Bleep

Everyone here who hates the sound of my blog say “aye!”

Sheez! Everyone??

Well the beep sound is what we live with in the ICU. Imagine about 5-6 of those machines beeping incessantly throught your 24-hour stay in that dreadful place. You get used to it, really, and sometimes it hums you to sleep. It’s a lot more soothing than the single continous “Bleeep”, which meant something was wrong.

Brings to mind a groupmate whose snores were the worst I’ve heard. The male quarters would be empty if he slept there. It’s that bad. But staying with him for 1 whole month in community medicine made us oblivious to it. One time I went to the quarters to take a nap. The beds were empty save for the snoring friend, as expected. In the middle of my deep sleep, I suddenly woke up. I knew something was wrong…he stopped snoring! I rushed to check his breathing. He didn’t seem to be moving. I waited for a few more seconds. His chest wasn’t rising! I panicked, but just as I was about to start anything stupid, “ngrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkk” came the loud snore with the smelly breath. Oh, thank God, he’s alive. I went back to sleep.

So bear with my blog’s beeping… it just means that I’m still alive. J

used to...

I used to say, "I don’t see myself in a 9-5 job." I became a physician - 24/7.

I used to think that after I’ve earned my M.D. everything would go smoothly. I’m still struggling.

I used to say I want to help the poor. Now I am poor. But I still do charity.

I used to ask why people leave the Philippines. Now I’m taking exams to go abroad. But I still love my country.

I used to want to go to the barrios to serve. In the future, maybe.

I used to encourage the young of their dreams to become doctors. Now I just smile and tell them to think about it – a lot.

I used to think that medicine is a very noble profession. Now i understand why.

Hello Tito?

First YM conversation of the family with baby dani in Canada. All of us were staring at the 17-inch monitor waiting for the little angel's voice...

Canada: “c’mon, say it, baby, hello lolo” (my sister’s voice coaxing dani to speak ) Baby Dani: "he-lo lolo "

Quezon city: Huraaaaah!!!

Canada: “ok, now say hello lola” Baby Dani: "he-lo lola"

Quezon City: "Huraaaah!! "

I'm next!! i'm next!!!

Canada: “ok, say hello tito”

that’s me!! with all ears i listened to Baby Dani:

" he-lo Titi"


*****

blah blah :))))

Our records indicate that you have already passed this Step or the equivalent NBME® Part 1 and blah blah, and blah blah and blahblah....

back to the same routine

it has been 4 weeks since i took the exam and i still don't have the results (of course, they said 6 weeks, idiot!)

well i need to start studying for step2. that's what i'm doing right now. so i'm back to the burgers, and the fries, and the mcflurries, and the hot choco, and the people watching, and the eavesdropping, and some reading.

same old, same old. i believe i have just become a professional student.

Jump! Jump!

(foto fr google) wish our puddles were this easy...

Let me tell you about the rainy months when I was in elementary. We lived just a couple of blocks from the school so there was no need to ride a tricycle or for my father to drive us to school via our rickety owner-type jeep (which, by the way, was slower than a tricycle on the highway).

So we walked to and from school everyday. Now, the road we always took was uncemented and when the rains came, it was brown with mud and puddles. And when I say puddles, I mean riversized puddles which spanned the whole width of the road. How you got to the other side depended on your breakfast and how nimble you were. A group usually huddled at one end of the puddle watching a brave soul cross it, taking mental notes on where and where not to step in order to get to the other side as dry as possible.

There would be little stones whose tops showed above the puddle when the water was still. We would hop on each small stone on one foot, hoping the next one would be near enough to reach in the next jump. Often, the stones you picked rolled over when you step on them and your foot would end smack right into the mud – but you wouldn’t give up your other foot so you’d be standing on one leg in the middle of the puddle thinking of the next step….then you see a tricycle coming….a fast one at that.

we'd end up in school eventually with brown socks and smelly feet. But that meant going home wouldn’t be as difficult.

Your Prayers Needed

I would like to save this post for two strong women who need your prayers right now.

FayeClarice is a blogmate and though i haven't met her personally, she's a medical student that's why i feel for her in a special way. Her mom has been diagnosed with hepatocellular carcinoma and she badly needs those prayers. Read more about it and her father's letter in her blog.

