Nightmare

The Medicine Auditorium was occupied with Doctors from different departments gathered for an Anual Clinico Pathologic Conference when I arrived. It was an overwhelming crowd. I am actually contented being seated at the back where I had a perfect view of what everyone is doing.

Today I thought of my younger self, back in time when I am fuelled with determination. One fine young lady, I supposed, bursting with strong points and promises. I was once standing in front of the crowd voicing my eagerness to someday wear a white coat with a stethoscope hanging on my shoulder, top of this is completing my name with 2 letters added after my  father’s—M. and D.— letters that empowers a good reputation.

The Class prophecy I read in front of the crowd (which I personally wrote) was the only way I could tell the world that I have a dream—that I wanted to be someone if only given a chance. During those times, it was rather impossible for someone like me to afford a Medical School, and survive it as well.

I can specifically picture out how gloomy I was to be listed as BA Psychology when all I wanted was a Science Degree in Biology as a Pre-Med course even though I was not assured yet of pursuing Medicine. I finished BS Biology and Medicine too. I was always secured. I always believe in myself. I am strong. I was once undistracted.

Today as I return from a 6-day hiatus, I remember all these. I desire to be revived. I want to breathe once again, of good hope.  I need my nerve back.

But how can I possibly finish my end when I am, in reality suffocated with anger? There, I found myself running away from the auditorium after being reminded that I'm shattered. I fail to compose my intentions. I was made-up to regain my strength but still too weak.

I found myself crying as if this agony cannot be fought. What really hurts most is a part concealed until becomes a little obvious…that I’m losing myself along my fading dream.

Behind the Scene

I’ll be on my Duty post (this supposedly be every 3 days) at the Emergency Room which will likely last 26-30hours depending on whatever circumstances may come about—my fear is not to be able to manage emergency cases amidst exhaustion and being mentally drained; I am more distress on dealing with some people whom I wish I'm not working with.  

Life behind this profession can be likened to a life of a poor hearted lad whose downfall of other people is the one that is  keeping them high, whose weakness is keeping them even stronger, whose darkside made them shineout and each scar they reveal from people made them beautiful. Pathetic way of becoming great. Our degree wont make most us any kinder (to each other), that is one thing. 

If this is one of the thousand ways of surviving, I cannot argue then. For there is a need for each and everyone to come out, not just alive but great...by all means

I am not a  perfect kind. I at times can become mad. I guess, as long as we dont messed up during the play and we keep this all behind... we are all doing this good. 

Life behind this nobility...

I shall survive this. 

Going back

Four days and I wanted to count more (if I could still do that) but that would be impossible, even unnecessary. I've been out of my training for four days (leaving my team no notes) which is a clear evidence of how unbecoming I am. 


This is probably the nth time I did not stand firm for what I wanted to turn into. This is the nth time I tolerated myself to waste another piece of me.
I am not running away this time.

You know me by name, perhaps, you know part of my story

I had enough of this poor situation, weak heart, lost spirit. I’m heading my way to the journey I longed for.

I’m walking a little step backward because I crossed boundaries.  Those extra miles I had, perhaps, made me lost my direction.But today, I’m heading my way to the journey I longed for. 

Today I decided to be trained to be the woman whose hands are instruments to save lives. My days won’t be like the days of people around me. My training won’t be as easy and will never be a smooth sailing because I have a scar whose pain I know will persistently linger. 

For as long as I’m on the same ground with the same people to interact with, there will always be someone who will remind me of my flaws (unintentionally as they can be). My days will never be the same. Chances of random things may jog my memories that will awaken the pains that once brought me to my disgrace. 

There will be kind of days--difficult and tough. There will soon be days I’ll surely find myself in one corner deep breathing to ease tension that could probably kill my remaining hope.

This agony will definitely stay—but I’m decided to pick the broken pieces of me, pieces that will soon cause deeper cuts to stir-up consciousness.   

I resolved to be preoccupied with things I needed to regain whatever was lost.

I’m taking back every single thing that was taken away from me—that includes my self-respect, my moral, my reputation.

Under Control

Three weeks of mentally somewhere in the middle of nowhere and three days physically out of the hospital...crap this life!

Im on a battle of ignoring the life I made myself. This is actually way too complicated than what I expected. Big trouble out of a little fun. hey! Things should'nt be this serious!

Things like this, happens, the least you expect (Trying to justify my situation).

Its not as easy as saying "I dont care" because no matter how may times I utter those lines to convince myself, I get tortured by reality. I do care. I am affected by actions, voices, words, stares, treatments of each and everyone.

Tortured by the need of not letting people know that I am hurting. At the very least, not to let them know reasons behind. And each time they notice there is something wrong, I easily sugar coat sadness by saying "I'm just tired" making it easier for me to avoid explaining myself because no one will question why Im tired.

Hurting because I once fell. I'm pained. I'm trapped. And Im like the kind of a patient who"ll say "I can't remember what happen" to all your queries because I don't want to remember. Simple as that. Time,date, place, nature has nothing to do on how you will treat me, or perhaps, knowing things from me will only make you add more insult which will aggravate unwanted situations. So... what choice do I get? Neither wont be a help.

I'm keeping myself in silence, instead. Ignore things around me, act like Im not seeing things that causes my heart suffer, go on like I don't hear words  that is hurting. ---too weak to accomplished all these plans yet.

My only fear is replacing this pain with anger, i can probably punch someone's face then (someone who is not affected at all!) for being part of this craziness too (kidding).

I'm wearing my blazer on again, not today, tomorrow  maybe. I will.

Ill get use to this. Ill get use with people and things around me. I wont be jelous, wont be mad, wont be crazy.

I left myself with only one choice.  I'll deal with the consequences which I actually anticipated from the very start. I'm not making this my unfinished business. This will end.

Face the situation, accept what is needed, and move on.

Be brave, my dear self.




"You can't control your emotions, but you can control your action"