In Memoriam

Thirteen years have passed, yet the memory is still vivid. It was June 26, 1999, I was only 11 years old, when it happened. I have heard the saddest news I have ever received in my entire life.

It was past midnight when our whole house was awakened by the barking of our dogs and by someone shouting outside our house, calling my father's name. After a few minutes, we have recognized the voice to be my father's uncle. Papa and Mama went outside only to see Lolo Edgar talking while crying, a weep which can easily be described by anyone who can hear it as hurting inside, especially if it is from a man.

I followed my parents as they go outside the house. I trembled upon hearing the bad news. No! It can't be! I have just misheard him! But upon seeing my father and mother's reaction, the tears falling from my mother's eyes, and the closed fist my father had, I realized I've heard the right thing.

My father immediately changed his clothes and went with Lolo Edgar to go to the hospital. Mama and me were left speechless, with tears falling mercilessly while praying that the news we have just heard isn't true.

We were never able to sleep after that. We went to our Lolo's house only to see a heart-breaking situation, with my lola walking back and forth, her handkerchief almost soaked with tears, my youngest aunt who is usually vibrant is sitting in one corner, looking blankly at the people coming, uncle Jayson who loves to tease almost everyone is unusually silent. Even my great grandma and grandpa is there, and my lolo's brothers and sisters, crying their hearts out. My lolo's house was suddenly jump-packed with people, people who have also heard the news and who wants to verify whether it is true or not, and with people who wants to give their condolences to us.

My Lolo--whose kindness exudes from within, whose love towards his children is immeasurable, whose passion to love and to take care of his grandchildren is as vast as the sea, whose ability to deal with different age group of people comes out as natural as the flow of water in the riverbanks, whose perceptive in life influences every people he talks to, whose love to help his fellowmen is as great as the sun, and whose resilience is as firm as the Statue of Liberty--was hit by a bus and was left dead on the spot, with ribs broken. It was twelve midnight along the highways of one of the busiest street in our locality. He was riding his bike from helping a friend whose son will be getting married the following day. He was with one of my uncles driving separate bicycles each. My uncle said that he was reminding lolo to take care and be on the side always, and according to him, that is what lolo did. On his third time in reminding him, he wasn't even finished speaking, he heard a loud crash, accompanied by darkness (lolo is the one bringing the large rechargeable flashlight that is why he is behind my uncle). When he looked back, he saw the flashlight down the road and a speeding bus. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get the bus' plate number.

And fate of all fate, the bus bears my name! Isn't it an irony that I, his eldest grandchild, whom he had first shown his grandfatherly love would have the same name as the one who killed him? With his death, I have felt the greatest loss among his grandchildren. I was the eldest, and my cousins and siblings were very young then, who have not fully comprehended yet why death happens. Why him? Of all people, why take the person who is very kind and loving?

As a child, I remember him as a great person, and as a great grandfather to me, my siblings and my cousins. During those times, me and my sister were often left at home when mama and papa goes to the neighbouring province to attend to our farm. We would stay in their house and sometimes, it would take a week or so before my parents would go back home. He would help attend to our needs, would play with us, and has lots of stories to tell. During idle hours, even if lola will reprimand him for using the television for long hours, he would ignore her, only because we are enjoying watching whatever the TV program is. During Sundays, he will wake me up early so that I could join him and lola go to church. There was  never a time when he's with us that he hasn't showed his love for us.

When he died an unexpected death, our hearts died with him. It took years before we have finally moved on. Sometimes, even just talking about him made us cry.

It has been a hard time for all of us. Even our neighbours had a hard time forgetting him and his kindness. There was even a time when one of our neighbour is crying while drinking with my father and uncles during the first year death anniversary of lolo. He is telling them the story of how his life was changed just by meeting my grandpa.

The driver of the bus was never caught. Up to this time, we are just hoping that God has already punished him for what he did.

In any ways, I am still thankful that I have experienced being loved by a great grandfather. I am sure he is happy wherever he is, looking upon us. He had left us not a fortune of golds, but a fortune of good memories. 

