Manila, August 2010.

I can make decisions at the snap of a finger...OR at the end of 5 days.
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I recently took a trip, and did some career-related things that I've been planning to do for quite some time now. It was something I've looked forward to, and since it was pretty important, and was all-business, I didn't really announce it with much fanfare. 


(I have this thing about not announcing works (or major decisions) in progress...I want to downplay things until I'm really sure. It would surely be a blow if i had had high expectations and then crashed miserably. I'm a bit selfish about my ego.:-p)


I had booked my tickets in advance ('cause it was cheaper that way) and besides, one of the hospitals I applied for really put their application schedules down. That was pretty helpful in planning everything.


The airport was packed (in Dumaguete terms, of course), and it seems many people were also making the trip to Manila that morning. I was travelling alone, which was more economical of course, since I was paying for my trip and every other expense. As much as I would've liked to bring a veritable entourage of cousins along for a fun ride, it simply wasn't going to work out. (Perhaps, when I'm a bigger name, and millions richer.)


I saw Manny Pacquiao getting off the plane from Manila that morning. His presence created quite a ruckus among the ground crew who had pictures taken with him while he was on his way to the arrivals area with his wife Jinky. I remembered that he was scheduled to speak at Silliman University's College of Law as part of the Founder's week celebration. (I didn't get the full-on view of him, but had to settle for what the zoom lens of my camera could handle.)

Manny Pacquiao being led by his entourage to the Arrivals area of the Dumaguete Airport.

Airport terminal entertainment included these three visually differently abled (they were blind) gentlemen who cranked out a variety of old-time tunes from Matt Monro (my favorite in their repertoire, actually), and even jukebox oldies from the likes of Eddie Peregrina and April Boy Regino. Which of course, were never my favorites, but I still had to hand it to him, the guy could really sing. 

The three blind musicians who rocked the airport music scene. August 26, 2010. (lol)

I seem to be getting into situations where kids abound. I sat next to a mom who had triplets...and I even got to bottle feed one of them when one of the others was acting up probably due to the pressure. I couldn't help myself and after introducing myself (and telling her I was a doctor), I asked her about her prenatal history, and all that. She was kind enough, and the kids were fun. 

The quirky little triplets. August 26th, 2010.

My uncle (and aunt and cousin) picked me up at the airport when I got to Manila...and dropped  me off at where I was staying (it was closer to the hospital than their place in Paranaque). My cousin Gerard and I had lunch 
at the mall, and for a little while, I had to be accustomed again to being in the big city, with the mill of busy people (talking in rapid fire Tagalog,mind) and the neverending traffic. (Yet, I had fallen in love with this City a long time ago, with its promise of adventure, so i figured traffic would only be a minor detail in the grand scheme of things.But we'll see about that, 'cause almost everyone I knew who's ever been in Manila has never liked being there, if it weren't for the studying or the work that they did.)

A degree in foreign services. Now why didn't I think of going into that? natch. :-) August 29th, 2010.

First off, I went to the hospital where I was going to be taking my exams the next day. I went alone, of course, I usually am lately. It's not that i didn't need anyone to go with me, it was just that i needed to get a feel of things without having to bother anybody. And besides, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of anyone should anything go wrong. Like I said, I was terribly self-conscious about having to show anyone a work in progress. 


The secretary who handled the scheduling was friendly enough, and after getting the details (and doing some additional payments for exam fees and stuff), I walked around a bit. We wouldn't know our room assignments until the next day. Since it was my first day back, I was still self-conscious about my Tagalog-speaking skills. Argh. Nothing makes me more anxious that speaking Tagalog. (I have to translate things in my head first, and that takes practice.)


Anyway, the next day, I found out that the room assignments were by group/specializations. Mine was to be held in a conference room on the second floor of the hospital and when I got there, there were a handful of students already in (which I adjudged to be from UST, because most of them knew each other). Well, the exam was 40% general medicine, and 60% Neuropsych, and when we handed our exam papers in, the chief resident (who looked like she was going to be a tough cookie, er, senior) told us to "make ourselves available" on so and so date for the interview. 

