No Refuge

So I just submitted my "re-application" to the place where I used to work... and almost immediately it felt like one of the worst decisions I've made in my life. Do I not remember where I was and how I felt back then? And does any sane person who has already resigned actually apply for the same job in the same company after a certain amount of time?! I am so pathetic. Not that it was actually my own decision. My dad has been pressuring me for months, and I figured that this was the only logical way to finally put an end to it. And of course some of my friends from where I used to work kept on saying that it would be the right thing to do--- and if there's one thing about me, I find it hard to say no to my close friends. And when they keep on pestering me to do something, I would most probably give in even if I do not really want to. A few of my friends know this idiosyncrasy of mine... it's a good thing they seldom exploit it. One of them even accompanied me as I submitted the application form--- to make sure I don't back out. I was already there, and I did not want to linger any longer. So I filled out the form as fast as I could, and said to myself to hell with it. Within a few hours, the news started to spread slowly.

Among the early comments:

If he really wants to work here, Why did he quit in the first place?

If he wanted to come back, why did it take this long to decide?

I bet he was just forced by his father.

He's not a child anymore! Until now his decisions are based on what his father wants!?

If I had my way I'm going to give him a very hard time.

I'm going to endorse him, so that his seniors will give him a hard time.

He needs to prove that this is what he really wants.

He needs to work 10 times harder.

I'll always remind him that he was a quitter.

Great. The next five to six years would probably feel like five hundred. I have to swallow my pride and I have to deal with all the shame... plus the added pressure of knowing that a number of people do not want me back there. If I really decide to come back, it would be a decision that I should stick with. Quitting for the second time is not an option. Either I don't go on with it, or stick with it if I do.


*****

Last night I went out with friends from where I used to work. Of course my "re-application" was brought up, and I just had to express my doubts, which they dismissed outright. I can't really get unbiased advice from them, who are incredibly loyal and proud of the training they get from that place. Several words of comfort, which weren't even a bit comforting, for me at least. It's just an application form, i could still choose not to go on with it if I decide not to.

On the way home, we passed by a flooded area. The water level seemed to be rising, so I decided to make a turn at a side street, which was also flooded, but the water level wasn't that high. Soon we were on dry streets again, when my friend said that water seemed to have seeped inside the car. I turned on the light and we saw that the flooring was soaked. Bummer. A few minutes after, a policeman stopped us saying that the car made weird noises as it was running. I checked underneath and there was this sheet of plastic that was loose. It was probably scraping against the road as we were moving. When I got home, I got some rags and tried dry the floor. I even used that hair dryer i bought a few weeks back--- see, it wasn't such a waste of money after all. LOL. But the flooring was so soaked, I decided to just let it dry on its own, with a little help from the impending sunlight. I just have bring the car to the repair shop in the morning, to check that loose plastic sheet underneath.

After a few hours, another rude awakening. Something about me being so stupid, so careless, so spoiled.... something about never driving a car through flood water which was common sense, something about how I should learn to love my car, something about me not giving value to things, yadda yadda yadda. Christ, it wasn't as if I deliberately drove through flood water. It wasn't as if I wanted to drive through flood water just for the heck of it. And I wonder why he's so concerned about the damn car as if he was actually the one who purchased it... why he acts as if he could take the car away in an instant as if the money used to buy it came from his own pockets. Instead of answering back, I just chose to ignore the voices, pretended to sleep, thinking happy, tranquil thoughts.

One good thing that would happen if I really decide to go back to where I used to work? I'll be able to get away from all the voices, from all the anger, from all the pressure--- from all of this. It's funny, a year ago I thought I missed all this, I actually longed for all this. Drowning in occupational misery is so much better than feeling miserable in the place where you're supposed to get away from it all. It's such a sad life when seeking refuge means choosing the lesser of two evils. It's so sad that I can't even seek refuge in the only place that I could call home.

Fall Previews

Woo-hoo! The new season of my favorite TV Show--- Prison Break-- is about to start! But WTF?! Sarah is alive?! Didn't Lincoln see her head inside that box?! Or was he stupid enough to mistake someone else's head for Sarah's? And didn't LJ specifically say that he saw Sarah beheaded right in front of him? Does that mean that he's as stupid as his father? I wonder how they could pull off Sarah's return. This isn't sci-fi, they should make her return plausible enough.



On the other hand, another season of Heroes--- which used to be my favorite TV show, will also begin airing in about a month. Can the series redeem itself after the horrible second season, which was so bad it practically made me forget that Heroes used to be a great show? Based from the trailer below--- which seems to be bordering on the campy side... I'd say not very likely.

Soul Searching

Being pissed, almost reaching the breaking point--- and then remission.

Being pissed, almost reaching the breaking point--- and then remission.

Being pissed, almost reaching the breaking point--- and then remission.

Like a broken record that plays the same tune again and again, that seems to be the recurring cycle in my life. When I woke up I thought this was going to be another day when nothing significant would happen. No utter joy, but no misery either--- you may say an extended phase of remission. Then one of my grandmother's medical problems rears its ugly head again, and then the father gives me that look of disgust, explicitly accusing me of not caring at all--- even more so when I left the house when everything seemed okay, just to have some time off, just to get away from it all. I didn't go drinking, I went to the gym to do something healthy and productive, and release all the tension I was feeling at the same time... a fact that he found so hard to believe probably because he saw that bottle of Johnnie Walker and that pack of Marlboro Reds on my bed. Hey, when placed under enormous pressure, I need to smoke, I need to drink. So sue me.