We miss you 'tay... We will always love you.

*cries*

You Already, Uncle Mike!

It's been a while. After we have graduated in college, me and the complete gang were never really completed again. If ever we will have that get together, it's either one or two will be absent. Well, we cannot blame anybody. We have different lives now. More complex as compared to the ones we have had in college. And distance is one major factor as to why we cannot be completed again.

Way back in college, we've shared lots of precious memories. Not to mention the ones me, Joyce, Bryan, and Mike shared during high school years. Those memories are still intact at the bottom of my mind. And I think, in their minds, too. I can still remember how we have struggled together to finish our degree, and how we have helped each other during those moments.

Reminiscing those days yesterday with Mike made me feel as if I'm back to college days again. I've never laughed my heart out as I did yesterday for the past four months that I'm here in Saudi. My tummy aches with laughter everytime one of us throws a joke or remembers one funny event. 

Talking about Mike's getting fat, and I'm making a funny comment of his big belly and telling him to do exercise.

Here starts Mike's jokes about Ate May, how Ate May will enter the class in a not-so-good mood...

And how they will make fun of Ate May as if they're back to elementary years. From Ate May, the conversation shifted to Bryan and Joyce..

Even me had not escaped from his funny comments!

Am I really that strong? :p

From that kind of conversation, we suddenly became serious regarding our relationships with me and my beau, and him with his girl. He even commented I'm really still young with regards to relationships (talk about you being expert about that, Mike...:p). Well, I'm still in the process of learning, you know... haha! 

Mike's being "crazy" has not faded. He's even became worse! 

The transformation... haha! Peace mike!

That more than an hour of chatting has not filled up the days we're apart. We still have lots to catch up, stories to tell and laughters to share. For now, let's leave it as it is. I will hear more from you, Mike! Miss you!

Happy Father's Day, Papa!

You aren't perfect. Too far from being perfect at the very least. There was even a time when I would sulk in the corner of our house and bitterly weep, "why of all fathers, you're unfortunately mine?" That was during those times when we're struggling to live a normal life in spite of all those hardships. But looking back, I am very happy that you are my father. You may not always support my every decision, but your principles in life made its way to help me mould the better me.

I am very thankful for all those words of wisdom you've given me, for all those scoldings everytime I get way out of line. I admit I am not the best daughter either. That is why I have all those words from you. But I swear, I did not do all those things in purpose just to make you feel bad. Maybe it was just part of my growing up years.

When I see how you fondly look after my little sisters and little cousins, I always tell myself that maybe, that was how you look after me when I was at that same age, things I cannot remember clearly anymore. But I can remember clearly those times when you would tuck me in bed and kiss my forehead, those years when I am still afraid of the dark and you will say you will be by my side even after I wake up.

I remember clearly your proud expression everytime I go up the stage during my elementary years, and you are the one pinning my ribbons and medals, and how you would boast to your friends everytime I get small achievements. I can remember the pride on your face when I gave you my college diploma after I say, "Pa, this is for you" and I can remember the most your expression when I broke the news to you that I am already a registered nurse.

You may not always tell us that you love us, but it shows. How you struggle to be the best provider you can be may not be the best for others, but I can see your effort. I can see how you almost kill yourself working at the farm we do not even own, and how you would get lowly every time floods would hit our crops, but I also see the strength in you, standing up again after all those storms our lives have faced.

You and mom are always included in my prayers. That He always give you strength, good health, and good life. For now, aside from helping you send my siblings to school, that's the only thing that I can do for you now that I am miles away from you.

I told you I love you lots of times when I was young, but I didn't think I have told you those three words lately. So I would like to take this opportunity to say it again. I love you. I know you always yearn to hear those words from your children. We may not always say it, and our actions may not always convey so, but you will always be in our hearts.