Sto. Domingo Church. August 28th, 2010.
So it looks like I'm going to be back in Manila again pretty soon. :-D

I wolfed down lots of rice and beef stroganoff afterwards, 'cause I got so hungry. Comfort food that my roommates and I had last year when we were living near UST.
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The Picture Show Room. National Museum. August 29, 2010.

I got a second-hand book on digital photography, which I totally love! :-) 


It's still pretty new, and has got great text and lots  and lots of pictures. 


The previous owner had written something in illegible scribbles which totally bummed me out, and if that were originally for me, I'd have wished, they were written like this, "Dear Stephanie, here's to a lifetime of great pictures. Love, (insert name of significant person)" 


LOL. Kidding. But of course, beggars (of good bargains) can't be choosers, and i was terribly lucky to have found that book. It smells great, and i started reading it the minute I got it. My cousin Chris doesn't like second-hand books, but I do. I always thought of them as extensions of their previous owners, and they came with attached memories, highlighted notes...and essences. They were lived/breathed/pored over and loved. I believe that makes them more special.


(And so,with dramatic flourish, I therefore say to the heavenly love that has made it possible to get that book to me, thank you very much. I love it. It's absolutely perfect!)


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Overfeeding time, with JoeJoe. A Veneto, Mall of Asia. August 27, 2010.

Oh, and I got to see my dear friend JoeJoe, an old schoolmate and fellow staff member of the school paper. Like any true friend would, he took me out to the Mall of Asia and fed me A Veneto pasta until I could no longer take in anymore and threatened to lose my cookies. Initially, I had asked him to take me out to a Japanese restaurant instead 'cause I was so hungry and was dreaming of a plateful of sashimi all to myself. He laughed and then said, " Just wait til you try this pasta place I'm taking you to, THEN we'll see if you'll still want Japanese after."


The darned dude was right, after all that pizza and pasta...I didn't think I could look at another plate of food again for that night. And after we walked around the grounds of the Mall of Asia, he got me a long tall glass of Caramel coffee at Seattle's Best and challenged me to down the whole thing down. I couldn't, of course. The next things I want to try when I get there would be the bungee jump thing, and take pictures of the sunset on Manila Bay. <-- I'm looking forward to it.


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Joejoe did his internship year at the Philippine General Hospital, and since I was going there to visit a family member who was admitted, I asked JoeJoe to give me a tour after. Haha, Joe was great. He talks to me mostly in English, in that off-the-cuff comfortable way that I'm used to have him talk in ever since we were in school. He showed me around the hospital and gave me useful info and "side notes" (although not all of these were terribly useful to me, they were just pretty hilarious, that's all.)


One time, we passed by this guy (an intern, i suppose, judging from his clothes) and I had to stop walking for a bit. :-) I elbowed Joe, "Joe, check that out, remember my crush back in med school... the tall guy, XXX? I thought I saw someone who looked like him, eek!!!" Joe didn't see the guy, of course...because among the two of us, I was probably the one who was more likely to have her attention caught by a guy.  Oh but the resemblance was uncanny... *sigh*. I got giddy. Joejoe just pretty much laughed at me in amusement.


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A painting of the Philippine flags in the Picture Show Room. National Museum. August 29, 2010.

I applied to two hospitals, and they're both interviewing next week. I'm nervous about it, actually, I mean, I love doing interviews...but I feel that this one is no joke. Joe said that I might have to prepare a script or something, haha. :-) I downloaded something from the internet, and well, the resource person who wrote it said that there was a need to get things down for some questions that were routinely asked, so I might have to work on that too.


Oh, if only interviews were as easy to do as honestly telling someone you like what you felt. (I got the idea from watching Sharon last night on tv with Hershey, over delicious hotdogs).


Bituin Escalante and Sharon Cuneta were doing a duet, and they were doing this great song that went something like, "Kung ako na lang sana ang 'yong minahal, di ka na muling mag-iisa... Kung ako na lang sana ang 'yong minahal, di ka muling luluha pa... Narito ang puso ko, naghihintay lamang sa yo..." (Anyway, the song's down this paragraph.)





