It’s now 2:50 a.m., November 5, 2011. I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep without getting my thoughts down into writing.
It all starts about me revisiting the place where my hearts burning passion came to be.
Last Wednesday, November 2, All Saints Day, I had to accompany one of our priests to the hospital where my family is part-owners of (for those of you who know me personally, you might know which hospital I’m talking about.) Many years ago as the new site of the hospital was still being constructed, I was Grade 5 back then, my late Father and the president of the hospital had a long conversation about my future and how I could be part of his then dream of opening up a medical school. I was eager on learning about it as it would just be a few meters away from home, but the thought was just that of a mere grade-schooler. Then a few years would pass and I was already in my Second year of High-School. My Dad had been a frequent patient in the hospital, making that twice or thrice a year (yes it was frequent because he’d have long durations of confinement.) Anyhow, I saw the value of what it mean to be as a medical practitioner or a “whatever” in the hospital. But I knew that I wanted to become a doctor. Some people have told me in the duration of my Second year in High School till my Fourth Year (when decisions of what degrees we’d want to take up), that I shouldn’t go into the Sciences or even medicine if I can’t handle it or if I have a certain perception of things, or, even the patience for studying long hours in a day, sometimes they would they even say that it would be very expensive to study medicine. It didn’t matter to me. I knew that I had the drive and passion to be capable of extending care to patients and well, even trying to save their lives. It’s not about the money or the prestige of having the title of Medical Doctor or MD at the end of your name, it’s the about the years you spend learning about Medicine, Patient Care, and giving value to their needs above one’s own.
Side note: I know a lot of people who go into Medicine sometimes for the wrong reasons or maybe, because it’s the “best choice” at the moment or because “my entire family are doctors” or because it’s the most stable thing anyone can do because you get to help people get well. But in the middle of it all, it’s either the passion for the craft is there and that everything else becomes secondary, or they become full of it and lose their patience or cool, and then quit altogether. But! There are some who really have the drive for caring for others, not many, but there are the best ones who would do anything to make sure the patient or those in need and taken well care of.
Going back to my story, I saw those people who stood out and really cared for my Father way above the expectations of many. They tried their hardest to be the best they can be for their patients and really trying to go beyond their means just to help them. So there, my Father being confined how many years of his life, I promised him, that I will try my hardest to fulfill what we had talked about many years ago. I tried my best to keep that promise when I was choosing which school would be the best, and what course I should take, etc.
In my Fourth in High School, just as we were getting our results for the universities we took an exam for, I failed in many aspects of what my goal was. I failed to strive harder to reach my dream. But ‘lo and behold, I just decided to go where my gut was telling me. I ended up in DLSU bearing a future Political Science Major whatever on my back. I decided that I’d finish my degree in Political Science and then just take the prerequisites that I needed for Med School. It was waiting for me after all. This was all back in 2009. But, in October of that same year, my family and I would find ourselves in the hospital each day till November 16. My dad got rushed to the hospital for Pneumonia. He was a very emergent patient, but he had a cardiac arrest upon his arrival. It was the worst arrival ever because we didn’t know what to expect. When it was time for us to visit (as he was brought to the hospital early in the day), I found him hooked to so many machines (being intubated), them trying to preserve all his organs by freezing him, since he was under a coma — October 1. Going ahead of this story, everyday we would be in the hospital, he was in the ICU for 46 days till he passed on November 16. In the span of that 46 days, we’d encounter different doctors and our close family friend doctors. I knew then that that is what I really wanted to end up doing. Seeing how much empathy they had for us and for my Father and doing all that they can just to save him. It was tough, and I won’t go into detail any further. It’s just going to hurt. Though, the images of each day are, and till the day I die, will be embedded on my mind. But yes, it was with those doctors and seeing my dad in his state that I did and still do want to become a doctor.
Fast tracking 2010-2011 and present, I felt as though I was hitting rock-bottom in many ways. Education was important because I loved my Major. But I started getting sick myself and everything else seemed to be more distant. I wanted things that were different from my original plan. It was a far cry from where I was before my Father died. I felt that Church was more important than anything else. And indeed, it is. I felt more complete because I needed to put back pieces of myself that I knew was drifting away. This was one part of why I had to leave school. I decided to take a gap-year and see where I am heading. I decided to dedicate my year to the Church and to God, trying to live for Him as best as I can (especially with my new responsibilities in the Parish and trying to get everyone back on their toes). It was a wake-up call that I really needed. Though sometimes I know that I am failing and falling so hard that I just can’t find the reason to stand up.
Going back to where my story begins, because 2011 is nearing it’s end, and I need to decide on the path that I should take, the revisitation and reminder of where my dream began woke me up so hard that I can’t stop thinking about what I should really do. I’m a year older and I know that I’ve made a lot of mistakes that I know, I regret, being in the hospital just hit me hard in the head. I know that God gave me an opportunity to be in a better place for now, but I realize that He’s telling me to get back up and that I still need to finish what I started.
On November 16, it will be my Father’s Second Death Anniversary. It’s been hard on my part losing him the most because I lost the one man who motivated me in pursuing what I love. I fell rock bottom because I felt I wasn’t doing my best. Getting sick (for natural reasons) but also because I felt that I was losing the will to live. I was so confused. I guess, I really needed to revisit the place that I called “home” because it was home to me. I understood everyone. Doctors became my friends, they motivated me to strive hard, gave me tips on how to proceed and succeed, and that everything should be lifted up to God because it’s His plan. In remembering why I love that place so much, where my dream was born, I pray to my Father and Our Lord, Jesus Christ that they give me the strength to get back up and give me the courage reach my dream because it is for him that I am doing all these.
~ended 3:37 a.m.~