Doc dream.

If I will be a doctor, I will:

• Start my rounds early and interact with my patients more rather than give them an impression that I am very much in a hurry. Have you noticed how they can sometimes ask a question then they write something on the chart and then they leave? I’ve always wondered why they can’t linger longer just to see for themselves how a patient is doing.

• I will be in my clinic before ten a.m. If I can’t make it, I will ask my secretary to call each patient who wanted to see me. I will not let my patients wait for eternity before they can have a consult. My time is precious and so is theirs.

• I will converse with them eye to eye and try my very best to address their concerns humanely rather than treat them foolishly by giving them terms they don’t even understand.

• I will involve my patient and their families in their care. I will encourage them to participate and do their share.

• I will establish an open line of communication. As a doctor, I believe that my patients should know the reality behind their medical condition. I won’t make promises, but I will work with them to attain well being.

• I will not charge consultation fee too high based on the frames plastered on my walls. I will keep in mind that money is not my driving force but my love for the profession.

• I will remind my patience to submit themselves for a yearly check up.  I will call on them when it is time to pay me a visit.

• I will welcome new learning’s and will continue to learn new techniques in medicine.

• If and when I commit a mistake, I will be humble enough to say sorry and not defend myself because of pride and because I am a doctor.

• My clinic will be patient friendly. There will be comfortable couches and reading materials. I will provide a bathroom exclusive for my patients alone; water station or even free coffee unless contraindicated.

• I will hire a courteous secretary. A doctor’s secretary can sometimes be cruel to patients (a pain in the ass).

• I will play Mozart when I operate and I will create an atmosphere of openness rather than fear.  As the captain of the ship, I should remain calm and in command.

• I will create a filing system that is hassle free. No more index card or patients card given by a drug company. I will make use of technology for faster patient filing.

• I will tailor my fees based on the financial capacity of my patient. Every year I will operate free of charge to give back to my boss up there.

• I will be kind to nurses because I won’t be able to do it alone. I need them to complete a job. We work hand in hand.

• I will welcome students to learn under my wing. I will be open to questions and I will try my very best to explain certain things that they don’t understand.

• I will write eligibly for pharmacist, nurses, fellow doctors, and patients to understand what I have written.

• I will be humble because I am no GOD but only an instrument!

To add:

• I will exhibit a good example by staying healthy and observe a healthy lifestyle.  How can my patients believe what I say if as a doctor I have vices? A cardiologist who is overweight or who smokes?   

Coca Cola

I have three nephews – Paul, Demy, and Lucas. We live in the same compound which gives them the time to visit and play with my boys every afternoon. They run around the place, raid the fridge, eat whatever is on the table, they barge into my room together with the boys to annoy me. They are so successful in doing that! Mess annoys me!

Yesterday, they were here! I surprised them with yellow cab pizza - half pepperoni and half cheese. What’s pizza without a Coke? I took a break from studying and ate with them. I gave the little ones, Demy who is two and Lucas who is one, their own glass of coke! My sister looked at me horrified! I made a face and reasoned, “While we were growing up COKE was scarce! I don’t want them growing up feeling the scarcity of coke!”

We weren’t allowed to drink coke. I joked about it with mom, but she never gave me her reasons for implementing that rule. Maybe she forgets but I remembered. Having a coke was like given a price for a job well done like good grades, finishing household chores or doing assignments. I had tonsillitis one time because I stole the coke from the fridge and drank it when everyone was sleeping. My punishment was not to have a coke when my brother and sister had theirs. That was torture!

I wasn’t spoiled growing up. In fact, I did not have a pencil box full of Sanrio and Hello Kitty pencils. I hand Mongol number two. My Lolo bought me a pencil box that was not pretty if you compare it to what my classmates had. But it was for me the most beautiful plain pencil box there was because it came from him. I remember cleaning it every day to get rid of the pencil marks.