LOL. it's corny, I know, but the principle is still the same. You're basically letting these people know that you're a good person, and you're willing to work hard at making [training] work, and that, deep in your heart, that is all you ever really wanted.


Right?


:-) 


(I hope I didn't embarrass myself with that CORNY spiel. haha)


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Hershey Miaco at the National Museum. August 29, 2010.

I checked out the National Museum with my little cousin Hershey. I loved it...even if we didn't get to finish looking at everything. AND my camera's batteries went flat when we got to the Spoliarium. LOL. I'm definitely going back.


I love Art and History...although I wouldn't say my feelings as academic, because, the closest description I can come up with is this, "Seeing great works of art makes me overwhelmed enough to feel like peeing in my pants." That's how I love looking at art. lol.

"Those who have eyes hear, and those who have eyes see." By Camille Dela Rosa. National Museum. August 29, 2010. (I liked the Salvador Dali flair and feel of this one. Edit: even if it is kind of disgusting.)

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Anyway, I've got work tomorrow. Be seeing you. This was a pretty long entry...and I hope it made up for the week I was away.
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Oh, and in reference to my opening sentence, my decision was that...i am decidedly scared. afraid. anxious. of what the next few months will bring. That, despite my best efforts, and despite giving myself away...I wouldn't get picked anyway. and that would totally break my heart.


Which is why I haven't made contingency plans in case I don't get in. :-) I so want to.


(And that goes for other things in life, too.)


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Love, 


S.

More to Coincidence

The Acoustic Version of "Do You Remember", which I'm posting because yes, I am a girly girl and because Jay Sean used to be a medical student.

Coincidence? haha.

Just a cute factoid.

Ok, back to work.

98% = (MY) Top 2 Medical School in the Country. (Congratulations, schoolmates!)) You Rock!

Full text here. :-) http://www.pinoyboardresults.co.cc/2010/08/top-peforming-schools-august-2010_18.html

Jay

My last blog entry for a while...


I couldn't help going "Eeek!!!" when I saw this on one of the blogs I followed. 


What a coincidence... Jay Sean covering The Script's "The Man Who Can't Be Moved". 


( I like Jay Sean, heck, up to now his "Do You Remember" is still my ring tone. :-D I loved The Script ever since my cousin Ruville had me listen to The Man Who Can't Be Moved)


(And he even likes Break Even.)


And September 3 in Manila, too!


(*Eeeek!) <--- Me, hugging myself. Haha


So maybe Jay Sean's version is a bit too pop for my taste (and too "wavy"/"curly"), but hey, it was just a fun coincidence that he'd be covering these songs that I like from  The Script.


 Nice. :-)

The Sign

I wondered if she was "A Sign"...

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This morning I was at the hospital I did my internship at to "collect" recommendation letters. It was late in the morning, and the doctors were deep into their clinic work. Since the attending I wanted to see still had a patient, I told the secretary that I was going to wait outside in the hallway (he had a full waiting room). 

I spied a quiet corner near the stairwell, so I leaned on the wall there, browsing through a book I had brought along to kill time with. 

A few minutes later, one of the attendings/consultants from my internship year called out to me. He had just come out of his clinic and probably noticed me ('cause I was loitering?) leaning on the wall, just flipping through the pocket text.

"Hey Michiko," he went, "What are you up to,  these days?"

I looked up from my book, and grinned. I told him the gist of what I was doing, and that I was interested in doing either Psychiatry or Neurology. He was the only one in the hospital who called me Michiko, perhaps either it was because my last name sounds Japanese, or that he totally thought that my name really was Michiko...either way, I didn't have the heart to correct him then. Well anyway, he wished me well, and was off to do rounds at the main building.

Presently, an elderly (OR slightly more middle-aged) lady came up to me, and said, "Are you really doing Psychiatry, Doc?" I replied, "I'm applying for it, Ma'am...but how it all fares, still remains to be seen." Her reply: "You'll be dealing with crazy * people, right? Right now, I am totally discouraging you..."