As I rode my car, I could see that look of disgust on his face. How could something so simple make me so pissed? At one point I wanted to crash my car on the nearest post, or make a sudden right or left as I was crossing the flyover... good thing running at 160 km/hr with rock music blasting from the stereo at full volume was enough to soothe my nerves. How could something so simple give me so much pressure? A little psycho analysis may be needed. A little soul searching. For one thing--- the possible root of it all... I don't want to be a doctor. I'm working as a doctor, yeah--- but I'm only doing this because I already am one. My educational background doesn't qualify me for alternative occupations, unless I do more studying... and it seems pretty stupid to waste all those years in med school by not working as a physician. Every day I feel forced to be doing something I don't really want to do, even though no one's forcing me to keep on doing my job. I hated everything they taught in med school, save for a few that I found remotely interesting. It was like turning me into something that I did not want to be. So i picked surgery for residency... because I really loathe internal medicine. Pediatrics is internal medicine for kids... I hate doing internal examinations in obstetrics-- the fact that women are at their worst during pregnancy further aggravates my ill feelings towards that field. Radiology is boring, so is pathology. At least all that blood in the surgical field keeps me on my toes, and i couldn't deny the emotional high I get when I do operations... I picked surgery by the process of elimination. But it's still a part of the field that I do not want to be in--- How far could that interest go? As I discovered, it couldn't go far enough.

Now every time I go HOME--- the place where i'm supposed to be able to get away from it all, to get away from anything medical... there's always that chance that I'm going to manage a medical case. Diabetes, Pneumonia, hypertension, a variety of cardiac and renal problems... all diseases that are within the bounds of internal medicine, the sub specialty that I HATE the most... and my grandmother has all those! It's not that I don't care, it's just that I feel like I'm being forced to be doing something I hate doing--- again and again and again! Add the fact that I'm not really good in that field! I didn't really pay attention in school because I hated the subject, and now everytime I go home I'm bombarded with questions in internal medicine, even pressured to do some action! And it's pretty stupid that my father is pressuring me to go back to the place where I used to work, and expect me to be available immediately every time my grandmother begins to experience more health problems--- WTF?! He knows that's impossible with the work schedule. In fact, family problems, even ones concerning health, are not valid excuses to miss work, unless that immediate family member is on the verge of dying, if not dead already! Whenever she has health problems, my father wants me to just stay with her because I'm the only doctor in the family. It doesn't matter if I have plans. It doesn't matter if I have work. Even when she's already stable, I still have to stay with her because of the possibility that those health problems could still recur! If I don't, then I'm ungrateful, I don't care at all. I'm all things rotten and evil in this world. It doesn't matter if I'm not skilled enough to handle her case. Since I'm a doctor, to them I should be skilled enough!

Are my reasons valid? Or do I already need to schedule an appointment with the friendly neighborhood psychiatrist because I've become highly irrational and unreasonable? I may not need a psychiatrist yet, but I sure could use a drink...

right about now.

Needful Thing

It's been almost a year since I left the place where I used to work. Looking at my pictures from last year, I would say that I look like a very different person now. And it's not just because I've gained some weight. Ever since some friends decided to give me a "makeover", just for the heck of it... I've become more conscious of the way I looked. Whereas before I didn't really care about what I wore, whether this or that piece of wardrobe looked good with that... whereas before I never felt the need to tinker with my conservative hairstyle and general appearance...

It all started with form fitting shirts.

then jeans that were no longer oversized.

I practically changed my whole wardrobe by first getting rid of all those stripes and XL sized clothes.

Then I bought new shoes.

I started browsing fashion websites that were catered to men.

I grew my hair longer.

And when it was long enough, I started getting my haircuts at a salon.

And now, this---

...


...


...


...


...

and no, that's not some futuristic laser gun, nor is it one of the latest models of air guns that would give anyone the advantage when playing war games.

It was really embarrassing when I tried to purchase that thing. The salesperson kept asking if it was for my girlfriend, my mother, or my wife. Just to shut him up I just said it's for my sister. He was explaining how this and that was different from the other, but his attempts at explaining the special features sounded Greek to me... so I just picked the least girly looking model that I could afford. For some reason, I felt that i just HAD TO buy a hairdryer. When I went to a spa earlier this week, there was one in the dressing room so I tried it just for the heck of it... and my hair DID look better when I used the hair dryer. I really liked its effect. REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKED IT. It was as if I was in some sort of trance, as if I had a brief episode of psychosis, that I thought that it was such a necessity, that I had to rush out and buy one the very next day. Crap! What the f*ck has gotten into me! Christ, I'm becoming----

MY BROTHER!

