if I quit, if quitting wouldn't fuck up their schedules and make their lives more miserable, I would've quit weeks ago. I don't know if this is what I really want. I couldn't see myself like this in the future. My future seems to be a big blur, I couldn't see a clear picture. This very minute, only one thing is certain...

I'd rather be lying under the sun,

lying on powdery white sand,

watching clouds move slowly in the clear blue sky

with a mild cool breeze caressing my face,

the waves splashing a mist of cool saltwater on my body---

instead I'm trapped trapped in this oven... this hell hole... this slave house that I refer to as my place of work. What a way to spend my summer.

What a way to spend my life.

Worst Birthday Ever

Last week, I've had the worst birthday ever. It must be dumb luck, but I've never spent my birthday while on duty at the hospital. And with my current schedule of being on duty on for three straight days then having one day off, it's a miracle that my birthday fell on the day I can go home. For several years now, I don't really see the reason why I should celebrate my birthday. There's the obligatory lunch or dinner with close friends, something I do look forward to, especially if friends that I seldom see are expected to come... but beyond that, there's really nothing extraordinary about birthdays. Like Christmas, the magic has long gone. Birthdays seem so special when I was little.

Anyway, I was really glad when I found out that I can go home on my birthday. I didn't want to celebrate as usual... I just wanted to rest. Rest would be the best birthday gift that i could receive, just one day away from all the toxic work in the hospital. And the last three days prior to my birthday was incredibly tiring. From the emergency room, to the operating room, to the wards--- i was completely worn out. To add insult to injury, besides having to deal with all the work, my senior residents kept scolding and nagging me, almost non stop. i really needed a break! i had to recharge! but guess what? that didn't happen. There's this annoying senior resident that I really despise. She's only on her third year in residency training, yet she feels as if she's one hell of a surgeon already. She always points out our mistakes as if she's so perfect, that motor mouth of hers running non stop. In truth, she's not that good in surgery. Female surgeons are mostly bitchy, probably to compensate for their lack of balls, to create the impression that they can live in a world dominated by men (the department of surgery)... but this resident is extraordinarily bitchy and annoying, I'd always try to control myself from mutilating that darned mouth. First thing in the morning that mouth started running again, about me not being able to do this and that, about me being slow, blah blah blah. And she eve threatened me that I won't be able to go home because I wasn't able to do certain things. That really pissed me off. She does not have the authority to keep me from going home. I was looking forward to going home for days! And It was my birthday for Christ's sake! I told her to watch me go home later. The look on her face was priceless.

Then I had to assist in a long operation. I missed lunch. By the time I got out of the operating room, it was already 6 PM and I still had a lot to do in the wards. So much for being able to go home early. Maybe I would have received better treatment if i told them it was my birthday? I doubt it. I'm sure I'd still be given the same amount of work, and I have to treat these people with lunch or dinner, some of them I'm not even close to. Some of them i really hate, that I cringe at the thought of spending my hard earned money for them.

managed to go home by 9 PM. I thought I'd invite a few people, though I doubted if anyone would show up because it was such a last minute invite, and a lot of my friends' houses are far from mine. No hard feelings if they don't show up... A few did show up, and I really appreciated their efforts. did manage to smile genuinely. My birthday this year is my wost birthday ever, but it wasn't all gloom, thanks to my friends. They've managed to keep me sane. All I needed was to talk to normal people to shake me back into reality.

My Last Routine Christmas

For several years now, I just view Christmas as any ordinary day. The magic is long gone. Gone are the times when I anticipated this day, back when I thought the magic was real. As children, it is a day of joy--- the day when Santa Clause drops by to give us what we ask for, a day when relatives give us lots of presents, a day when everyone is basking in the joys of celebration. As we grow up, as we learn what's real and what's make believe, part of the Christmas spirit has gone along with the illusions and fantasies. The same things kept happening every year, and those traditions have become tiresome. There's nothing new to look forward to. As adults, we're also left with the burdens of planning festivities, buying Christmas presents, allocating our funds so that we will not exceed our budgets--- all those responsibilities that we didn't care about when we were kids. Aside from becoming routine, Christmas has also become some sort of a burden.

Most probably, Christmas 2006 would be the last year I'd spend Christmas at home--- at least until 2011. For the next five years, there's a good chance I'll be spending Christmas with nurses, patients, and fellow residents. No problem though. That would be a welcome change. And since Christmas has become just another day for me, it will be like spending any other day on duty at the hospital. But after doing some thinking, i guess I'd miss Christmas dinner with my family. And I'd miss seeing my relatives during the yearly family reunions. Five years from now, my siblings and cousins may have husbands and wives already. Older relatives may no longer be around. The old status quo may be changed drastically into a form I'm no longer familiar with. So I told myself I have to enjoy this Christmas. I should cherish every moment, because it could be the last time I get to experience the Christmas that I know.

The routine started, and almost immediately I was succumbing to boredom. We usually start our traditions with our grandmother giving money to less fortunate children, but the amount has been the same being for more than 10 years now... maybe 15 years. She only gives 20 bucks to each kid, with the exception of that one year when she nearly died of a heart attack--- that year she gave 50 bucks. I'm not talking 20 dollars here, so that isn't much. 20 bucks is approximately 40 American cents. What exactly can you buy with that amount? candies? cigarettes? a few biscuits? We've told her that if she really wants to help, then increase the amount she's giving, or just give the whole bulk of it to some charitable institution. But she's really stubborn... and stringy. Maybe she really loves the attention she gets when people are falling in line as she gives them money. I mean, during our new year's day family reunion, she throws money in the air and keeps on laughing at the way the kids and even some adults scramble and push each other to get some of the money she's throwing at them. I guess we can't really blame her... at home, we don't really talk to her that much. It's only natural for her to crave all that attention. Anyway, the tradition began, and I can't help but feel embarrassed at the small amount being given. But these are hard times I guess, for they were really thankful even for such a small amount. I'd imagine they would jump for joy if they were given an amount that they could buy a decent meal with. I wanted to leave then, but what really made me get back inside the house was my dad shouting at the street children, telling then to behave, or else he's going to beat them all up. Christ. I couldn't stand it anymore. I was thankful I wouldn't be a part of it for the next 5 years. Doing hospital work, no matter how tiring, seemed better than this--- farce. I may have not slept nor taken a bath for days, I may be starving, but at least if I'm spending Christmas at the hospital, I'm actually helping others with what I'm doing.