( * N.B. She used the dialect word buang to refer to people who were mentally ill.)

She was one of the secretaries there at the building. The surgeon she served under was still at the OR, and as such, there were no patients in her clinic. She was just coming out of the clinic when the attending (who called me Michiko)  talked to me. She probably overheard our conversation. 

She invited me to step inside so it would be cooler and more comfortable while waiting. Besides, the clinic was just parallel to the clinic of the consultant I wanted to see. I could easily see him if he comes out and not miss him.

She sat down at her secretary's table and started telling me about how she had once been a secretary to a psychiatrist who had practiced in that hospital. "Do you know Dr. So and So?" she asked. I didn't. So she went on to tell me that Psychiatry was going to be a bad idea because once people heard the word Psychiatrist, they immediately associated it with the "CRAZY". "Why, when Dr. XY ( a prominent obstetrician) referred patients to her, they wouldn't go to the clinic because they were afraid of being called buang." she said. "That's why, as early as now, I would suggest that you change your mind, and pick a different specialty, like IM (Internal Medicine) or OB-GYN..." she declared, matter-of-factly.

She was an older woman, with her hair cut short, in a pageboy dyed black brown.  She had a ready smile, and an air that bespoke of years and years as a secretary, having seen different tides and times in the hospital. She was in pink scrubs, with low-heeled leather sandals. When she talked, she had a way of speaking that, if it weren't in such a light, and amusing tone, would bring to mind something cautionary.

The doctor she worked for was a friend of hers, she said, and oftentimes (according to her), she would chide her boss that maybe it was wrong to take up psychiatry in the first place. Apparently, the doctor had to concede that maybe she WAS indeed in the wrong profession. Times were hard, according to her, and sometimes they'd go well into the night during consults. And they didn't charge much, she said, they made only Php 150 per consult, and that the biggest they had from a patient who gave 2500 a month. There were others too who didn't pay. They just gave cake (or a chicken. literally.). 

( She really was funny.)

She lamented about how her doctor was the only consultant in the hospital who still took the pedicab to go around the city, when all her other contemporaries were driving flashy cars. She really didn't make that much, she said. There was no money to be had in Psychiatry.

And so, this doctor moved to the States, where she had a thriving practice. Actually, the secretary told me other stuff, gossipy stuff, about that doctor. I pretty much dismissed that as irrelevant, but considered that she and I were nothing alike... and I therefore considered that maybe I wasn't going to be in the same situation she was going to be in, if ever I DID end up in Psychiatry.

From a secretary's perspective, she told me of "misadventures" of certain patients.  Since there was no official psych ward at the hospital I did my internship at, they admitted Psych patients into the top floor. One time, she said, there was this patient at the top floor, who spied someone building a fire (to burn leaves and stuff), she immediately got on the horn and called the fire department. And so, the fire fighters come rushing to the hospital, the alarm was sounded, which threw the whole hospital into a frenzy. 

It was a false alarm, of course. And, the patient was eventually discharged.

(I couldn't help but laugh aloud at this one inspite of myself. She was such an amusing storyteller.)

There was also a patient who, would come down from the top floor to flirt with the  attendings and the interns. She had been taking all sorts of psychotropic medications, had the side effect of lactation. She'd declare that she was pregnant (in English, too) and would go up to the males that she'd see and openly propose marriage.  

The secretary told me about the time when she had to chase around an agitated (or manic, who knows, she thinks they're all "crazy", anyway) patient who wasn't given a tranquilizing "cocktail"...

She had other stories, but it was cut short because the other doctor's secretary had told me that I could see that doctor now. I thanked her, and told her that I'd think about what she'd said to me.

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For all it's worth,what she said got me thinking, which is why, at this hour, I'm taking time to write this one blog entry out.It's true, Psychiatrists don't make as much money as the surgeons, but it's a different story now (they earn a little bit more :-p), and if the Php 150.00 consultation fee was true in the late eighties, it surely wasn't the same case now.