(yeah, the word metrosexual would probably be also fitting, but I refuse to refer to myself as that)

At least I haven't reached THAT level of vanity (or should I say insanity)... yet. I don't have a gazillion facial products on my dresser... nor do I feel the need to choose the right bath products that would be most appropriate for my skin type... and I doubt if i would ever feel the need to go to a salon every month just to THREAD my eyebrows (no wonder his eyebrows look so... artificial. LOL). I would never, ever feel the need to do that. The moment I feel the urge to do those things--- ESPECIALLY the last one... I might as well schedule an appointment with the friendly neighborhood psychiatrist.

Whys and Wherefores

I've just finished reading the last volume of Y: The Last Man. The series ended months ago, and I was really tempted to buy the last issue when it came out because I just HAD to see how it ends. I managed to control myself, thinking that since I started reading the series on paperback, the whole 10 volumes would simply look better in my bookshelf. How my bookshelf looks really matters. I'm weird like that.

The ending was perfect, there was no other way to end it. The feeling was bittersweet as I closed the tenth volume. Sure, the ending wasn't what you can call happy... at least not for everyone--- could a happy ending be possible given such a premise? But the bittersweet feeling transcends whatever it was I saw on paper. It was like saying goodbye to old friends. Even though I only picked up the first volume last November, it's as if I've known these characters, not simply fictionally, but also personally, for years. That's how good this series is, and it's something I'd definitely recommend to everyone.

Before the epilogue, Yorick Brown was my age. Then on the final issue, it was 60 years later. As I returned the volume to my bookshelf, I started thinking... What would my life be sixty years from now? Where would I be? What would I have accomplished? What would I look back on? Started school at the age of three, excelled during the first half of my academic years, living the life of a nerd, then growing tired of it all on the later half, but not to the extent of failing. Made one wrong decision as I chose which path to take in college, and with a series of unfortunate events, here i am now. I tried to stick with it two years ago, just go with the flow, I said. But like all paths that we are forced to take, even when the road lies on a field, to us it's always uphill. I've grown weary and I stopped walking. I took other directions with no compass or map, And I'm going nowhere. My peers are leaving this country in the truckloads because "a career in medicine doesn't have a bright future in this city"--- those who say otherwise are ignorant. If only it was easy for me to leave this country, but both sefish and unselfish reasons continue to hold me back. Most of my family and friends are here, I'm not sure if could thrive for long in a place where there's nobody familiar. It wouldn't be much of an issue if not for my stupid principles, of wanting to serve my countrymen, of wanting to reach out to those who could really use my help... my conscience would keep tugging on me if I turned my back on them. As I got home this evening, my father reminded me of the deadline for application for residency training. He couldn't seem to understand why I'm on a standstill. It's not just because of the shame of going back to the place that you've left, akin to eating the food you've just vomited--- although shame IS a big factor, I admit that. I wonder what's the use of residency training here when you'll be back to where you started afterward? Most of my co-workers at the hospital have already finished residency training, and yet we have the same designation, as if they've never undergone any training at all... because no patients were coming in when they tried starting a private practice, moonlighting again was the only option to earn money. How fucked up is that?! Fast forward 6 years. Let's say I did go back, and I stuck with my decision. What now? More training, fellowship this time. And after? Try to start my private practice, and with some luck it would take off. With some luck I'd be stable enough to start a family--- at the young age of almost 40. After all that training, just 20 short years of private practice, and with my family's medical history, I'm bound to inherit a few illnesses, which would definitely hasten the wear and tear. I'd be a senior citizen by the time my kids reach their 20's. I would've tried to be a good father, because I've made a vow to never be like mine. With dumb luck, there's a chance that they'd still care for me genuinely by then, and not treated like some excess baggage that they are forced to carry. A few more years of gradually increasing dependence, inching slowly towards uselessness and senility. And then... I'd look back.

That's the general plan. That's the blueprint. Too plain and too simple, lacking details and decorations... no bells and whistles, no experiences that I would love to look back on again and again, no memories to cherish for life, nothing to be proud of. But life is one big puzzle, things rarely transpire as the way we plan or imagine them to be...The universe has a way of making even the best plans go awry.

Sixty years from now, I wish I would have a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment as I look around at the place I'm in, as I look at the people I know. I wish i could look back on something that would make me feel glad, alive, proud... something that could make me feel young again... something that would make me thankful and happy to be alive--- that's something I would wish for, because as of now, there is nothing. I couldn't dream of anything more, because that's the closest one can have to a happy ending in real life... a sense of accomplishment and genuine contentment, with not much thought as to the whys and wherefores in this life.

The Third Mummy Movie

Even though both The Mummy and The Mummy Returns didn't get many favorable reviews from critics, I enjoyed watching both movies. They're popcorn flicks after all; people shouldn't expect something cerebral or deep. What matters is that they are fun to watch. I expected to have the same experience with the third movie as I sat on my seat inside the movie theater--- even if I knew beforehand that it was practically murdered by critics. After the first few minutes though, I began to realize that I might be wrong.

All jokes fell flat. Scenes that weren't meant to be funny were the ones that elicited laughter from the audience. Plot loopholes abound, many scenes defied logic and common sense. All the nifty special effects couldn't mask the tedium shown onscreen. By the time the Yetis (?!) showed up, I've already given up. I hoped that the final battle sequence could save the movie, but everything looked so fake, it was like watching a videogame demo. The only bright spot was the fight scene between Jet Li and Michelle Yeoh--- too bad it was way too short. And although casting changes are always distracting even if a better actor or actress was employed, it's never as distracting as the one in this film. Clearly, replacing Rachel Weisz with Maria Bello was a wrong decision--- but not as wrong as the decision to resurrect this franchise.

