Mga dahilan kung bakit hindi ako pwedeng maging...

Pediatrician.

1.) I don't know why but kids cry when they see me. Its like they saw the grim reaper smiling to them and saying "Hi! Would you take my hand?" kinda thing, so managing kids would be twice as hard than the normal case.

2.) I HATE KIDS. They are jumping body bags of secretions, germs, and infections. Aside from that, they are messy and can't clean up after themselves so it gives me more reason to shy away from them.

3.) I hate it when kids die, they have so many things ahead of themselves and seeing one die, makes me realize and see the potential die so early. In medicine, patients die; from one reason or another but seeing, feeling, or having kids die in your hands makes you see a future being withered away. Making you feel its a waste. This entry has been an overdue post for awhile, maybe a hint of denial from myself that kids are better at bouncing back than adults, but THEY also DIE.
It was been a case of hemorrhagic dengue that I was able to observe due to the community service I was completing for my scholarship under the Cardio-pulmonary laboratory department. We were called in to check for the heart status and look at the exact time of death since the charity ward of the pediatrics department doesn't have its own ECG machine (believe me some hospitals in the Philippines share or have a limited number of ECG machines especially in the charity wards) so we went there. It surprised me since I saw a big four year old boy, with evidence of bleeding from the mouth, anus, ears, eyes and the nose with continuous epinephrine and dopamine drip, but his heart was failing and the baby was already on the point of exsanguinationation when we arrived. The ECG was also clear that the atria are already dead and the ventricles are the ones left beating with very minimal discharge. Patient's heart stopped bleeding 2 minutes after we came. With still the glossy look over his eyes, he looked over the lights and closed his eyelids. Then it was done. His parents were already crying all over us, but we couldn't really do anything. So we went out after calling the exact time of death and I saw the lost potential of a child. I thought I was already hardened with other patients dying on me, though most of them are in the geriatrics and already lead a full life, well sometimes too full with all the vices, but they have already spent their potential, their life force over something they deemed important. But with kids, they haven't even spread their wings and soared the vastness of life itself. They haven't even experienced their first non-family related kiss, never experienced having the enjoyment of sex, triumphs at school, heartbreaks or seeing the inhumanity of the human race against itself. Though dying young spared them from seeing the bad side of humanity, its wars and its own inhumanity over his fellow man, it keeps you thinking, "Would this child add or be the stopgap for this side of humanity?" That's the question I usually ask myself when I see dying kids. No matter how jaded I call myself be, how hardened I am with loss of life, I can't really stop thinking about these things.
Thats why I hate kids.

May mga araw na...

You just sit back and try to be happy for the people around you because, somehow, someway they found a piece of their happiness. Whatever it may be, or whoever that brings it in. So I just sit back, try to be happy for them, eitherway, I'm sad, lonely and in pain. Realizing that medicine would be the only thing that is left for me.
Sometimes, I ask myself, when I go home from the wards or the library, that I am afraid that I'll spend my life in the hospital. Just the hospital and that it would become my wife, my home, my everything since there is nothing else. So I ask myself "Is it really worth it?" My usual answer is yes it is. But growing old alone, bitter and sad, makes me think otherwise. But heck it is medicine we are talking about. Takes up your time, passion, and life sometimes
So I just sit back and relax a bit.

Sanaysay

I always wondered that why at times of sadness that my creativity, intellectual prowess, sometimes my physical fitness is at its peak. I so often wondered, why not during when I'm happy or when I'm at a normal state of mind? Suddenly it hit me, while watching House's Season 4 finale.

"Well, you can't always get what you want"

My life has been almost always been incomplete, most of the times, its almost on the "nothing left" part of life. Makes me sad, miserable, hopeless and the brink of admitting that things are so often not meant to be. Thats why maybe I strive more than what I usually do, subconsciously thinking, "F@CK it! I got nothing else to return to, so might as well push it beyond my limit" and during those times, I perform things out of the extra ordinary, do things that might as well be called hopeless cases. Things people shun as a lost cause. Though somehow I make it through, sometimes in flying colors or maybe just passing; but not failing, as people usual expect me too. Down the road when that drive of sadness and misery has left me, I usually take in many things, projects, work, anything to make me busy. I often rationalize, the reason I take that step is to avoid thinking or stop the realization that even after all of it, I'm still miserable, lonely, forgotten and left for dead, well left for other things in my case. BUT still alone.

But by being busy, I'm just hiding the fact that I am alone and miserable, pushing people away with my downright avoidant personality. I usually rationalize that I have work, work and work. Dissociate from myself and people, since I can't admit that fact. AND IN REALITY, I hate the pain, the reality of me being miserable and alone in this walk. Scared that I would be all alone. So I end up in a soup of my self-loathing. Loathing that I don't have anything to hold on and believe to. That I am alone.

And subconsciously I am starting to like being miserable, even knowing that being miserable won't make me any special than the other miserable guy beside the bus, by the streets, or by the halls of the hospital I walk into. Because I am afraid that I might loose that drive, that drive some people call excellence, ka-bibohan, or mojo. And be chance, I caught a discussion on the radio about Alanis Morisette, on how she lost her mojo, because she stopped be miserable. AND THAT SCARED ME, because unlike Alanis, I have nothing to fall back into, I have nothing else to hold unto. I so often tried holding onto the straws of religion, relationships, whatever comes in my dish, but in the end, its just misery that claims me back. Misery and the desire to miserable again when I'm not miserable AGAIN since I already finished what I have intended to do.

A friend once told me that, I'm having a kick by being sad or miserable, that its my choice to be happy or otherwise, and I'm choosing miserable because with miserable I am happy after all. AND I AM SCARED THAT SINCE I CAN"T ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT, is being miserable the NEED I must have? To be happy? To be successful? Or just be being miserable.

And in the end, I am still miserable.
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Something in between caffeine intoxication and having a House marathon made me write this. Maybe its true or a figment of imagination. Either way its up to YOU to believe it or not,