Yet I believe it's not just about money...and, so far, from what I've gleaned, that psychiatrist she was telling me about was the only one who had second thoughts, because most of the mentors I've had from Medical School who were psychiatrists pretty much enjoyed their jobs, enough to say, "I love Psychiatry", so i don't think I can count this one doctor's experience as significantly valid.

:-) Although I was amused by the secretary's willingness to share, and maybe give me good advice, it was a bit of a, well, a turn-off to listen to her talk about clinic stuff and her boss' personal life to a perfect stranger (me.). She didn't really give details, but still, it was pretty personal, and if I had a secretary in the future, it'd be helpful if she had occasional Broca's aphasia. 

Kidding.

Was she a "sign", though? I mean, it's pretty uncanny to have someone just come to you and just say her piece like that. I mean, what are the chances of me being there, applying for psychiatry, and she being an experienced secretary of a lady psychiatrist, coming up to me to "warn" me. How often are things are coincidental as that?

Still, a secretary's perspective is not the same as the perspective of the psychiatrist in question. This secretary will always have her biases, I suppose.

:-S

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I'm still scared of the unknown. 

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Adventure coming up in a few days. I'll keep you posted. 

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Ok, back to work for me. 

Love,

S.

"What it feels like for a girl"

I like Sarah Meier. 

She's gorgeous and beautiful, she's smart, she's got personality and class, and she's always vocal. Articulate and well-read, she seems to be on top of everything, and always has her own voice. 

She's also the same age as I am. Born August 17, 1981, we're just days apart in age (I'm a Friday the 13th girl).

:-) Before you go thinking that I've christened myself as fashion model material because of our similarities in age, I beg to differ. :-) Something she wrote about struck a chord, and it inspired to write a birthday blog entry, which I have been putting off for days.

 (I've been busy doing "birthday" and "me" stuff, it seems.. )\

She wrote about how, we each had God-given gifts, and it was essential that we find out what they were and do something about it. She was good in writing (and talking), she said, and while it may not necessarily be Pulitzer-prize winning, it certainly was a voice. She was a voice of her generation, and she needed to be heard.

She's pretty accomplished, that Sarah. She's "been there, and done that", she said, and has come out scarred in some places, but has healed and bounces back good as new everytime. Or better. I admire her spirit and candor. 

They did an interview with her one time and she put it up on her tumblr blog which i got to read (i don't have the link as of now). It was brief, and just in bullet points of certain things she was involved in and how she felt about her new roles in life and what she was currently doing.

:-) I liked the format. and I loved her style. So, in partial emulation of Ms. Meier,in a theme i have adopted, i present you with my birthday blog entry. :-)

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Birthday rituals? 

I have this thing that I try to do in secret each year. When everyone's asleep, and it's almost midnight (the first minute of every 13th of August), quietly as I can, I light a candle, stuff my pockets with money (LOL, and I do mean more coins that cash) and jump as high as I can, and do some stretches. And then I breathe a little prayer of thanks. :-) 

The jumping is supposed to make me grow taller, something i learned from New Year's day superstitions, which stuck on me. At 29, i don't think i'll still be growing any more new inches vertically, though. 

 After that, I wait for any "midnight greeters", people who say happy birthday at the stroke of midnight. :) This year, my cousin Dexter was first. :-p It doesn't really matter, because every new one excites me and gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside, to be remembered. After that, I usually fall asleep a little past midnight. (And then there'd be more surprises in the morning.)

Favorite things about getting a year older each time? 

I reckon it's a given to expect less presents as you get older. The brighter side of it is, you have a job that allows you to get yourself presents anyway. I still get a kick out of seeing something that I like in a store (if within a reasonable price range, of course) and just reaching into my purse or wallet and knowing that I can pay for it. Or, occasionally, going shopping with my mother and saying, "You want that? Here...(I hand her money.)"  LOL. Something like that.

Also, I took a long look at myself earlier in the mirror...i was in a tube top (underwear), denim jeans, in my bare feet, not wearing any makeup,my hair in all its wavy messiness, untied from the scrunchy i usually put it in. My hair was pretty new, but i kind of liked how it still had a bit of a wave even though the [artificial] curls from a year ago had all been chopped off. It was just the length i'd wanted (something I'd imagined when I was still 7 years old, in a perennial bob cut at ear level). Oh, and I'd shed the pimples that had plagued me in high school and college. And I could do the booty dance and be able to laugh to myself about it (although a bigger butt would be nicer.LOL). 

