Of Dogs and Men

People seem to assume that I like dogs. That’s not exactly true. Yeah, my username on different websites usually has the word dog attached to my name… but that’s just something a few of my friends called me in high school--- and it stuck. Because dogs are always horny, that's their explanation. I wasn’t really a horndog back then, but you know how high school life is. Once people start branding you with something, it’s gonna stick no matter how far it is from the truth.

Now back to our canine friends. I’m not really fond of dogs. I don’t hate them either. You can say I’m indifferent, but when they start becoming overly playful they become incredibly annoying… especially if I’m not in the mood. Yeah there are times when I like playing with dogs, especially when I’m incredibly bored. But after a few minutes I’ll grow tired of the game. Then they become annoying as again... sometimes they get too annoying, that i have to keep myself from kicking the hell out of them.

It’s not just dogs. I’m not very fond of pets in general. It wasn’t always like this. I remember when I was around 5 or 6, me and my siblings used to collect hamsters. At the peak of our hamster hoarding phase, I think they reached about 30 in number. We couldn’t keep track of all of them, and it wasn’t unusual to find a dead hamster tucked beneath some furniture on any given day. I didn’t really care for them. I viewed them as some sort of commodity, and I never developed any form of attachments to those creatures. When one died, we just bought another one. I guess the only time I got attached to a pet was when I was about 9 years old. Each of us had a rabbit, and I frequently played with mine. But one day we made the mistake of leaving them outside during a storm, and by the time we checked on them they were all dead. When I saw my rabbit, I cried so hard. I was the only one who cried, and I got so embarrassed, yet I couldn’t stop. I kept crying until the next day. I even made a makeshift coffin and grave for my rabbit, it even had a makeshift tombstone. The next week our grandpa bought new rabbits for each of us, but it just wasn’t the same. I never grew fond of my new rabbit. She just wasn’t as affectionate. I left her outside on most days, and after a few months i didn't even bother to see it at all. After two years when I was told that it had died I just shrugged m shoulders. I just didn’t care at all.

We always had dogs inside our house. Even the big and burly ones, we kept them inside our house. My sister is very fond of dogs. When one died, she’s gonna ask for a new one. At first she preferred those toy dogs, but as she grew older, she began to prefer those big dogs… and I found them more annoying. They slobber twice as much, they make more of a mess, and they stink the hell out of our house, especially when it gets really warm.

Around that time when I had that rabbit, my mom had a dog named Max. Our neighbors were so afraid of that dog. He was big, and any time he saw a stranger, he was ready to attack. I wasn’t really fond of him, because he was big and stinky, and he loved to slobber all over me especially during the mornings when I’m about to go to school so I’d have to clean myself up all over again. But all that changed after one incident. I don’t remember the reason, but my dad was so angry at me that time that he was about to beat the hell out of me. He pushed me once and I fell on the floor, and just when he was about to hit me, along came Max. He barked so loud and was about to bite my dad on his hand. My dad managed to pull his hand away just in time, then Max chased him to his room where he locked himself in. I never saw my dad run so fast. I was crying so hard that time, yet I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of my dad acting like such a big pussy. After a few minutes of barking and growling at the locked door, Max came back to me and he licked my tears as I hugged him tight. How could I not possibly love that dog. It’s impossible not to feel affection for a dog who’s so loyal. He was on my side, and that meant a lot to me. On that fateful day when someone forgot to close our front door and Max got out, I knew just how sad my mom was feeling back then. For about two weeks, my mom kept preparing his food, just in case he came back on his own. She knew that was next to impossible, yet she kept hoping. I heard her crying for so many nights, and I knew exactly how she felt. That feeling of loss was so great because Max wasn’t just an ordinary dog. To her and to me, that dog was part of the family. In fact, I felt closer to Max than some people in our family.