And what's with the ending?! They're actually thinking of doing a fourth movie?! Unless they could create a movie that's even half as enjoyable to watch as the first two, they should just keep this franchise buried for all eternity.

I should have just watched The Dark Knight again.

Who'll Be Watching The Watchmen?

Incidentally, here's the first trailer for Watchmen, which is being shown prior to the screenings of The Dark Knight. Watchmen is frequently referred to as the best graphic novel of all time. Heck, It's even included in Time Magazine's 100 best English-language novels from 1923 to the present... the only comic book included in that list! Plus, Zack Snyder ---the same guy who directed 300, directed the film! Certainly it won't be as good as the source material, but I'm pretty sure it's still going to be awesome.



Yup, it's already on my must see movies in 2009 list. :)

Movie Review: The Dark Knight

"Holy fuckin' shit, Batman. The Dark Knight really lived up to the hype!"

Man. I can count the number of times I've been this blown away after watching a movie with the fingers on one hand. The first time was when I saw American Beauty nine years ago. I felt the same way after watching Frailty, Memento, Batman Begins, and now--- The Dark Knight.

Fine... call me extremely BIASED. Because I'm such a huge Batman fanboy. Add the fact that I'm also a huge fan of Christopher Nolan. Alright, the film isn't perfect. The transition on some scenes doesn't flow so smoothly, and if you have short attention span you might find several scenes confusing, dull, or even boring. For action fans, the fight scenes aren't really that intense--- the camera is way too close for you to appreciate the action. For the ultra conservative, okay... the film may be too violent for a PG rated motion picture. For those with nyctophobia, yeah--- some scenes are way too dark. And for the ultra fanboys--- yeah, the movie isn't 100% faithful to the source material. But I never said the film was perfect. A movie doesn't have to be perfect for it to be considered excellent. A movie based on a comic book doesn't have to be 100% faithful to be considered spectacular. For once, a movie did live up to all that hype--- something I didn't expect since I was way too psyched to watch this film, my excitement level practically reached high heavens. I firmly believe that anyone who'll say that this movie is awful aren't capable of distinguishing great movies from crappy movies. There's so much going on onscreen, one viewing may not be enough to really appreciate it. There are a lot of symbolisms and allusions, you'd still be thinking about the things you have seen hours after watching the movie. Clearly, this in not JUST a comic book movie, it's so much more. The word EPIC seems to be an inappropriate word to describe a comic book movie, but in this case, no other word seems to be more fitting.

Definitely 5 stars out of 5!... wait a minute...

make that 10 stars out of 5! :)

Batman: Gotham Knight

Batman: Gotham Knight is the third direct to video release from Warner Premier, the first two being Superman: Doomsday and Justice League: The New Frontier. This film was heavily promoted as a bridge between Batman Begins and its impending sequel, The Dark Knight--- a transitional story of sort. Obviously, this is an attempt to cash in on the anticipation for the sequel's imminent release, very similar to The Animatrix, another direct to video animated film that was released when the Matrix fever was at its peak in 2003. But whereas The Animatrix was a genuine attempt to answer questions and tie up loose ends--- and it did accomplish those goals, Gotham Knight does none of that. The six animated shorts do not really seem to be related to the Batman universe that Christopher Nolan has created. They don't even tie up loose ends from the first movie. Another blatant example of false advertising at its finest. Bridge between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight my ass.

To really appreciate this film, one should take it for what it really is. It's not a transitional story made to bridge the gap between the two films. Granted, the events shown could have happened in the time period between the two movies, but the time line is so vague that the events could have happened at anytime during Batman's life... and since they don't actually contribute anything to enrich the storyline in the first movie, nor do they foreshadow events that would happen in the sequel, it's misleading to refer to this film as transitional. The six animated shorts are simply glimpses in the life of the title character. That doesn't make it bad. For one thing, the animation is top notch. Different teams were assigned to each chapter (featuring top anime creators from Japan!), and although each style is remarkably different from the other, not one chapter was haphazardly done. They created the perfect blend of Japanese and American styles of animation. It's pretty obvious that a lot of effort was made to deliver what we see onscreen. Top writers were recruited to create the storyline for each chapter. While this seemed like a perfect idea on paper, these writers seemed to find it difficult to tell a story that would make a lasting impression. With just 10-15 minutes allotted for each story, who could blame them? The whole film runs for only 76 minutes... it would have been better if they just made each episode longer. The short stories are self contained, and when taken individually, some are pretty boring, but the better chapters, namely chapters 4 and 6, more than make up for them. It's not perfect--- the Batman Animated series shown in the 90's featured more compelling stories, but I would say this is still an above average effort (unlike the previous animated video release from Warner Premiere). Every casual viewer would most probably find something to like. As for Batman fans, this film is enough to whet their appetites a bit before all hell breaks loose when The Dark Knight is released... and that's only 5 days away from today! WOO-HOO!!!