Growing a year older also means that you get to be more comfortable with yourself. I like that.

Ever fallen in love?

Yes I have. X number of times. :-) I suppose, just because I wasn't with anybody right now (and have been single for a while), some people would think that I never been in love or am too "career-oriented" to notice men. :-p That's not true at all. I DO notice men. a lot. LOL.

I guess I'm just "selective", and don't really fall so easily. And, maybe, if I don't... I won't, ever? :-p 

Many times , I've mused that falling in love was like finding the perfect pair of shoes. Lots of beautiful ones around, but you'll only get the one that "grabs" you, the one you feel you can't live without...with it, everything just "feels right" (and looks great with everything, if i might add).

Maybe I haven't really fallen as deeply as I should, because I never thought to put my dreams second, never to do something out of character for me for someone I was with. Like, be persuaded to move to a place just to be together. My priorities (and family) always came first. Selfishness, in a way...

Yet, I have to say, there was one time when I felt something, while looking deep into someone's eyes, and then realizing to myself, "Oh my gosh, I think I'd suffer through anything just to be with you..."But then I looked away, because it seemed pretty daunting a thought, and I suddenly felt so small and insignificant and that I wasn't good enough for the guy. (I'm chicken like that. )And so that moment came to pass... 

So, in the love department, this lady doctor's clinic door sign should read "waiting to be swept off her feet."

Ever had your heart broken? 

Yes. It wasn't pleasant at all an experience. I suppose, if I hadn't adopted the defense mechanism of "introjection", i would've dealt with it faster. (Yet people learn by experience.). At a certain stage, I do remember crying at night before I slept, praying that the hurt would go away...but then drying my tears and splashing my face right afterwards so that I wouldn't show up at work in the morning with puffy eyelids.

(Vanity, even in the midst of heartbreak. LOL. :-p)

But it's true, time heals all wounds, almost as equally as improvised "Critical Stress Incidence Debriefing" (CSID) (in Psychiatry) does (i.e. jabbering nonstop to close friends who have no choice but to listen to you). Still, it is a harrowing experience, and sometimes I wonder if getting all giddy again and being all Happy is worth the "crash" of a heartbreak.

( I'm scared shitless sometimes, really. And it's a very humbling experience.)

Name 3 favorite things.

1. Dean, my laptop. 

2. Financial independence. 

3. The freedom to choose my destiny. :-)

Best thing about your job?

It's never boring, and I love the satisfaction I get from doing the work that I do. It's tangible (especially the chubby, cute little kids and delivering babies), it's noble, and knowing that I have affected some person's life in a major way (that's good) always gives me a pleasurable high. 

On my birthday, I delivered a woman's baby, and I joked to her that the baby was going to be a lucky charm (and was going to be good-looking, haha) because it was Friday the 13th, AND it was MY birthday. 

There are downsides, of course. The government's system of running things is frustrating at times, and there will always be a lack in something or other (i.e.The thing about "non-hospital-based" ambulances will always get my goat.)

Yet, in my own way, i feel that I have given back my bit of service for my government-subsidized medical education. In those parts, not much was to be had, and I wanted to do my part and contribute. I mean, there may not be a lot of things happening, but at least I gave the best of what I could do.  

(*Bow!*)

No, seriously... :-)

What do you feel about failure? success? 

I'm not a big fan of failure. There was one time that I've failed because of stupidity (or, in my case, "gaga-ness") and I don't ever want to go through it again.  Success is great, and it always motivates. I don't feel as if I've totally accomplished what I really need to, though, so until then, it's still about work and  doing what you love to do.

What's your five-year plan?

I'm not at liberty to say... and besides, I always thought it was like a wish thing. If you tell people what your wish is, you'll jinx it. :-) 

Pet peeve?