When I came home a few months back, I was surprised to find a new addition to our kennel--- My brother bought a beagle. Great. Another dog. In addition to the mixed breed we keep outside, and to that huge german sheperd that kept on shedding its fur inside our house. It was kept inside a small cage, so I figured it’s not really going to bother me. But everytime they let it out, it would try to hijack one of my shoes, and it pees and shits all over the house--- so many times in a span of a few minutes, I often wonder where all that shit and pee were coming from. But no matter how annoying that dog is, what annoys me more is my brother. He bought that dog, yet I never saw him take it outside except on Saturdays. During weekdays, after coming home from work, he basically ignores it. On Saturdays after spending an hour or two with it, he’s gonna go someplace else and he’s just gonna leave it in the house for everyone else to take care of it. And now he’s out of the country, guess who’s taking care of his dog. It’s been more than half a year since he bought it and that dog should be potty trained by now, yet it isn’t because no one’s training it. If you buy a dog, then it’s your responsibility. Jesus, he’s not a child who could just buy a dog due to impulse, and expect others to do the real work for him. If you can’t handle the added responsibility, then don’t buy a pet for Christ’s sake. That’s why I don’t buy pets. I just can’t deal with the added responsibility of caring for another living thing. I have enough things to worry about at this point in my life, and I don’t have the patience to deal with the idiosyncrasies of any specific pet. I guess that also explains why i'm content being alone most of the time. I don't want to deal with the excess baggage, i want to be free from any complications that any sort of interaction might bring. On my free time I would prefer to just sit back without worrying about anything at all. I’m not someone who’d buy a pet just for company. And I’m not someone who could easily pass the burden to someone else the minute I find out I just can’t handle it.

Early this morning, after I had my breakfast, I saw it staring at me from its cage. Normally I wouldn’t even let it bother me, but it just looked so sad and lonely. If you’re kept inside that small cage all day, who wouldn’t be. When my sister is here she would let it out and play with it, then clean up the mess afterwards, but it’s been a week since she’s been here so the poor thing has been kept inside its cage all week. I must have been incredibly bored this morning because I let the dog out, got her leash, and took her for a walk. For real. She peed at least twice, but it didn’t matter since we were outside. And for some reason, I didn’t get to see any poop. When i was walking her, she wasn't forcing me to go anywhere i didn't want to go. If I didn't know any better, i would've thought that she was trying to be in her best behavior, because I know for a fact that she's not like that at all. Everyone describes her as being a huge pain in the ass. I carried her and she didn't make a fuss. I let her sit on my lap and she didn't make a big fuss. In fact, she just remained still. She seemed perfectly content as I was. The whole scenario just felt so weird and alien to me. Maybe being kept inside that cage for so long affected her behavior somewhat. Or maybe her doggie sense told her that I'm not that type of person who was willing to play games with her. I'm not the type of person she can mess with. Maybe it was just perfect timing, and maybe the exact scenario may never happen again, but it felt so odd and so good at the same time. That was when i thought that this could work. Something like this can actually work. Like the way we interact with other people, sometimes it's all about the right place, the right time, the right circumstance... even one small alteration in any of those parameters can spell the difference between animosity and harmony. I guess everything was just right on that Friday morning. I guess there's a chance that i can form some sort of attachment with a pet after all. Up until I took that dog for a walk, I've always thought it was impossible. No matter how much I try to deny it, there are times that i find myself letting my wall down. This wall has kept me from being hurt and it has kept me free from additional emotional baggage, but every once in a while, it feels good to let the wall down. No man could thrive in complete isolation after all.

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.

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.

Denouement

In just a few hours, I'll be leaving for my first day of duty as a surgery resident. I may not be able to post something in this blog for a very long time... it depends on how huge my work load is. I may just prefer to sleep every time I get to go home, and do nothing else :) In just a few hours, the year 2006 will be over, along with the life that i have known. What better way to end my first year of blogging, than to post some sort of denouement, a resolution of some sort... I've had a lot of posts that seemed to be like a cliffhanger episode of some TV show after all, waiting for a proper resolution. hehe.

Back in June, I had a post entitled "No Doctor in the House". My grandmother had a case of herpes zoster then--- commonly known as "shingles". Funny how I failed to recognize it then, when the appearance was "textbook presentation". Maybe because my mind was elsewhere, I had just woken up from sleep... i guess it's also hard to recognize a disease that you haven't seen in real life, no matter how much you've read about it. It's funny how I've seen a lot of weird cases in the hospital, yet I've never seen a case of shingles. Yeah we all make mistakes, but failing to recognize something so simple... it doesn't help increase my faith in myself, at least when it comes to being a doctor.

