rewritethepast: (resignation)
My first death.

My first death.

I knew it would eventually happen, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. I'm not even in med proper, for goodness sake.

But I really couldn’t do anything; when we entered the ward area, they were already doing a cardiac massage and using an ambibag on the patient. My friend and I asked some nurses if the person was dying and they said that it was a normal routine thing. We were dubious (because the cardiac massage seemed so urgent), but we nodded and moved on.

After watching our nurse (whom we shadowed for the day) do nasal feeding (which I have discussed weeks ago), we went to someone’s hospital bed and helped in cleaning her forced wound. I say “forced” because the lady had a tube inserted in her body (and I mean that there was a large long tube that entered her side; the tube’s cross-sectional diameter was nearly the size of a 25 centavo coin) to help drain phlegm from her lungs. We used betadine, soaking some cotton balls in it and applying them to the area radially outward from the wound. Then we heard it.

I’ll never forget that sound in my whole life. I swear I’ll never forget it.

It was a desperate, disbelieving cry that tore at my heart and broke it into a million pieces. The four of us looked in the direction the sound was coming from and it was a woman clutching the body of the patient we saw earlier getting a cardiac massage who was screaming and crying and...

I remember the words the nurse we shadowed told us when we asked her if the patient was dead; they burrowed deep in my mind and my heart and echo in my ears as I now try and solve stoichiometry problems as practice for our Chem Departmental Exam this Saturday.

“Oo, normal na yan. Pag bago ka, iisipin mo na sana may nagawa ka pa para buhay pa siya. Pero mawawala rin iyan, nagiging normal nalang.”

When I shadowed a nurse in Ward 3, he told me that he would always remember the day a patient of his died (the first one assigned to him who died) – December 22, 2005 (well, either 22th or 24th – my memory is going bad again). He told us the same thing: the first patient will always be the one burned in one’s memory.

I keep seeing the scene play out in my mind. The woman screaming as she held the patient and the nurses going about their business like nothing life-changing had happened. Some of the patients looking on from their own beds and others just asleep or otherwise uninterested.

The four of us assigned to Ward 1, looking at it from a short distance and not being able to do anything at all.

I couldn’t have done anything. None of us could. The patient had so many diseases (we read the Clinical Abstract but couldn’t understand the doctor’s/nurse’s handwriting) and has had labored breathing for a long time already, a medical clerk told us. The patient had so many problems, some of them dating back to 1998. We just came when it was Code Red already; we were there when her life was extinguished like a finger does to a weakened flame.

The nurse told us that cardiac massage was a normal procedure and there was nothing to worry about, yet when I researched it using the internet later I found out it is used when the patient had already gone into cardiac arrest. Perhaps it is normal in this ward… I don’t know the death rate of patients in PGH. Maybe they didn’t want to scare us… we looked so young compared to the interns and medical clerks and everyone else surrounding us.

Eventually the woman stopped crying, and a nurse appeared to detach the stuff hooked up to the patient. White dividers were placed around the bed, and the nurse did her work like she’s done it a hundred times before. Maybe she has.

I didn’t even find out her name.

I don’t know why, but that seems important.

I hate this feeling of helplessness. I was nothing but a spectator to this death, which may have been normal to the veterans of PGH yet has changed the life of the woman crying because of her. I know I’m just a first year student. I know I couldn’t have done anything to help.

Yet I still hate myself for not being able to do anything.

I don’t ever want to feel this again. I don’t ever want to watch a life snuff out right before my eyes like this again, with the world having to quickly return to normal.

But I know I’ll feel this again, I’ll feel this a thousand times even as I become more learned and understand more the medical explanations behind each death, each life-threatening disease. I think my heart will still break with every death I witness, and my world will be thrust into darkness and I’ll struggle to break free so I can try again to make a better myself to try and prevent any more of this. The cycle will go on and on and on and eventually death will become familiar to me.

I hate this feeling.

But I’d rather feel it and hate it than feel nothing at all.

***

Would it had been better had I not seen it today?

No, it wouldn’t.

I would be happier, yes, but it’s better to see it now instead of pretending that the path I takes leads to many more situations where nothing more can be done, where lives just flutter away like a butterfly with wings.

I’ve been wearing a blindfold in Intarmed. Sometimes the blindfold slips down and I catch a glimpse of something yet it fixes itself and I can continue my life like nothing had happened.

I feel that right now the blindfold has been yanked off, my eyes seeing exactly what the world has in store for me.

I don’t think I want to find it and put it back over my eyes again.

***

This is for you, Nya :)

Well, and anyone who wants to see my jellyfish stuffed toy with my newly-acquired shrimp stuffed toy :)

The cnidarian and the crustacean (?). )

***

It's a superduck :) )

***

And why do we play with them, subject them to stimuli that would be considered inhumane had the subjects been like us? )

***

Belated happy birthday Kel-san ^^

And advanced happy birthday to Anne, my fellow legal classmate who’s the only one older than me in the whole of Intarmed.

***

It was a fly’s wing. )

***

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Yay strawberries!!!!

Infinitely more healthy than what I normally eat (cup noodles, fastfood offerings and potato chips)!

***

Sometimes I wish you’d read my blog.

But then I think that it’s better that you don’t (to my knowledge) because you might think I’m obsessed with you and what you think of me.

I’m not.

I just wonder what you’ll think of me, comparing the me expressed with words and the me that interacts with you and making a conclusion as to who I really am.

I wonder which one you’d prefer.

***

One week to go before it's the day again, and I wonder if I'll forget about it with the numerous requirements that threaten to engulf me.

Yet I don't think I can forget, because it may not be tattooed on my skin yet it's made an indelible mark on my soul.