Being asked when I was going to get married...because "everybody's supposed to be married at 25", etc etc. Perhaps I am in denial, but so far, I don't think I look old, and if I were going to get married, it would be because I wanted to (and not because I was 30 years old.) :-) I've talked about it so many times, it must sound like a broken record now, my apologies. :-) 

NO regrets?

Well, there are some. Like, losing a friend because of something I said (was made to say, actually), which I shouldn't have (and I so want to take it back). Or, taking my time when I shouldn't have had. Or just being plain careless on certain occasions...

Yet, despite all my shortcomings, things always have a way of coming together. The universe rights itself in different ways, and eventually, I end up in a state of being just thankful for having gone through different things. I have to learn everyday to tone down my impulsive tendencies, which have been better done as I've grown older, I reckon. 

So, lately, before I do anything of major importance, I make certain I have thought long and hard about it. Likewise, if I do say something of major importance, I make sure I really mean it. 

Bad/Worst habit?

The last-minute madness. Argh. Oh, and the fact that I can be stubborn. :-p

Future plans?

I love learning, and being on my toes so I don't get complacent. So, for now, I'm on continuing medical education mode. I have an exam later, and it's giving me the heebie-jeebies!

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The word "exam" is as good a wake-up call as any, which is why I have to wrap up this "interview with myself". :-p I don't want to seem pretentious and all-important (i.e. pompous) for doing this entry...I have a feeling I'd want to check this out in a year and see how I'll fare. :-)

Thanks for reading all the way down here to this point. You've been a great audience. ;-)

love,

S. 

P.S. The title is "What it feels like for a girl", with an emphasis on girl, because I figured I wouldn't have the gall to call myself a girl next year when I'm 30, haha. I'll be a...woman (of the world) by then? ;-)

Mind Games

There were only two of them in the past three months that I have worked at the hospital.

They usually come in around 2 or 3 in the morning, complaining about sleepless nights, bothersome thoughts, voices in the night, and well, a bevy of other things that you really can’t point out the source of the physical pain for.

Like the patient who showed up at the hospital while I was on duty the other night…

He was a tall and lanky young man in his twenties. Tanned and seemingly in the prime of his youth, head shorn almost bald, he came in clutching at his lower abdomen, his face in a terrible grimace.

“Doctor, please help…” said a petite, middle-aged woman holding onto his arm and looking all flustered. Judging from the way her hair stuck out from under her cap, her ruddy cheeks and long-sleeved shirt belted at the waist, I presumed that they had traveled from quite a while away, on a two-wheeled vehicle.

I had just finished with a patient that time, and wasn’t surprised at all when I saw them come in at around 3AM. Where I work (as with every other hospital around, I’m sure) there are days when people just won’t stay in bed to wait until morning for a consult, OR, that they’d wait for many days, “listening/feeling” their ailments, until of course, their folk remedies won’t work anymore, and that they’d have to seek help at the hospital.

(It’s the irony of life…)

The young man had been apparently well until about 5 days ago when he, according to the lady who stood by him the whole time, started acting…strangely. His father was also there, he stood behind the patient, his hand on the patient’s shoulder while they recounted the events of the past 5 days. The patient himself tried to tell me what it was that he was going through… For some apparent reason, there was a “force” that would seem to squeeze at his insides and shoot up and down his spine.

The blank look. The strange words. The restlessness. Parents who hovered, and were over-involved…

Mental illness.

I’m no expert, and in my 8 months practice in primary care, so far, I’ve only had three such patients who came in with such demeanors. They came few and far in-between, and usually, they brought a considerable amount of stress to their families, whose members almost always came in groups of 5 or more to bring the patient to the hospital.

But you can see how all this was taking a toll on the patients and the people who care for them. 

Grown men have come in tears because they don’t understand what is happening, they can’t stop “the voices” that were punitive and demanding, most times. Their families could not understand the sudden change in the person, or the episodes of violence, or the inner turmoil of confusion that the patients themselves are going through.