Can you believe I'm crying now? The first time I have cried since I arrived here in this foreign land. I know you would scold me again if ever you will see my tears without any reason. But I just realized, I'm missing you badly. I always tell myself to be strong, because I have no one but me in here, but my strong facade is slowly melting away. I guess I need you to build up that strength again..:(

Happy father's day, Papa! I love you and I'm missing you!

Of Yellow Gown, Mask, and Gloves

Eversince I started my duty here in the hospital I'm currently working, I have been itching to take a photo of myself in complete personal protective equipment (PPE). So here it is: 

Smiling even wearing a mask, huh?

This was taken during one of night duties while preparing to do the bed bath of one of our bedridden patients. Thanks to chechi Shylu for gamingly taking this shot..:)

Nurses--Professional Housekeepers?

I took up nursing not because it is what I want to be in the first place. I took it up because of the promise of a greener pasture in the near future. But, alas! I have suddenly loved the profession even after just a few days of exposure to patients during our first year's second semester.

And so, I made up my mind that I will be a good nurse, that maybe, this is really my calling. I did and I'm still doing my best to be the so-called angel of the sickroom, as what nurses are oftenly referred to. I graduated not with flying colors but with the hope of being able to touch lives. I took up the Philippine Nurses' Licensure Exam and while waiting for the results, I worked as a private nurse in preparation for the workload ahead if ever I passed. Less than two months later, I was one of the lucky few who have successfully passed the board exam.

My first job as a private nurse is worth the experience. I have learned a lot. And when I say a lot, it means a lot (haha!). I worked 12 hours a day, sometimes becoming 15 hours because I still have to help the incoming duties with transferring our patient from bed to wheelchair and forth. And sometimes, staying 3 straight days without going home and having only few hours of interrupted sleep. I was actually adamant on doing that job because I know what private nurses do--giving patients' bath, removing feces from the patient's body, changing diapers, and all that. But I don't have a choice. I don't want to stay at home without doing anything, and I cannot apply to hospitals either (the results of the NLE was not yet released yet during my first few days as private duty nurse).

Going back to my "learnings", I have learned the art of having a good  relationship with my patient's old maid daughter. Maybe you have an idea what attitude a typical old maid have. And yes, she is like that. Whenever she reprimands all of the nurses around, even those who aren't there, just smile. Let her words come to your one ear and out to the other. I mastered the art of cooking there. Yes, you read it right. I cook! I didn't signed a contract and I was also not oriented to my job description so whatever they tell me to do, I will do it. I cooked, washed the dishes, sweep the floor, do the bedmaking, do the make-up of our patient (there's not a day when our patient doesn't wear any make-up even she's just at home), prepare and mash by hands our patient's foods, select her clothes according to the weather and time of the day, and the list goes on. These happened for three months, that I asked myself, is this the job I want? Although I started to feel the connection between me and my patient and my co-nurses, I still feel there's something better for me than this.

Good thing that my application as staff nurse in a 14-bed local hospital was accepted after my three months of being a nurse con alalay. I actually submitted my credentials to the different hospitals within our locality but it's either they don't have any vacancy or that they still have other applicants on the line just waiting for their call. At last, I can really practice my profession. I have dealt with different emergencies, including stabbed wounds, vehicular accident, convulsions, name it. But a small hospital that it is, I still searched for a more rewarding experience.

After eight months of being employed at that hospital, I gave my resignation letter, asked for an employment certificate and tried my luck at the busy streets of Manila, hoping to be employed in one of its big hospitals. I almost lost that hope when after few days of going from one hospital to another, I received the same answers--either they don't have any opening, they are not accepting applicants as of the moment, or they are needing volunteers, not staff nurses. Then one day, my aunt whom I stayed with at Malabon told one of their neighbours that I am applying for a job as staff nurse. That neighbour told me to go to one of the nearest hospital in our place because somebody is going to leave. That hospital is where her daughter, now in Saudi, worked before. She gave me the address and on the next day, I gave my application letter and credentials at the said hospital. After more than two weeks, I already started my duty as a nurse-trainee, and afterwards, after one month-and-a-half, I was already one of their staff. I can say that my experience at that 28-bedded hospital is a rewarding one. I have been assigned as ward nurse, ER nurse, OR on-call nurse, nurse-midwife, and sometimes, a nurse attendant! Everyday is a learning process.