Next was the routine Christmas dinner. I tried hard to be happy and bask in the joys of the season, but my efforts seem futile. The only highlight of the Christmas dinner was when that Christmas song by Alvin and the Chipmunks played on the stereo. We all laughed at that high pitched voice, which was unexpected because the Christmas songs that have been playing previously were those slow songs that seem to transport you back in the 60's... or 50's. I smiled genuinely when I heard those chipmunks singing. I have forgotten all about that song. I remembered how I loved that song as a child. I was transported back to a time when I was truly happy during Christmas time.

Next we opened our presents. Years ago that was the moment I looked forward to. In recent years, it has become the moment when I tried very hard to make the most genuine looking fake smile I can muster. I got an expensive gift this year... a micro theater system. I'm really thankful, and I know how expensive it is... but I won't be able to make use of it for the next five years. I certainly can't bring all those speakers to the hospital.. or did they think i could? If they didn't know what I want--- or what i can actually USE, they could've just asked me. I don't really care about the thrill of surprises, so it wouldn't hurt just to ask me. For practical purposes, i could use a new digital camera for taking pictures of patients and specimens needed for all those case presentations that I'll be doing. What I want? I'd like to have a good FM transmitter for my ipod, because the cheap one I got wasn't very good at transmitting--- stupid me for expecting much from such an inexpensive gadget. I guess my friends know me more... they give gifts I can really use. T-shirts, boxers, novels and books that i read... one of my friends even gave me an ipod speaker this year!... it's something I wanted to buy, but I didn't have enough money for such an expensive gadget. Christ, it's f*cking expensive, I was kinda ashamed I can't give him a gift of equal value. It was something I wanted but didn't really expect to get. At that instant, I could've given my friend a really big kiss if he was only female. lol. After opening our presents, we proceeded to visit our relatives on the maternal side of the family.

Usual stuff again, though I found it funny that my aunts and uncles still give me money at my age, because they know I'm still unemployed. lol. My maternal grandmother is also amusing... she's so forgetful--- this started a few years back, though no one had her checked yet... I mean, it could be Alzheimer's. She couldn't remember the names of her grandchildren, except for my one cousin who lives with her. She asks for solo pictures every year as a Christmas present, with our names written in bold letters at the back, so she won't forget us. We keep giving her pictures every year, but she probably misplaced them. hehe. My sister did a mean albeit funny thing some time ago, when our grandmother saw her favorite cake and asked for some. After eating, my sister asks her if she wants a slice of her favorite cake, and she said yes. She probably had 5 slices of the cake before she asked everyone, wondering why she feels so full when she hasn't eaten anything yet. This year, I sat with her for a while, and she's telling me all these things about getting married already, taking care of kids, all random stuff. After a few minutes, she forgets who I am again. It's all funny, and everyone was laughing, though I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Deep inside, there's this sad thought that she might not be around five years from now... She's more than 85 years old after all. i might not have a chance to sit down and talk with her again.

After some time, I went drinking with my cousins. We don't usually go drinking with them because our killjoy father is with us, but since it would be a long time until i see these people again, I thought... what the heck. It was great talking with them... I haven't talked to some of them for years now. It was great to reconnect. I had 10 bottles of beer, but I didn't get drunk. Must be getting more tolerant again... or maybe because I was so full, the alcohol can't get past my stomach and into my system. lol. It's a pity they didn't see my renditions of my videoke repertoire. I only go crazy with videoke when I'm drunk. lol. I guess that's one high point. Heck, just give me a bottle of alcohol, and that would be the high point of any of my days. What spoiled everything was my father. The rest of my family went home earlier, while me and my brother stayed behind. He kept calling us, probably to tell us to go home. We just chose to ignore our cellular phones. For Pete's sake, we are already adults! At our age he already had four kids! and everyone else were adults! He refers to my cousins as irresponsible when they have stable jobs, unlike him! He calls them drunkards, though he's aware that I drink more than some of them! He calls them bad influences... heck, i'm probably a far worse influence to some of my friends. We went home at around 7 AM. I fell asleep as soon as we got home because the alcohol was finally kicking in. When I woke up in the afternoon, I found out our father even sent a text message to my aunt, telling her to stop the drinking session! WTF?! Is he crazy? He's thinking he's God again, telling my aunt to stop the party. He even said he's going to scold my cousins. Geez, they're not his kids! what gives him a right to scold them?! And they're all adults already, not kids! And I don't see why he's making such a big fuss. When I go out drinking, I usually get home when the sun is already up. And isn't it safer last night because we were in a relative's house, and not drinking at some bar outside? Often he gives gives such faulty reasoning, saying things without logic--- there's definitely something wrong with him. Just when I was starting to have fun during Christmas, he ruins everything again. Next year, when I'm on duty in the hospital, without sleep, without food, with a very heavy work load, I just have to avoid entertaining happy memories during Christmas time. I instead, all I have to do is think about our tiresome traditions and my father's antics. That would be comforting enough. That's enough to make me thankful for spending Christmas in a place far away from home.

I might regret saying that this time next year... but there's a good chance that I won't.