This patient’s mother was always within arm’s length, at the slightest grimace, the slightest twitch, the smallest shift in position, she seemed to be rushing to his side, always ready to give a “calming” touch, almost a caress, as if to give comfort. I looked at her face and saw a permanent etch of worry in between her eyebrows (as with the father), and understood that this problem wasn’t new.

As a child, the patient was quiet and withdrawn, the mother said. He was intensely shy, and for a long time would always have her accompany him in school. His premorbid condition surely wasn’t helping any.

I went through the motions of interviewing him and fully examining him, of course. “Doctor, he is not well…” his mother said softly to me, with a look that almost said, “Can’t you see he’s not well in the head?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I know…” I wanted to tell her.

Believe me, I know.

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Mental illness is not something I’d wish on anyone. It is a confusing, tumultuous state to be in. I have not had the experience myself, but I’ve seen people who have gone through it, many times.

It is expensive. It is painful. It is oftentimes confusing.

And, in most parts, it is feared.

Sometimes ridiculed.

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One percent of the world’s population will be diagnosed with schizophrenia at one point or another, as the books say. Considering the population, that’s a lot of cases, a considerable, significant prevalence of the disease.

Schizophrenia is synonymous with delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech, behavior that is disorganized. On one end, there is diminished flow and spontaneity of speech, lack of initiative and goals, and on the other end, there is (and I suppose the more common associations) the symptom set of;  ideas of reference (thinking that everything the patient hears on the radio or tv is meant for him/her), grossly disorganized behavior and delusions, and hallucinations.

This disease “has a lifetime prevalence of 1% in the entire population, but only half of those affected will be treated.” It usually sets in when men are 18-25 years of age, and women at 25 to 35 years of age, the prime of their life. Once diagnosed, patients are observed to remain chronically ill and some will have exacerbations and remissions, but there will never be a complete remission. There will be lifelong impairment in 40-60% of patients…and if that’s not enough, 20-40% of schizophrenics will commit suicide.

What a cop-out…

A person loses the best years of the prime of his life just because his brain chemicals have gone awry, or, as they say (but is not 100% proven) that he has bad genes, or that his environment was messed up…that, for me, is a rip-off.

What is a bigger annoyance is that these patients get an unfair persecution from the general public most times. People stay away from “crazy people”. It isn’t generally the patient’s fault, as is in schizophrenia, that the brain chooses at that opportune time to… well, fail, so to speak.

It is generally unfair.

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Anyway, lest I get too emotional, I have to say the real reason why I’m writing this entry. J

Just recently, I’ve decided to take a leave from my “paid vacation” of a job at the hospital I’m working in currently, so I could try to apply for residency training in Psychiatry in one hospital, and Neurology in another.

The brain, and the mind have always fascinated me.  Before, I always used to say that I was after “the stories” of patients in psychiatry, and wanted to be involved in the humanities more, but now, I’ve realized that mental illness in itself is a fascinating study.

The brain-mind marriage which is Neurology and Psychiatry was very attractive, and I thought I’d give it a go. Giving it “a go” seems so childish a way to undertake something so daunting, so I would have to recant that and say that I’m exploring my options and deciding to see if I want to make it my life’s work, my career path. My contribution to the world. My effort to make the world a better place to live in…

:-p

As I was telling a friend, I thought my top three list of things to do residency training in would be:

1.       Psychiatry – for aforementioned reasons

2.       Pediatrics – because, as a mentor would say, “Children are God’s most precious gifts… - Dr. O., who is writing me a recommendation letter, by the way, thank you very much! J), and because babies are simply adorable, and

3.       Obstetrics – because the “miracle of life” just can’t be beat… J  

One of my favorite residents keeps telling me that next to Psychiatry, all the other specialties would be second best, which is of course, understandable, because she is a Psychiatry resident herself… :-p

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When I tell people about this Psychiatry thing, they always ask me why so. I reckon, later in life, it alone wouldn’t get my children through International School, but then who knows, right?

I’m always up for a new adventure.

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Good morning!

~ S.

 P.S. I used Case Files: Psychiatry, 3rd edition by Eugene Toy and Debra Klamen, 2009, for some info i put here.