Lola’s spaghetti was the best! She can’t cook! But growing up her spaghetti was heaven to me. When she was still alive, I joke about her spaghetti. She would laugh and tell me that I ate a lot back then. Her spaghetti sauce was catsup, her ground beef was corn beef, and the cheese was present, lots of cheese. In those days, kitchen cabinets were made of glass (to-ka-dor). I would know if it was spaghetti time. I would see the ingredients inside the cabinet! Then I try to be good to have a taste of her spaghetti and a coke!

Lola will hate me for blogging about her. In heaven, do you think they are so high tech? When we got sick she lets us drink royal true orange with egg yolk in it. This is the reason why the smell of royal true orange can sometimes make me puke! Why Royal, why not a coke?

I think about my abuelos a lot. I wonder if they will be proud of me! Or will they tell m e that I should have done it differently? But knowing them, they will let me learn from my mistakes and let me glorify my success.

Memories can be comforting like the ones I have.

Dancing the Tango.

Wikepedia defined courtship as traditionally wooing of a female by a male, includes such activity as sending text messages, conversing over the phone, writing each other letters, and sending each other flowers, songs and gifts. Quite obvious, I am talking about human courtship.  This blog entry was prompted by something I said, “hindi ka naman nanliligaw eh.”  Not a question in the end, but a period. 

“Do you have suitors”, he asked.  Do I have suitors?  It depends on how I view it.  I do not have suitors, I have friends.  I do not like having suitors, that is why I would rather see them as friends. Friends first before anything else.  Friends act naturally.  Suitors tend to strut their best foot forward. I do not need the best foot forward strategy. I need something REAL, which includes the not best foot forward kind of thing.  From there, if it will blossom into something beautiful like the equanimity of life, then it can go to the next level which is courtship. 

“Should I expect something”, he further asked.  To expect is like inflicting pain to oneself.  Let the curve balls of life bring you to where it should lead you.  NO expectations.  Just this, if it is meant to happen, it WILL happen.  If it is LOVE or attraction (like the anions & the cations positive attraction where it can’t be helped), it will flourish.  I do not want it to be forced.  It takes time. 

I define courtship like that of a man and a woman dancing TANGO.  It is danced so passionately.  Two bodies becoming one and moving with the music.  The man leading the woman.  At one point, the woman resisiting the man.  Eyes intently staring at each other with only the music to guide them.  Courtship should be this way. 

But how can that be if there was no music to begin with?   

If you’re tangled up, just TANGO on.

Many years & more.

It is that many years and more since I’ve waited by the deathbed of a loved one.  Still, how familiar it feels - as if a version of me has continued to exist, uninterrupted by death.  How different everything might have turned out if by that time I knew how it was to be a Nurse.  Can this be why this incarnation of me persists (the girl keeping vigil, always on the look out) so I can get it right the next time with the people entrusted to my care? 

“I like to hear your voice,” he said in between breaths.  His eyes were closed, but the sense of hearing is the last to go.  I knew he wanted to hear me sound unaffected and happy.  That was the hardest thing, pretending not to be sad when in fact I felt like dying with him.  I held his hand.  Softly at first, but it turned into a grip. I hanged on to him, if only by a grip.  His hands felt cold, not the warmth I used to feel when I was a little girl.  This time, there were no words but I knew it was ALMOST goodbye.

I allowed myself to weep immediately without having to try.  In between guarded sobs, I saw a tear or two fall from his closed eyes.  Sometimes, with the memories of this man that I SO LOVE, I find myself wondering - what happens to people who don’t have hands to hold as they die?  Do they do it more quickly, so as to get it over with?  Or do they linger?  Do they wait to be touched? I lay my head next to his, “I love you Lolo very much.  You can go now.  I’ll be fine!”

A few roses still bloomed somewhere.  He came home to die in the room where I used to sleep smacked right in between my abuelos with only the contented hum of the ancient electric fan.  In his wallet was a picture of me.  He kept it those many years and more.