Saturday, June 30, 2007

Start of Something New

I really do miss hospital rounds. All the nursing stuffs, and the people there at my ward—ah, sheer perfection. A few months ago, I was there at our ICU-CVU unit, swooning over the best-looking medical resident who, in my humble opinion, is the most good-looking person in the entire hospital. MD, as I would like to call him, is sort of 30-ish, a chinito, was said to be the best among his batchmates, looks incredible fresh even after a 36-hour shift, and is very nice to the nurses.

We started with the same shifts. MD had just started his rotation to ICU while I was the novice nurse there, so we were both just testing the waters at that time. I used to be the most careful, meticulous, conscientious nurse then, and he just looks so overly confident, exuding a machismo appeal with a boy-next-door charm that every prepubescent girl (and prepubescent boys) panties’ would just pop out of their skimpy skirts with just his glance.

God knows I tried so hard to keep my thirst and itch for that MD. He is such too good to be true. He works well with the staff. Even the supervisor of the unit likes him. And he is in the making of a very good doctor.

So, we became good co-workers, he calls me Sir “Insert My Name Here” and I call him Doctor “Insert Me, er, Insert His Name Here,” he gets updates about patients from time to time, he tells funny anecdotes to me, we monitor patients together—almost the perfect beginning of a fruitful relationship. (Hahaha.) But when our relationship is just starting to flourish, there comes the end of his ICU rotation, and so of mine’s.

I was transferred to the Telemetry Unit. Almost the same staff of nurses but with different set of medical residents. The area is assigned to another male resident—well, okay-looking, nice to the nurses, not-that-confident, and not-the-kind-of-person-I-would-like-to-replace-my-beloved-MD.

Lest did I knew that MD was retained at the ICU. Since the unit was just adjacent to each other, I would always be caught stealing occasional glances at the nearby rooms, catching a little glimpse of his perfect sexy tresses and the black Crocs he wears at work. At times I wanted to ransack the resident’s quarters, close the door, massacre the other female residents, and practice the physiology of conception and fertilization with MD day in and day out, but then poof ends my perennial daydreaming.

Don’t get me wrong here. I’m a good nurse, and I am very professional. But each time his perfect crisp white suit and that sculpted little butt comes into my erotic, er, creative unconscious, everything comes to a blur. A girl could only dream, right?

Though I’ve chickened out to ask him out (god forbids he’s straight), perhaps in my mind I know that MD is better off like that than with someone like me. I want him to become the best Intensivist I will ever meet in my life. I want him to finish his residency, take up his specialty, and be the best doctor who I’ve ever worked with and I will work with in the future. I don’t want him to be the mediocre resident who literally (or accidentally) *killed* a rich tycoon because of a simple procedure went awry and yet still wandering the ward of the hospital I used to work with (perhaps this is in for another story). I just want him to be him. Just like that.

I don’t know what got into me why I’m letting it all out here. Perhaps it is because of the White Party-ish atmosphere in my psyche. Or perhaps it is because I’m torn between going into the White Party or my Co-Worker’s Birthday Celebration tonight. If things remain unresolved until later might as well stay home tonight and watch something happy like High School Musical DVD or have Scrubs/Grey’s Anatomy Marathon and dream of My McDreamy during my night slumber.

Well, that’s my take for the LGBTQ Pride Day. Long live LGBTQs! And remember, we are fabulous.

P. S. I will be posting this entry for a very short duration of time and will be deleted in a matter of days. My MD might read about this and hate me for life. That is a catastrophe.

Song Beneath The Song

Twenty-one years, eighteen days, seventeen hours, thirteen minutes and counting. In a world of ambiguity, helplessness and pains, perhaps an hour more would be too much to bear. When we were little, all we wanted was to grow up, to mature, to be independent, to be unconstrained by parental controls and the norms expected of us as we conform to the standards set by people superior to us. And true to the course of nature, we do grow up. Sometimes too fast that we feel our precious childhood had just left us. We whine, we cry, we become upset by the tremendous responsibilities accompanying adulthood and maturity. We cringe Erikson and suddenly cram to achieve intimacy, generativity and ego integrity erstwhile avoiding isolation, stagnation and the shoddily despair.