What about my lengthy post about my ex? I'm over her. I'm not preoccupied with thoughts of strangling her anymore... though i still get pissed when anyone mentions her name. Or when I see pictures of her... but most of the time i can manage to keep a straight face. No one seems to see that I'm getting pissed deep inside. Oh yeah, if there's one consolation, her new boyfriend is ugly as hell. Hey, I'm not some vain guy who thinks he's better looking than most people, and I seldom call people ugly because I think that term is very offensive, so when I say someone is ugly, either i'm mad at that person, or that person is really really really ugly. I can't help but laugh at her desperation--- a lot of guys seem to want to pursue her, guys who look so much better! Yet she's so desperate she picks the first guy who comes along, probably because she can't live without a relationship... or she wants to settle down ASAP. Or she wants some rich guy to finally bring her out of her disguised poverty. How pathetic can a person get.

I'm still not in good terms with my dad.. though everything seems okay at this time... at least better. He's in one of his high times--- those times when he's got a load of cash. Where he got money this time I didn't bother to ask. And he's making a lot of effort to become close, starting conversations, asking about my life and shit... I still feel distant though, his efforts doesn't seem to be working. A classic case of too little, too late... not that I care anyway. Whether we're close or not, i don't care. Somehow, I'm already numb, apathetic to everything about him.

And what about the job that I'm about to start doing in a matter of hours? I've had a lot of posts regarding my apprehensions, my doubts in this profession I'm in... I'm still apprehensive. I'm thinking, what the heck am I getting myself into? Most of the time, I can't help but feel out of place... that I might be better off doing something else... that I can make a difference elsewhere... I feel inadequate, knowing that I'm not one of the best in my field... and the work hours! I'll be lucky if I get to sleep for an hour a day, i'll be lucky if I get to take a bath once a week! Many of my friends have said that I must be crazy, knowing that there are other options out there--- the schedule isn't so inhuman in other hospitals... and knowing how half hearted I am in this profession, choosing to take up surgery residency in PGH must be proof enough that I'm on my way to the looney bin! In a few hours, I'll be really working... I won't be a student anymore, I won't have anyone who's always watching my back. It's not practice anymore, this time it's the real thing. There are a lot more responsiblities, I'll be responsible for people's lives for Christ's sake... I hope I can still make a difference even if I really am out of place.... or at least, I hope I don't f*ck up... A person's life is at stake for every action that i make. I can't risk making gambles when the consequences are far too great.

They say the first year of surgery residency is the hardest... the most inhuman... but once it's over, it just seems like a blur, it's over too fast, you'd hardly remember it. I hope I don't lose hope, I don't lose my will power... 2007 will be a year to forget, I hope I have the strength to hold on. This time next year, I hope I'll be one fulfilled doctor, gleefully anticipating the year 2008, thr year when a huge burden will be taken off my shoulders.

Along with the year 2006...

This is one dysfunctional doctor, signing off. :)

Adulthood Delayed

It seems that the secret for eternal youth is to keep on studying. It may not hinder one's physical growth--- the added stress can even hasten the wear and tear --- but it surely keeps you feeling young. Even at my age, i feel lost in the ways of the real world. And instead of acting my age, at times I act like people who are 5 years younger than I am.

As I look at my peers, especially those I've known since high school and college, I can see the difference. Most of them started working 5 years ago, when I entered med school. You can say they had a head start in the real world. They've been employed for several years now. Many of them are already married with kids. They already receive salaries that I can only dream of. They also act mature and more responsible.. while i act like some teenager, with few responsibilities, someone who can afford to party all night, wasting my days doing practically nothing. I can see the way some of those old friends look at me. They might think I'm immature. The truth is, i really feel young. How can I not feel young? up to now, I still depend on my parents for almost everything because I still have no source of income. I'm currently a bum, doing nothing of worth. I'm feeling the way they felt 5 years ago. It's as if my growth was delayed for 5 years... you might say that 5 years was taken away from me, as if someone pushed the pause button, and it is only now that my life is playing again. My life as a student has been extended. and although I'll already have a salary come January, residency and fellowship training, which is how I would spend the next 8-10 years, is practically a continuation of my studies. Sometimes I wonder if I've made the right decision, seeing the life my old friends are living now. It will be years before I'll be in their position. They say it's a mixed bag--- there are a lot of sweet stuff, but there are hefty responsibilities that come with the good stuff. They say i have the better life. I see their point. I can act like a fool without hurting others. I can do many things that adults can only be nostalgic about. Sometimes though, I wonder if my life really is better. Sometimes i feel as if I'm going nowhere, as if that pause button still remains pressed...

sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in some sort of limbo.