I Am Movie Critic

It's funny how we base our judgment on what we see initially, even before we have the opportunity to judge something in it's entirety. Nope this isn't going to be one of my incredibly pensive, overly somber and dramatic entries. I'm talking about movies! As I've mentioned before, one of my favorite past times when I'm bored is pretending to be a critic. LOL. It's that time of year again, and the Hollywood popcorn movie machine is now on overdrive.

Based on movie trailers I've seen this year, the summer movies that I said I was definitely going to see were Ironman, Hancock, and The Dark Knight. Wanted wasn't one of them. The Movie trailer just wasn't interesting enough--- it looked as boring as Wall-E. Also, the premise looked a little too similar to The Matrix. Even the title of the movie sounded very ordinary.... but because of good word of mouth, I decided to give this film a try--- and I'm very glad I did!

I haven't been blown away by the action scenes and special effects I see on screen ever since The Matrix. Yeah, there was Batman Begins--- but the action scenes in that movie were more straightforward, while the action scenes in Wanted were so slick and stylish--- for lack of a better term, that I couldn't help but stare. There are enough twists and unexpected events to keep you glued to the screen. There's even clever humor to let audiences take a breather from all that action.

There's a lot of action scenes, tons of explosions, tons of blood spilled, there are lots of casualties, and the film even has a killer soundtrack--- what more can you ask in an action movie? This is the best popcorn movie Hollywood has churned out this summer, and it's definitely the action movie to beat this year. 5 stars out of 5!

on the other hand...

I really wanted to see Hancock based on the trailers they've been showing, and I just watched the movie earlier today. Will Smith stars as a drunken, filthy, irresponsible person gifted with superpowers. That doesn't really fit the superhero profile, does it? With such a premise, Hancock had the huge potential to go beyond the usual summer blockbuster movie fare. It could have offered a glimpse inside the mind of a protagonist we're not accustomed to--- the anti-hero character, dissecting his thoughts, his aspirations, his motivations. It could have been an effective deconstruction of the superhero mythos that we've all grown familiar with--- that superheroes aren't perfect; when their powers are taken away, they're just like the rest of us, each with his own nuances, imperfections, idiosyncrasies. Heck, It could have been an in depth study into the human psyche. It did start out strong, and for the first third of the movie you'd think it would live up to that potential--- but somewhere along the way, it flounders. It seems as if the filmmakers didn't really know which direction to take, and it is very evident onscreen. In the end, instead of being extraordinary, Hancock is nothing but ordinary. 3 stars out of 5.

The Dark Knight is Upon Us

Here's the latest, and so far--- the best trailer for The Dark Knight (courtesy of Domino's Pizza! LOL). I can no longer quantify the amount of excitement I have for this movie. Early reviews describe the movie as phenomenal, and I hope my lofty expectations are met. Christopher Nolan has never let me down before, and I'm sure that once again, he's going to deliver. July 18 is almost here and I'm definitely going to be one of those people who are first in line at the IMAX theater! :D

No Such Thing As Quality

Don't they build things that are meant to last these days?! A few months ago I was complaining about the power windows of my now demised Honda Civic, which were malfunctioning just a few months after it was purchased. And now, after just two months, there's something wrong with my Toyota Altis! The radio, which is very essential to me--- it keeps me awake when I'm sleepy, It helps me release tension when I'm pissed, it plays songs that I could sing along with when I'm bored... is malfunctioning! A month after using the car, I noticed that the radio changed radio stations when I turn the steering wheel too hard. I figured there was a glitch in the electrical system, but since such an occurrence could be avoided, I just ignored it. The real problems started about a month ago. All of a sudden, the CD player would eject all CDs even when I'm not doing anything. At first I thought I just accidentally pressed the controls on the steering wheel, but then it happened again when my hands were off the wheel. It didn't happen for about week, so I dismissed it as an isolated glitch. But then it started doing the same thing again--- this time more frequently! And to make matters worse, sometimes the radio would suddenly turn itself off! Then this afternoon, i couldn't even turn the damn radio on! Argh!

Good thing the customer service of Toyota is prompt. They would replace the radio with no additional fee as soon as I bring the car to their service center. It's just so annoying when glitches happen in something that you've just purchased. Either they don't manufacture things like the way they did in the old days, or I'm just extremely unlucky when it comes to cars.

D.N.I., D.N.R.

Do not intubate, Do not resuscitate. Usually, we give relatives of critically ill patients a choice, whether to resuscitate the critically ill patient or not. We explain the patient's case thoroughly, and when we believe that there is no more hope for the patient to get well, we inform the relatives of this option. People have different reasons for not wanting to resuscitate their relatives. Most people say that they do not want their loved ones to experience any more pain and suffering, especially if the illness has been chronic. Their loved one has already gone through enough. I believe others base their decision on their finances... though they do no admit it. I believe most of them really do care for their relatives and they want us to keep trying even when all hope is lost--- they just couldn't afford it. But I get the feeling that some are relieved when we bring up this option--- relieved that their bank accounts could finally take a breather. Whether or not they truly cared for their patient is beyond my perception. I understand how someone could choose not to resuscitate a person they loved deeply when resuscitation could offer nothing more than to prolong the inevitable, and simply result to broken ribs in the process. When all is lost, the best option at times is to let go.