Perhaps we never have even the slightest idea of what we really needed, nor of what we really wish to happen
—everything tends to become a mistake, and as such, to be treated as something to be avoided. But when we realize the grand scheme of things, we therefore come to the realization that things really do happen for a reason, and no matter how awry, grim or repugnant things might become, the purpose that permeates matter, things and time, is existentially good, and in one way or the other, has an effect in shaping what we are at present.

es I have the propensity to become overrated. It is a phenomenological truth. No amount of hypothesizing nor psychopathological analysis would explain the present me. I hide behind pseudonyms, pseudo-faces and so much broken links that knowing the real me will only lead to much ambiguity and confusion. Nosce te ipsum advices of us of our intelligent forefathers. Much simple words methinks for a task so huge a lifetime of deciphering would never be enough for an impetus. Yet we still keep on doing so, for answering that simple question is but the key to sharing ourselves with others.

hile I was rummaging through my stuffs, I accidentally found a piece of paper I immediately recalled as my high school project. It was aptly titled, “Ten Things I Love About Myself.” What I’ve read is too much reality I seemed to have forgotten. After I reread the work that at first seemed foreign to me, sense came back into me and all I could feel is an unending gratitude that the things written in that piece of paper is indeed happening in my life. That was real solace. Why do I have to be reminded that there are things that I currently have but I do not have appreciation for? And yes, all I need was a piece of paper.

The literature below shows the exact content and I have considered it prudent to leave it unedited.)


I love myself…

ot only for being blessed with lots and lots of friends I can trust and rely on but for what they have done in making my life special and knowing that for the past years of our friendship, I never had any regrets in terms of being together with them and I know that this friendship would be endless…

ot only for all my problems and life struggles that test my strength and faith in God but for what they have done in transforming myself to become a better person and the assurance that God will always be at my side for every problem that might come my way…

ot only for having special talents and abilities I can use everyday of my life but for what they have been doing in making my life really unique…

ot only for my special traits, like the strengths that I have that amaze many people, I can carry hardships, I can carry burdens, I can hold happiness, love and joy, but for what I really am… I smile when I want to scream, I sing when I want to cry, I cry when I am happy, and I live when I just want to give up…

ot only for being proud about myself in the right time, places, and circumstances but for the fact that I had been respecting myself and others, I am aware of who am I, I neither seek definition from the person I am with, nor do I expect them to read my mind, and I am quite capable of articulating my needs…

ot only for the fact that I know love, and therefore I give love but for that I recognize that my love has great value and importance and must be reciprocated. If my love is taken for granted, it soon disappears…

ot only for the fact that I know God and I live according to His Divine Loving Providence but I know that with God, the world is my playground, but without God, I will just be played with

ot only for having my entire family who is always there whenever I need their advices and guidance but for the fact that they are still there no matter what, even knowing that I am really an unpredictable creature and still knowing and believing in my own capabilities whatsoever…

ot only that I am highly privileged with what I am experiencing right now or with what I am currently enjoying in but for what I am possessing to have these little spices, a dash of inspiration and a dabble of endurance. I know that I will, at times, have to inspire others to realize the potentials God had given them…

ot only that I do not live in fear of the future because of my past but instead, I understand that my life experiences are merely lessons meant to bring myself closer to self-knowledge and unconditional self-love.

What are the ten things you love about yourself? If this post inspires you and you feel loved, then consider yourself tagged.


P. S. Tin-tin, thanks for being so nice. You are one of the reasons why I love myself better now. This post is especially dedicated to you. Some images taken from flickr.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Strength, Courage and Wisdom

When I graduated last year, all I wanted to do was to work as a Staff Nurse. I am trained to do nursing work, and I believe that I have all the necessary skills and knowledge that entails professional nursing work. I passed the leakage-tainted nursing licensure examinations and opted not to retake the December boards. I applied in several institutions, and while waiting for the applications to ensue, I tried entering the call center industry. An industry I fell in love with, and I never wanted to depart from.