I have loved more my profession. There's nothing as rewarding as seeing your patients going home, bade their goodbyes and saying thank you to you. But life is really hard, we have to admit it. When the demand is greater than the supply, we have to look for another source of supply. That is why I have applied to different agencies, hoping to land a better job abroad. I have been hired by some of the agencies I have applied with, so I was able to select which hospital have the highest salary offer. And I landed at my present job today. My first day at the ward gave me the shock of my life when one of my mentors showed, rather taught me how to change the diapers of our bedridden patients. "What? I am going to do that???" I asked myself silently. Never in my wildest dream that I will be doing the changing of diapers and cleaning the feces of my patients here in this country. I have applied as a ward nurse, not as a caregiver or private duty nurse. Good thing I have my previous experience in changing diapers and removing stool. The succeeding days gave me the impression that nurses here are considered maids by most of the patients. "Sister, make me some tea." "Sister, turn off the television." "Sister, heat my food." "Sister, I need to talk to the doctor." "Sister, blah,blah,blah." Things that they can do theirselves but still needs to ask for the nurse to do it. 

One of my colleagues even said, "If in the Philippines, people regard nurses with high respect, you cannot expect it from here." I am really not complaining with doing that kind of job, but the they must also consider that they are not the only patients we are handling.

I think I must just be thankful that they are like that, because if not, no nurses will be needed here anymore, and no jobs for nurses will be opened here. What would happen to the Filipino nurses then?

The Angel that is Still Is

Just recently, we have had a 19-year-old patient who gave birth through caesarian section to a baby boy. The baby is her first born. But instead of being happy just like any other new parent, this patient felt the other way around. Her firstborn is diagnosed with Pentalogy of Cantrell. 

What is Pentalogy of Cantrell?  Pentalogy of Cantrell is a rare congenital anomaly characterized by defects in the closing of the supraumbilical abdominal wall, in the anterior portion of the diaphragm, in the diaphragmatic pericardium, ectopia cordis, and intracardiac defects. It associates diaphragmatic and ventral hernias, hypoplastic lung, and cardiac anomalies such as transposition of the great vessels and patent ductus arteriosus. It may be associated to other anomalies determining the variants of this syndrome. (www.humpath.com)

This photo closely resembles that of our patient, plus a heart beating normally  over the chest area.

I would just describe the baby’s condition in layman’s term. He is pinkish in color, with good cry, and with a good activity, that he got a perfect APGAR score. But you will easily notice his heart which is located outside his chest and a sac enclosing his other organs outside his belly (omphalocele). Omphalocele is a type of abdominal wall defect in which the intestines, liver, and occasionally other organs remain outside of the abdomen enclosed in a sac. That was the first time I have seen a true heart beating. 

After the baby was born, routine newborn care was done, and was maintained on oxygen. The baby’s attending physician referred the baby to one of the country’s biggest and highly modernized hospital, but after a few hours, the baby was brought back to our hospital. The relatives of the baby said that the hospital where the baby was referred to told them that the baby won’t last even if surgery will be made. Surgery might just shorten the baby’s life. The attending physician did not lose hope.  Another referral was made to another specialized hospital, but the parents were asked Php 200,000.00 deposit. With no assurance that the baby will survive after the surgery and no idea where to get that amount of money, they made a very hard decision: to just wait for the baby’s life to end. Painful as it is, but they think that they have no other choice.

The hospital made its way in order to help them, including explaining thoroughly the baby’s condition,  but they have made their decision. So, comfort measures was the only option left for us. On the baby’s second day, he started showing symptoms of stress. He became slightly cyanotic, and vomited many times. His activities and cries also lessened. And during my shift, on his 3rd day, 20 minutes after my last vital signs to him, which was within normal range, the father reported to us that the baby became bluish and the heart which was covered with sterile OS soaked in normal saline no longer beats.  The baby aspirated his vomitus after vomiting just before I left him. The vomiting might be due to another congenital anomaly on his intestines.