But what if resuscitation can clearly save a patient's life? I understand patients who refuse to give consent--- after all, intubation seems to be a very uncomfortable, even painful procedure. If I was conscious, I doubt if I would give consent myself. But when the patient cannot decide on his own, whether conscious or unconscious, I can't understand how their guardians choose not to resuscitate even when we explain the benefits to them. Why bring these patients to the hospital when they refuse to allow us to perform the appropriate management? At times I'm tempted not to follow protocol and just pretend that the patient has no guardians or relatives so that I could do whatever I must do to try and save a person's life. I couldn't understand the relatives of this one patient who could still speak, who could still walk, who is still capable of emotions--- and yet his relatives ask us outright if they could already sign the form that says that we shouldn't resuscitate the patient in the event that he goes into arrest. I guess I'll never understand why some people behave the way they do.

Last week, another patient came in with difficulty of breathing. Breast Cancer Stage IV, with pleural effusion. Thoracentesis and closed tube thoracostomy done several times. The disease was no longer curable, patient was discharged from where I used to work a week prior, and was told to just let the patient spend the last few days of her life at home with her loved ones. Right off the bat, the patient said she did not want to be intubated. She did not want to have needles injected either, and inserting a chest tube was definitely out of the question. She was quite delirious, screaming and gasping for breath, yet asking for soup, which would definitely quickly ended her misery if her request was heeded. We turned to the relatives, and they said the same thing. They did not want to have any resuscitative measures done, because the patient did not want to. I wouldn't call it ignorance because we kept on explaining everything to them in simple, clear layman's terms. It would be harsh to chalk one up for stupidity, but I could think of any appropriate term. Maybe stubbornness. Maybe weariness. Maybe surrender. There she was, screaming and gasping for breath, and we couldn't do anything--- except watch her slowly die. A few hours later, she finally succumbed to pulmonary arrest---- just when her relatives decided to just bring her home. Maybe we should've just let her have her soup--- at least she would've died with some sense of satisfaction, her last request granted.

I've always thought that I was already numb to the idea of death, having witnessed a number of deaths each day that I am working at the hospital. One patient died, no big deal, just move on to the next. But on that moment, I couldn't help but feel sad. I knew that our hands were tied and it wasn't our fault, but I couldn't help but feel guilty. Maybe we should've tried convincing them more, maybe we should have tried harder. Maybe we should've thrown protocol aside and just pretended that we did not need their consent. Foregoing consent may be deemed unethical--- ignoring the patient's rights, physicians playing God, imposing on others what they believe is best... but for me, the sin of omission seems just as unethical... even more so.

But what do I know? I'm just a hospital employee carrying out orders, following protocol, in a line of work where having a conscience is a sign of weakness. With all the pain, death, and suffering we face each day in our working environment, letting emotions overwhelm you could only lead you to the brink of your own sanity.

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.

An Incredible Feat

I'm not part of the overwhelming majority who thought that the first Hulk movie sucked big time. In fact, I liked the whole Greek tragedy allusions and I didn't think it was overly dramatic. But of course, that was not the Hulk movie people wanted. Both fans and casual movie audiences expected an all out action movie with lots of destruction. No one wanted a Hulk movie that would be better suited for the art house film crowd. Four short years later, Universal pictures released this reboot. At first, I didn't want to see this movie. First of all, the trailer--- which was supposed to show the best scenes in order to attract audiences, did not interest me. The film looked pretty boring for an action film. Regarding special effects, The hulk still looked incredibly fake, even with all the advancements in digital technology. I thought they just wasted the acting talents of the cast. But after reading the reviews in the Internet which were mostly positive, and since I'm a sucker for films based on comic books, I decided to give this film a try. It's not perfect, but it's the Hulk movie people have clamored for in the first place. Action packed, fast paced, and with lots of destruction, you'd end up asking for more. At frist i thought Ed Norton didn't fit the part, but then I realized that Bruce Banner was meant to look geeky, unlike Eric Bana who looks like someone who can already beat you up pre-transformation. hehe. The effects weren't really that bad--- you would get used to the Hulk as he blends with reality. It's not as good as Ironman, and I doubt if it will even be half as good as The Dark Knight, but comic book fans would still be pleased, and action fans wouldn't come out of the movie theater disappointed this time. 3 1/2 stars out of 5. :)

No to Nokia

The brand Nokia used to be synonymous with quality. That was years ago, when cellular phones weren't that sophisticated. A few years ago, after I bought a Sony Ericsson phone, I swore I would never go back to Nokia. Not only were their phone models sturdier, there were also less bugs in the software. Plus all of their high end phones actually had all the features you need in one model. A music player, a camera, an FM tuner, a basic web browser... I used to wonder why Nokia used to separate those features when it was possibly to offer all those features in one cell phone model.

Last March, I realized that it was time to buy a new cellphone since my phone already looked very worn out--- i've been using it for more than three years after all. Since I was very pleased with my old phone, I checked out the Sony Ericsson website and browsed through their latest phone models. What I was really looking for was a model with an excellent camera since I like taking random pictures every now and then, but the phones that had good cameras didn't look aesthetically pleasing... in fact, some of them looked downright weird. About the same time, Nokia was advertising their N82 model. At first I ignored all those ads, but out of curiosity, I searched the net to check out its features. It also had a 5 megapixel camera which was great... but what surprised me was the fact that it was loaded with features! Aside from the usual web browser, fm tuner, music and video player, it came with wifi! it also came with GPS! WOW! And aesthetically speaking, the phone didn't look bad at all. I guess all those features blinded me, because after a few days I threw all caution to the wind and purchased a Nokia N82.