I applied and submitted myself to the battery of examinations and interviews from the 3 most prestigious call center industries in the country. I passed all of them with flying colors and until present, some of the companies I have turned down are still chasing me down. I chose the path less traveled and entered a call center company catering to Nurses and Medical Professionals. I have 3 reasons why I pursued this industry. First, I wanted the financial incentives and benefits of this kind of work. Second, I wanted to hone my English skills as a preparation for the English proficiency tests I will be taking in the future. And lastly, the pang of curiosity. It’s a kind of work that is in demand, as if everybody is destined to become a call center agent once in their lifetimes. And besides, it is one of the ways where I can socialize and meet a lot of people. People who I never thought will become a very important part of my life.

During my first month I’ve had the opportunity of meeting the most wonderful people you can ever meet in your entire lifetime (and one of my co-worker instantaneously became one of my crushes hahaha). I used my earnings to pay for my bills, and I have invested some of my money to buy a brand new cell phone, ipod, an Hermes belt I have paid in just 3 months, and a lot of stuffs I am enjoying at present. My English skills improved and I developed the confidence and the assertiveness that I desperately needed at that moment. The working conditions in that company is bliss and entering its halls day in and day out is just like a walk in the park.

Then *real work* took its course. I was admitted (as an applicant, of course) to the hospital I have dreamt of working in. I quit the call center industry (perhaps, the most melancholic event of my life this year), and worked as a trainee in a prestigious hospital. I bypassed the 6-month general ward requirement and immediately got assigned at the Intensive Care Unit-Coronary Care Unit during the first few weeks and then to the Cardiovascular-Telemetry Unit-ICU Stepdown Unit for the succeeding weeks. This is a task too taxing for a fresh graduate who never had any previous hospital experience.

Working in The ICU-CCU-CVU is like the worst place to practice nursing as a novice nurse. There is too much things to learn, too much things and tasks to do, too much lives to save, too much effort to exert, too much sacrifice to bear, too much of everything that giving up has always been the best, and the worst option. During my first week, I reread nursing and medical books during my spare time. I forego meals just to read, and I forego sleep just to reread. I go to work scared shitless that the patient I might be handling will deteriorate with my care. I cry at the hospital comfort room almost everyday because I feel so overwhelmed.

There was a time when I prepared an instant cereal for a quick morning snack from a 6am-2pm shift but my patient almost went into an arrest and the next thing I knew it was past lunch and my snack is already spoiled. I had a patient who pulled out an endotracheal tube in front of me and I wasn’t even able to stop or restraint his arms. I had a patient who went into cardio-respiratory arrest because I was not able to Ambu-Bag him because I was catering to another client who is also in the verge of dying. I had a patient who almost missed an important dose of antibiotic because a medication card was missing. Oh the terrors. But never did I felt so out of place. This is where I want to be. And this is where I should be. This is my right place and this is sooo the place where I truly belong.

Every after duty hours there is nothing left in my heart but satisfaction and contentment because of the work that I do. It doesn’t matter if I did not take any meal during my 8-hour shift, or an attending scolding me because of an intravenous line I fail to insert. This is the job that I love and this is the job that I want. I AM A NURSE AND I LOVE IT. The material rewards, the praises I get from my patients, the commendations I receive from my superiors—they are all but a little part of why I love this job. A day without a patient dying is far more important than anything, everything, in this world. And the opportunity of being able to become a part of my patients’ lives and of their healing process makes me feel that what I am doing really matters. Yes at times I do envy people who earn far more than mine’s with lesser efforts, but the satisfaction, the contentment, the fulfillment—it’s simply priceless.