Persia, has been a good friend since my elementary days. Her mom's got a brain infection and though previous suspicions of a possible meningioma were dismissed, it still is a serious case.

If you have been in a similar situation, in danger of losing a loved one, you know what they are going through. You may not know them but a little prayer wouldn't hurt, would it? please?

Betty Go Belmonte station

Voice over the speakers in the LRT: “Approaching Betty Go Belmonte station; Paparating na sa Betty Go Belmonte station”

And then I stifle a laugh. I always suppress a laugh when I hear that name, Betty Go Belmonte, (hahahahahhaah!) sounds so funny to me. Betty Go Belmonte. In my mind I see a filthy rich, little old Betty, in a flamboyant dress with flashy jewelry and shoes and thick makeup. A little creature with her own eccentricities scurrying here and there trying to appear busy. Maybe she was a really important person, no? To be named after a train station, that’s something, right? Heck, why do I even assume that she’s dead? She might be alive and kicking for all I know.

Oh, enough blabbering.

Betty Go Belmonte. (Hahahaha!). Betty go..betty boop go…Betty go belmonte…

Duh.

Iced Tea and Old Aunts

Ever notice how some food/drinks remind you of certain people?

Well a few minutes ago I craved for some tapsilog so my friend and I went to Goto King at 2 o’clock in the morning. My meal came with a free glass of iced tea. As I sipped my drink I noticed that it tasted just like my auntie grace. You know how old ladies smell, their taste of perfume, the smell of their lipstick and face powder which lingers in your olfaction after they kiss you…you know what I mean. And I don’t mean it in a bad way.

So there. Nutrilicious iced tea tastes like old ladies. And I just drank my dear auntie grace.

IRC

you get to meet different kinds of people in the IRC. some of them interesting, and some just make you...well... just read my irc conversation with an unknown person last night. For the record, i never give my real age or personal info online.

unkown: hi asl pls
me: 48.m.qc
unknown: 22 f qc
me: hi
unknown: oh hi hows your doin now?
me: say that again?
unknown: im asking you hows your doin now?
me: i thought i heard it wrong or you typed it wrong. are you filipino?
unknown: how bot you?
me: yes, i'm filipino.

unknown: suri ati bisaya kasi ako man!
me: e di magtagalog na lang. :)

...got it. makes me want to turn the friggin' computer off and just hit the sack. that's what i did.

delinkwent

Dang! It’s been 15 days since I last attended my math class.
me being a delinquent, y'all!

oink oink

A couple of days ago I was waiting for an fx when just a few feet from me stood a lady, properly dressed with heels, waiting for a ride with her friend. I was watching her when she opened her bag and took out some used tissue and shamelessly dropped them on the pavement beside her. What the …??!!! As each piece dropped, I felt enraged all the more. She got another bunch of from inside her bag and proceeded to throw them right in front of her without even bothering to find a trash bin.

My eyes darted from her garbage to her face and back to her garbage in utmost disgust and disbelief. I wanted to pierce her with my eyes and when she finally saw me, she looked back at her trash and then at me but I never took my eyes off her as I mouthed to her, B*BOY. I’m sure she felt humiliated because she hid herself in front of her friend and caught the next jeep which stopped in front of them.

One of my pet peeves.

wala wala wala

I’ve run out of things to write. Of course I think about topics that would interest you, my dear audience. Take for instance, the entry before this. Nobody has posted any comment though the counter has increased. I take it as that you are not interested in my political ramblings or politics in general. So maybe that’d be the first and last time you’d read something like that here.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. That’s the way it should be. Hmm, lemme see… oh, d’ya know that lucky hates her pellets now? And that she prefers eating tuna from the can? Imagine what a strain to my budget that is? But she’s getting fatter..err, I take it that fat ain’t a good term to use for ladies. She’s getting the curves, yeah, that’s better. But she ain’t gettin’ a boyfriend yet, no, no, not with me around. The poopycats have stopped bothering us (bless their souls) and we are once more at peace.

This is getting nowhere. I’d rather stop. Maybe I’ll have something interesting to write tomorrow. Something worthy of note should happen. Oh well, you never know what comes around. Sorry for the inanity.

Peaceout.