When I first held it, I immediately thought of one thing--- Fisher Price. I thought the phone felt too plasticky --- it would probably break if I held it too tight. It really felt like a toy. What the heck, i thought. I'd just take care of it since I'm very careful with my gadgets anyway. Besides, I was very satisfied with the camera. But after just a few days, there were scratches all over, even on the screen!--- Even though the phone was usually just on my pocket with nothing else, except maybe a handkerchief. I have to admit, A lot of those applications were really useful like the document viewer, but the software was painfully sloooooooow. It takes several seconds to open a single text message, and I won't even get started on my web browsing experience. even with a good connection, it takes ages to move back and forth through web pages I've visited. The default web browser wasn't any good, I had to download a third party web browser. There's also a lot of bugs--- some are negligible, but there were many times that I felt like throwing the damn thing out of frustration. The phone would suddenly hang, or spontaneously reset. I couldn't delete messages because text message memory is full?! What the fuck is that?! Clearly, Nokia still hasn't gotten the whole software development thing figured out.

I knew better, and yet I've made the mistake of giving Nokia phones another shot. I thought it was safe to assume that they've mastered the art of manufacturing next generation cellphones by now. So much for giving second chances. It's not really a bad phone... I have to say that it's above average, but there are a lot of better options out in the market today. I should have just waited for the 3G capable iphone which will be out later this year. Packed with a zillion features, with an SRP of $199 for the 8GB model, it's practically a steal.

Natural Bliss

If someone would ask me if I ever feel genuinely happy, I would say yes. I'm genuinely happy when I'm drunk. The alcohol blurs out all worries, erases all problems temporarily, that I am overcome with such joy. The happiness that I feel may be unnatural, the happiness I feel may be unreal, but during those moments, I could truthfully say that I am happy.

Do I ever feel happy without the aid of chemicals in my system? Yeah, I do. I'd usually say I am genuinely happy when I'm at the beach--- such a simple answer, some might even say shallow, but it's true. What can I say, I'm a beach person. :) Every time I see the untouched beauty of nature, I could simply sit down for hours, admiring the view, awed by the splendor right before my eyes, appreciating the peace and quite that seem to be a luxury these days, doing nothing else... and I can still truthfully say I am happy--- genuinely and naturally. :)

*pictures were taken during my camping trip with friends last week. Just like that old Mastercard ad... cell phone to call friends: $___. pda to beam friends: $___. internet set up to IM friends: $___... actually being with friends: priceless :)

Omission

It started out like any normal day in the emergency room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Managing patients left and right. Writing down orders. The occasional cardiopulmonary arrests break down the monotony. Then someone came up to me, his face vaguely familiar. Was he a patient on follow up? He spoke some words that at first i could not understand. He seemed really upset, even angry. It took me a few more seconds to realize that he was blaming me for something...

He said his brother, a patient that I managed in the emergency room, died two days after being discharged from our hospital. And he was blaming ME for his death. Saying that we did not attend to his brother, that we basically just ignored them, that's why they were forced to leave--- because apparently staying at our hospital would bring them nowhere. That's his version of the story. I took me a while longer to remember his brother's case. With the number of patients we see everyday, faces have this tendency to blur.

They sought consult because of a carbuncle on his right buttock. It gave him great discomfort because it was very painful every time he tried to sit down. At first we directed them to the outpatient department because clearly such cases aren't managed at the emergency room. But since he looked weak, we decided to give him some primary treatment. Upon closer inspection, the patient was febrile, and he had yellowish sclerae. He was probably septic. The carbuncle, his primary complaint, was probably the result of a system wide infection. But since there were very limited ancillary procedures available in the God forsaken hospital where i am employed, I couldn't really pinpoint where the source of infection was. Empirical treatment seemed to be the only option, as always. But since the antibiotics of choice were not available in the hospital, we had to ask the relative to purchase the antibiotics in one of the drugstores outside. That's the first stumbling block that we couldn't seem to hurdle. The money they brought with them weren't enough to purchase the medications. If only the medications were available, then they could just opt to pay for the meds prior to discharge from the hospital. Sadly, such a scenario remains to be a dream in most government hospitals.

The second stumbling block--- the patient can't be admitted because there's no room available. Because he was septic, it was not advisable fro him to stay and wait at the emergency room when there's no certainty as to when he would be admitted. In the emergency room, patients with various infectious diseases are placed side by side. Prolonging his stay in the emergency room would only worsen his condition. We had no choice but to advise them to transfer to another hospital where adequate treatment would be given. I was about to explain this to them, when the patient's brother told me that they decided to go home instead, because they would be leaving for the province the very next day. I told them that it was not advisable to go home. And he was definitely not in the condition to travel. I specifically told them that they should transfer to another hospital. I thoroughly explained his brother's case, but they were stubborn. They said they already purchased tickets for the trip, and they have to back to the province the next day. They would just seek consult at the provincial hospital. I told them that if they would insist on what they want, they should sign a waiver that they want to be discharged against medical advise. They agreed. It was against hospital policy to give a referral form when patients decide to go home against medical advise, but I gave them a referral form that they could show to another doctor when they decide to seek medical consult. The patients vital signs were stable, and though he was weak, he could still walk. I signed the discharge papers saying it was okay for them to go. That was two weeks ago.