At the end of the day, sleepless nights and all, weight loss from starvation and all, muscle pains, slipped disks and all, I am just thankful… that I am living the life that I want, doing what I really love, and being the best nurse any person, sick or well, could ever have. And like what I usually say, “If it is in this field that I can find fulfillment, gratification, and contentment in this short life of mine, I’m more than willing to be an overworked nurse for the rest of my fleeting, ephemeral, but fabulous life.”


P. S.
I retook the nurse licensure exams last June and I desperately need your prayers so that I, in behalf of my fellow nurses, will pass the exams again. With unending gratitude in my heart, my sincerest appreciations for your prayers and well-wishes. Thank you.

Across The Universe

Online Dating

According to the site listed above, my blog is Rated R. Yup, and I'm in no position to complain. The site also made several justifications why my little shrine is rated as such. Perhaps I should write more light things eh? About fairy tales and puppy dog tails methinks? Haha. Even such thoughts make me cringe (nevertheless I might give it a try). Anyway, my life doesn't get any real than this and if my life is thus rated, might as well stand up for it right?

P.S. Do I really deserve such rating? I was expecting at least a PG-13. Harsh, harsh world. =)

Wednesday, June 27, 2007


Samson's parents were not able to have children, but they prayed to God that He would give them a son. An angel came to the parents and said they would have a son and he would be strong, and they must raise him as a Nazarite. Part of a Nazarite vow involves never cutting your hair.

Samson grew up and had the strength of several men. The Philistines hated Samson because of the damage he caused to their cities and fields. In one battle he slew 1000 of the Philistines all by himself using the jawbone of a donkey that he found on the ground nearby.

Samson's great weakness was beautiful women. Samson fell in love with a beautiful Philistine woman named Delilah. Night after night he visited her residence to spend hours with her.

Delilah had been promised a great sum of money from the Philistines if she could discover the secret of his incredible strength. Every day Delilah teased and begged Samson to tell her the secret of his tremendous strength. To get her to stop begging him on several different occasions he told her false things that would destroy his strength. He told her, "If you tie me with seven bowstrings I will lose my power."

While Samson was sleeping she tied him with seven bowstrings and shouted, "Samson! Wake up! The Philistines are upon you!"

Samson woke up and killed the Philistines.

Delilah accused Samson of not loving her because he lied to her and kept asking him the secret.A few more times Samson told her different lies and the same thing happened. e beat them all.

You'd think after one time Samson would get it that Delilah didn't really love him, but he thought he was so in love with her, he didn't care.

Delilah kept begging him to tell her his secret. Finally Samson told her "If you cut off all of my hair I shall be as weak as any other man."

When Samson was sleeping, Delilah of course cut his hair. The Philistines came; Samson woke to fight them, but his hair was gone and so was his strength. The Philistines were able to capture him and take him prisoner. Delilah, in the name of love, had betrayed him completely.

They blinded Samson and made him spend the rest of his days doing the job that an ox would do, grinding at the mill. He frequently was put on display for the Philistine people to mock him and to heap scorn upon him as their former mighty enemy whom the Philistines had reduced to a life worse than death.

One day Samson felt the breeze blowing through his hair which had begun to grow again, and he realized that his incredible strength was returning. He heard that there was to be a great festival in the Temple of Dagon, the Philistines’ false god. Three thousand people, including the Philistines’ most powerful political, military and religious leaders would be present in the temple.

Samson prayed earnestly, “Oh, God please forgive me for my sins and please use me for your glory one more time.”

At the festival in the temple of Dagon the people began to call for Samson to appear so that they could mock him and shout taunts at him. Samson had seen the temple of Dagon years earlier and knew how it had been constructed, its enormous weight bearing upon two tall round pillars in the center. As Samson stood between the columns the people laughed at him and spat on him. He prayed to the LORD God, "Oh, God, please be with me one more time. Allow me to avenge my people who are held in bondage by these people who worship a false and worthless god. Let your name be avenged."

Samson stretched his mighty arms around the two pillars and pulled with all of his great strength which had returned. The temple crashed around him with dust and huge stones falling onto the heads of Samson and the people who were worshipping the false god Dagon. All of the powerful political, military and spiritual leaders were present in the temple and they also were killed. Samson also died.


