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.

Wrong Impression

I felt really bad yesterday. I can't help but feel bad whenever someone sees me as a person I'm not. And I hate it when people judge you based on their first impressions, and when they remember you for that single time you fucked up, and completely disregard all the good that you've done.

More than a month ago, i made that fatal mistake of dozing off while assisting in a consultant's operation. I couldn't help it. I knew that falling asleep would be something I'd regret, knowing that he's one of the consultants that everyone seemed to be afraid of... but when you've had no sleep for days, there's no way you'd fail to succumb to sleep the very moment you stay still, just holding several retractors when we play the role of the second assistant, with no grossly active participation.He sent me out of the room. Two days ago I wanted to redeem myself, and I failed again. I succumbed to sleep, and I almost lost my balance. Good thing he didn't send me out of the operating room that time. Yesterday, I was made a promise to myself that i would do good. I would stay awake and alert no matter what. I never thought that the time when I finally stayed awake would turn out to be a worse experience compared to the previous ones.

He kept on accusing me of dozing off even though I was wide awake. I wondered why... Out of curiosity, to test a theory--- I took a picture of myself with my head bent, and what do you know... my eyes really seemed close even if they were open! Hey, I can't help it if I had longer than normal eyelashes! Made me wish I just slept again, since there seemed to be no difference between staying awake and sleeping--- he's still think I was sleeping. What really pissed me off was the never ending jabs and comments about my personality. Those words really hurt. When the anesthesiologist asked me why I chose to take up surgery in residency, I told him I found surgery interesting. Then this big oaf of a consultant shouted "interesting? who would believe you find surgery interesting when you keep on falling asleep?!" He does have a point there. It really seems ironic to fall asleep when you're doing something you find interesting. Then just because I was hesitant in moving the retractors he said he's sure I was one of those pampered rich brats, who have servants to attend to their every need, that's' why I don't know how to assist or serve other people. And he's so sure I'm one of those, he said e can recognize those types of people, being a consultant for so long. I guess being a consultant for ages has rotted his way of thinking. How can being hesitant in assisting mean I'm a spoiled brat?! I'm hesitant because I'm afraid he may not approve of where I place those retractors! And I find it really insulting because I'm not one of those people, even if I can be one if I chose to! My father, my siblings--- they kept on asking our helpers in the house to do errands for them, even ask them to do simple and trivial things. As long as I can do things on my own, i do it. I don't ask for any one's help unless I really need to. I'm not that type of person, that's why it pisses me off when I hear people thinking I am what. Based on what? On my appearance? Can anyone be more narrow minded?! Then he kept mocking me, calling me your majesty, your highness and such. He then made a comment, its a shame only rich kids apply for residency in PGH these days, now PGH is full of brats who don't know how to serve. Give me a break. Just because someone isn't poor that doesn't mean he can't serve nor does that mean he has no compassion. Besides, with all the money we spend for patient's needs, no poor doctor can afford to take up residency in PGH!

But what really got me into a pensive mood was his final jab. He asked me why I didn't answer the anesthesiologist immediately when he asked me what it is in surgery do I find interesting. I told him I was thinking of a good answer. He said if I have to think of a good answer, then he seriously doubts that I find surgery interesting. if I don't find it interesting, what was I still doing here? If I'm just pretending to like what I'm doing, then I'd better quit early on.

He does have a point. What am I still doing here? Life would be so much sweeter if I quit. There are better things that I could be doing. I could be spending a better life out there. I might be better off doing something else. There are a lot of other opportunities knocking at my door. I can do something I really love to do... I can still serve others while having compassion for myself at the same time. I can be doing something that's not as depressing, something that doesn't drag me down as much. Something not as tiring--- but still fulfilling.

The day I've grown weary of death

When one works in a huge government hospital such as PGH, you'd get used to see people dying everyday. Two years ago, when I was still a medical clerk--- that was when I witnessed a patient dying for the first time. I watched as the resuscitation team tried to revive him, but after 20 minutes, resuscitative measures were stopped since the patient remained flatlined. The feeling was hard to describe--- it was an odd mixture of excitement, curiosity, fear, anxiety, pity, and sadness. I did not know the patient personally, nor did I know the relatives, so that feeling of sadness was short lived. Still, the moment was unforgettable. It's like being a spectator, watching God's work in this theater we call life. As much as the joy I've felt upon witnessing for the first time a baby being born, upon witnessing a human being begin his life--- I felt as much sadness as I see through my own eyes how a person's life is taken away from him.