And then the patients brother suddenly showed up, accusing me of negligence. Accusing us of being numb. Saying things like just because they are poor we didn't give them the necessary treatment, making the whole thing case of oppression, a clash between socio economic classes. What did they expect us to do? Shell out money to but the medications outside? If we did that to one patient, shouldn't we be doing the the same thing to each and everyone of them? If I had enough money, maybe I would have done that out of pity, but I certainly didn't have enough money to buy medications. Just because we are doctors doesn't make us martyrs. Sure, we could be martyrs if we wanted to, and I have been a martyr several times in the past. But in reality, doctors couldn't afford to always be martyrs. Majority of doctors can't afford to be martyrs at all. And it's not like I gave them faulty advise. I kept on reiterating that they must transfer to another hospital, they should not go home. I explained the possible consequences. I kept on explaining this to the patient's brother and he can't seem to understand. It even seemed as if he suddenly had selective amnesia, completely forgetting the preliminary treatment that we gave, forgetting the fact that i was persuading them to transfer to another institution, completely forgetting the fact that it was THEIR choice to leave. I kept on explaining and yet it couldn't get through his thick skull. He kept of blabbering the same things, keep on sputtering those accusing words, and my patience was slowly running out. I decided to look at the other patients before I said anything I would probably regret later on. I could still see him at the corner of my eye, just standing there, as if waiting for something. I had no idea how long he was waiting. I just realized that after some time, he finally left.

I know i did what was needed to be done. I managed his patient properly. I know I wasn't negligent. I am not guilty of the sin of omission... but why do I feel a tinge of guilt? A few hours after he left, when the work load became benign, my conscience started bothering me. Did I do something wrong? Was there something more I could have done? Maybe all I felt was empathy that I've mistaken for guilt. I could feel the deep sadness as I looked into his eyes. I could feel his pain. I could feel his loss. I could also feel his frustration... hopelessness... futility... anger. Anger brought about by loss. Misplaced anger brought about by a lack of understanding. And with the amount of anger that I also saw through his eyes--- even an innocent man would probably feel guilty with such a hateful gaze directed towards him.

Cashing In On Nostalgia

I'm referring to the latest Indiana Jones flick.

The first time i heard about this movie, one question popped in my mind. Why on Earth would they create a sequel 19 years after the last movie has been shown? Other than the attempt to cash in on the power of nostalgia and say that this movie is "fan service", I can think of no other reason than to try and resurrect Harrison Ford's dimming career.

According to other reviews, this new Indiana Jones movie pales in comparison to the previous films. After watching the film, I guess I have to agree. I can't remember the plot of the first three movies, but I remember being thrilled watching them when I was a kid. That doesn't mean that it's a bad movie. When it come to summer blockbusters, I would say it's above average. There are a lot of exciting scenes, and I'd be hard pressed to think of a boring moment. The problem is, it never rises above the usual popcorn fare. Every scene seemed to have been done somewhere before, in one form or another. Instead of taking inspiration from actual historical events like in the previous movies, they resorted to something fictional this time around. The fact that the type of fiction they resorted to seemed to be better suited for an episode of the X-files isn't helping. Even if Indiana Jones was tops 2 decades ago, for today's generation--- people who aren't old enough to be affected by the power of nostalgia, it would only seem like another rip-off of The Mummy and National Treasure--- even if Indiana Jones pioneered those types of movies two decades ago.

Happy Feet

I'd hate to sound like some product endorser, but I just couldn't help it. I've never been this satisfied after purchasing footwear. :)

I used to think that no one looks at shoes that people are wearing. I don't notice what shoes people are wearing, unless those shoes are shoved directly at my face, or when I have to bend down and pick up something... and I thought most people are also like that. That's the reason why my shoes are usually old, dilapidated, and downright dirty. I thought shoes were the last part of one's wardrobe that people look at. So when I recently bought a pair of Sanuk sidewalk surfers, I was really surprised when almost every person I bumped into noticed the footwear that I was wearing--- and when I say notice, that's notice in a good way, and not a bad way! I didn't buy a pair just to look cool and fashionable--- I bought a pair because they were really comfortable. In fact, I could wear them for several days and my feet wouldn't hurt. And the best part? They're not really shoes, they're sandals in disguise! People don't usually notice that they're sandals, so I can actually wear them to work! hehe. All those people I ran into gave compliments, asking where they could buy a pair, saying how attractive the sandals shoes look, asking how much they cost etc. I didn't buy those sandals just so I can receive compliments, but I have to admit, it feels great knowing that you can actually wear something that looks good without sacrificing comfort. *cough* *cough* crocs *cough*

The name Sanuk means "Happy" in Thai, and no word could be more appropriate. My feet are happy indeed--- in more ways than one! :)