Saturday, June 16, 2007

Stand in the Rain

When I was 9, I sustained a fall at our bathroom. I hit my forehead from the tub, the skin opened up, and you could almost see my aponeurosis (galea aponeurotica) from the injured part. I was rushed to the nearest family clinic where I received local anesthesia and have my injured forehead sutured. The fall in itself is painless. The area was numb and all I could feel was blood rushing out of my head. However, when the physician starts closing me up, I could almost feel every stitch piercing my skin and my flesh. I had 6 pairs of stitches, and we went home with my head and spirit (broken) all sutured-up.

After 5 days, we went back to the clinic to have my sutures removed. At that time, atraumatic sutures, skin glue and absorbable sutures are virtually non-existent (or is it?). The doctor started cutting the sutures and pulling them out of my flesh with a mosquito forceps. I could literally feel the threads sliding and shearing pass my skin. Halfway through the purportedly pain-free procedure, the doctor admittedly confessed that he wasn’t able to inject some anesthetics over my forehead. He was removing my sutures without the benefit of freaking anesthesia. That explains the sensation of pain. And there I was lying still in the clinic bed, complacently uncomplaining of the pain I should have never gone through. I went out of the clinic, nevertheless, and there remains in my forehead the scar that bears witness to my childhood carelessness and unbearable sacrifice.

We all love to feel pain. I don’t know if other people do (or you guys do), but I have a personal penchant for feeling the queasiness, the almost intolerable sensation of hurt. I think it is because pain is what makes us feel more human, more humble, more lowly. Sometimes I think about all the pains I have endured throughout my lifetime—physical pains, emotional pains, psychological pains, spiritual pains—and how I have successfully transcended all of them (or how I am battling with them at present) and then I suddenly feel a personal bliss. If my memory would serve me right, my childhood pains all carries special treasures I call precious memories of my being-ness. The pains are the combinations of my downfalls, failures, successes, capabilities, weaknesses and victories as a man, as an individual, and as a person. Because we are always bound to experience pain in every single moment of our lives. Whether it be of an upcoming operation, or an uncomfortable medical procedure, or of a measly pinprick or a little rose thorn stuck in between your fingers or toes. Or of an impending separation with your loved ones, or the stretch of cardiac myofibrils when the person you really love broke your heart, or the pains of a broken heart mending. Or probably of the feeling of spiritual alienation, spiritual desolation or anger with The One. Pain will always be a part of our existence, had been, will be… will forever be.

One important thing about such painful experience is mostly not the avoidance of, or repulsion from pain. Sometimes it is the unconditional acceptance of pain that is what truly matters. It is in making most of second chances, of learning from these pains, and sometimes, becoming desensitized from them, but not completely numbing ourselves from the experience of it. Because sometimes, pains are inevitable blessings from Him, and all that we should feel is an unending, ever-flowing gratitude to the Source of All Things. And all we should do is to completely surrender ourselves—mind, heart, and all—to His Loving Providence.


A post regarding my existence during my 6-months absence will soon follow. I will be spending some time for my personal recollection (June 18-20) at Boracay. Drop me a line, and let’s spend a wonderful time in the tropical paradise.

-ruff-nurse-du-jour, 16-june-07, 10p

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Brighter Than Sunshine

After a long hibernation, the man with an incredible heart is back for yet another season of joys, tragedies and pains. So, read on, and be one with me as I celebrate the end of loneliness and another start of a spectacular beginning.

He had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirages would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.

Because “there are things in this universe that we cannot control, and then there are the things we can. . . . Let fate, coincidence, and accident conspire; human beings must act on reason.

"Good bye Mr. Wigin tell them I'm strong tell them I'm a man."

From Cien Anos de Soledad/Snow Falling on Cedars/A Lesson Before Dying

-ruff nurse-du-jour, 12-jun-07, 3p