No further medical attention was done due to the signed Do Not Resuscitate waiver.

While doing my post mortem care, I made this thoughts: If only money is not a problem, he could have been saved. If only his parents were optimistic, ways in order to raise money should have been made. Who knows, the child might have been the next NASA Administrator or the UN Secretary General in the future.

The baby lived for three days. Those days could have been enough for the parents to change their minds into not giving up the life of their child.

Sigh…

N.B.: This is a reblog from my previous blogsite. This happened December 2010.

One Hundred and Twenty One Days

I was awakened from my deep slumber by the ringing of my handphone. Thinking it was my alarm clock for five o'clock in the afternoon for me to get ready for my nightshift at seven, I glanced at my wall clock only to see it was only five minutes before two in the afternoon. I then realized based from the kind of tone that it is not an alarm, rather, a call. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, and with my eyes half-closed, I checked who the caller might be. An unfamiliar local number here in Saudi greeted me on the screen. Because I have saved my workmates' numbers on my other phone, I thought one of them might be calling me. Wondering what the problem might be, I pressed the answer button and talked in a still sleepy voice, "Hello?" A male voice answered on the other line, and to my surprise, he is speaking our dialect! He said, "Hello. Kumusta na ika?" (Hello, how are you?) I scanned my mind who among my fellow Bicolanos here in Saudi the caller might be, but to no avail, so I asked, "Isay adi?" (Who's this?)

"Inuunga mo kung isay ako?" (You're asking me who am I?)

"Amo. Isay ika?" (Yes. Who are you?)

"Di mo ko bisto?" (You don't know me?)

"Diri. Isay ngani ika?" (No, I don't know you. Who are you really?) I answered half-annoyed because I wasn't expecting that kind of conversation from a man I didn't think I know of, to think he is disturbing my precious sleep!

He introduced himself but I cannot understand him. After a few exchange of "ako si #@%&" (I am #@%&) and "hah?" (what?), he ended the call.

Exasperated and curious who the caller might be, I prepared myself to go back to sleep and counted mentally how many hours is left for me before I get up. I am pulling my blanket up to my chin when the message alert tone of my roaming phone bleeped. Now I was really furious. Who the hell is disturbing my much needed sleep??? I picked up the phone and my sleepiness suddenly evaporated upon reading the message from my boyfriend, "Bah, ako po so kausip mo." (Love, I'm the one you talked with at the phone.)

Whuuaaattt??? I jolted out of bed and rechecked the caller ID, thinking that maybe, I just mislooked at the number a while ago because I was still sleepy. But no, it was the same number as before, a Saudi number. Then a thought suddenly came into my overly imaginative mind. "Is he here in Saudi already? Is he going to surprise me?" My heart leaped with the idea. But I also contradicted what I have thought, knowing that he still needs a year or so experience as staff nurse in order to be hired in hospitals here in Saudi. I asked him in our dialect, "why are you using Saudi number?". Then came another ringing of my phone. This time, it's not a Saudi number anymore, but the word "Private Number" flashed from my phone's screen. Then, I was talking to him, the man whom I'm missing for the past four months that I am here in this foreign land. The man who wants to raise a family with me. The man who calls me "princess, mahal, baby, bah". The man who is not really my ideal man, but because I love him so much, I deleted the word "ideal" from my vocabulary. The man whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. The man who always says I'm his only love and nobody else...

My custom-made picture for our day...:)

Now is our fourth monthsary, if ever there's a word monthsary in the dictionary. That call got me by surprise. Thank you very much sweetie! Though you disturbed my sleep, it won't change the fact that I love you so much and that I'm missing you day by day...

xoxo!

<3


N.B.: According to one of my colleagues, situations such as that (Saudi number appearing to calls coming from the Philippines) sometimes do happen.