In the hospital where I spent most duties during clerkship (we rotated at several hospitals then), we didn't have as much patients as PGH--- maybe there's less than 1/3. That's not necessarily a bad thing. We got to learn more about our patients, we had more time to study about their cases, and because there are fewer of them, we got to know them better--- so much, in fact that i still keep in touch with some of them, and I considered them as my friends. A patient even told me once that she considered me part of their family.

With the degree of closeness that I had with my patients and their families, you could imagine the sadness that I felt when I first witnessed a patient of mine dying. It's like having a family member pass away. You feel your world crumbling. You're willing to do anything to prevent that from happening. I was one with the family's sorrow. As clerks, we used to kid around that we didn't want the patients assigned to us to die because we didn't want to make a death protocol, which was very tiresome to make since it is a legal document. But deep inside, we knew it was more than that. We didn't want to lose someone whom we considered as part of our family.

As with anything you experience too often, the excitement I first felt when I was part of the team reviving a patient began to wane. Resuscitative measures became just work--- emergent and vital, but it was still work. It is a part of our job, with the excitement slowly disappearing. The sadness remained, however, each time we failed. Sadness for the patients and their families, and also sadness because we can't help but feel like failures, even though we knew that we did everything that we could do.

Upon internship, the excitement and feeling of urgency of resuscitation was almost gone. We didn't just have patients dying everyday---- we had MULTIPLE patients dying everyday. DEATH became tiresome, so ordinary, so boring. Resuscitation became tedious, but we all knew we still had to do it properly, it was part of our job description to save lives after all. But as I look at my co-interns and residents, as well as the nurses, it was evident that they were feeling the same was that I was feeling. Reviving a patient seemed to be a generic job, not similar to writing charts, inserting IV lines, doing blood extractions. It seemed like just an ordinary job that we have to do. Gone is the excitement I used to see in everyone whenever a patient is said to have "coded", wherein the room comes alive, bursting with tension and enthusiasm, when every single person in the room becomes very animated. After resuscitative measures are done, whether successfully or unsuccessfully, everyone goes back to what they were previously doing, as if nothing happened.

The loneliness I used to feel whenever a patient of mine dies seemed to have vanished also. Since we were given so many patients at a given time, I rarely have time to get to know my patients and their families. Sure there are rare occasions when patients are admitted for a very long time so I eventually get to know them. But most of the time, because of so many things to do, I just do the orders. By the time we get things done, it's already time to go home. There's rarely time for bonding with patients. When my patients die, I no longer feel sad--- the very same way one doesn't really feel sad when a stranger dies. One may feel some fleeting pity, or one may be shocked, but he won't be that affected, as opposed to having a family member or a close friend die.

In a way, that's a good thing. It's common knowledge that doctors shouldn't get too attached to their patients, else it could jeopardize their work, especially with the way they deal with their other patients. Still, if we don't get to form a bond with our patients, the humane part of being a doctor disappears. It would seem like we are tinkering with machines, and not with people. After treating a patient, successfully or unsuccessfully, we just move on to the next patient to get our day job done. Being humane is an integral part of a service oriented profession. Without it, it would be erroneous to call ourselves good doctors.

Before internship ended, I got to know two of my patients very well, including their families. I guess it's because they were admitted at the wards the whole time i was assigned there, unlike my other patients who were admitted only for a few days. During my last week of internship, I looked forward to seeing those patients and their families, because it was as if I was visiting a family member or a good friend whenever I talk to them. I guess that shows that we can still be humane even in the most toxic situations. I'll be going to PGH later this week to fix some papers (clearance, etc.). Before i go home, I have to see those ex-patients of mine to see how they're doing. Maybe chat with them for a little while. It won't feel like work... it's like seeing an old friend, and like coming home to family after all.