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rewritethepast: (sad)
Today, I got robbed.

You know what I lost? Not my cellphone (which is admittedly old but still is a cameraphone), not my wallet (which is admittedly ugly and old), nor my room keys (eh?).

Let me retell the story so that I will laugh at it when I'm old and my straight hair is pure gray. (Hopefully LJ won't crash or anything by then.)

I was in Robinson's Place Mall, walking towards National Bookstore with Joan's handouts (a Math and a Hum one - the Hum one being a short story) in my hand (since I needed to xerox them), when suddenly this tall dark-skinned guy holding a yellow sotanghon cup (with chocolately substance inside, oddly, not sotanghon), bumps into me hard and walks off at a fast pace. (My hip still hurts from it.) I feel something tugging at the papers (the handouts) held by my thumb at that brief instant, but I don't realize what happened exactly. When I come to, I enter National Bookstore and look for the photocopying machine. I find it, and I notice that the Kom handout is missing and it's only the Math handout in my hand.

Now, I didn't think of the guy automatically. I backtracked all my steps and found no Hum short story. Yes, I even asked Customer Service. Gaaah.

I dazedly go back home and check my things. Yes, the Hum short story is missing. My cellphone is still alive and well. My wallet is still intact with the correct amount of money inside. My keys are still present. My handbag isn't slashed. The Math handout is still alive and well (but unxeroxed).

I'm not sure exactly if it's Sotanghon Cup guy who stole the handout but I guess someone did at that moment. (Because I think I had the handout before I reached that side of the mall.) There's no other reasoning behind it, unless I just imagined the tugging at the papers or the handout vanished into thin air.

And thus is my first erm, experience of being robbed actively (I did get some of my stuff stolen in Pisay, but they were stolen while I wasn't around).

Waaaaaaah. I have a feeling my family will laugh at me this weekend. My sister told me that one is lucky if one survives a year without getting robbed in Manila. And now I have been robbed. Of Joan's short story.

I swear, my life is definitely odd, stupid, laughable if it weren't my life, or an indeterminate combination of the three.

And I needed to read that short story for tomorrow! :( It was the unedited version with the sex scene we must analyze! (I only have the edited copy in my Hum book, the one with the cut sex scene.)

Good evening 2007, this is definitely an odd year.

***

It's been a week and two days since you first texted. It's been four days since I gave you my final answer.

In three days, I'll make my final move. Don't say I didn't warn you, because it's been a long time coming.

Not that I think you read my blog or anything, but our mutual friend deserves an explanation. And I don't trust anything coming out of your mouth or thought of by your mind.

***

Warning. Not as gruesomely descriptive as the last entry, but still. Read when not eating? )

***

Sure enough, there was an earthworm on the rug. )

***

The memories of all the fires I watched from the Pisay oval last school year came back to me in a flash when there was a fire at the Supreme Court on Monday. I didn't actually see the fire but I did see five fire trucks whiz past the Robinson's Place Mall heading in the Supreme Court's general direction. Apparently its Session Hall was the one with the fire, and faulty wiring might have caused it.

I don't know if this is a freak accident or if it was intentional because apparently some cases which are to be heard by the Supreme Court will be postponed because of said fire. I just know that when I passed the Supreme Court at around 9:40 pm later, the Supreme Court building looked very very wet. >_<

***

When Cybill, Joan, and I passed our College (College of Medicine Building otherwise known as Calderon Hall), there were a lot of media present - you know, reporters, microphones, cameramen, the works. We three wondered what had happened. We tried to observe for a while, but we saw nothing in particular.

Apparently, this is what happened. )

When I decided to go to school here, I didn't think that there would be so many newsworthy things of this nature... I mean, there are protests here all the time (especially since we're near the Department of Justice, the Court of Appeals, the Supreme Court) and there are always TV crews and all but these are weird things. And I guess these things don't happen in other places.

Hmmm. Going to school here is definitely not boring.

***

I think I better stop now before my head hurts again. I wanted to write more, but I think I described enough med-related stuff for today.

Last thing: I miss Jman's entries. :(
rewritethepast: (determined)
As today is supposedly Livejournal Fake Day (or at least what's left of it, anyway) I shall make up a lie.

(And no, that's not the lie. But am I lying now? Brain sprain, darlings.) Let me call on the literal meaning of my username and say this: What if? (I repeat, this is just speculation. There are many lies in this work because of the nature of the date.)

And obviously, this is somewhat based on what happened here, here, and here. (Except those are 95%-100% true.)

Let the lies begin, and there we go. )

The truths and the lies in the story, enumerated to make it simple. )

Ahh. Now that that's out of my system, I need to go sleep. Or not.

(I think I suck at this lying thing, because there's still a lot of truth in it - at least the gut emotion in there, not to mention all those little insecurities that burn at you late in the night and make you wish for a sledgehammer. At least it was an attempt at lying. Think of this as writing practice, Raine.)

***

[This is written past 12:00 am, so no more lies. I'm just a lazy person when it comes to changing the time and date of my entries.]

Today, rather, yesterday was interesting. I have discovered that I like Cherry Marble from BTIC. :) And there's a promo, 2 scoops in a waffle cone for 60 pesos. (Pimp.)

Gbox is fun. :) Joan, Dingdong, CJ, Nil, and I played games there and racked up 235 tickets. We claimed 210 for a Sakura keychain. :) It's funny that the kiddie-ish version of basketball shooting gave out more tickets than the hardcore one. >_<

It is suspicious that one of my classmates ate at Sbarro's for lunch. Alone. At Sbarro's. And when he showed up for NatSci, he was wearing a pink shirt as opposed to his earlier white shirt (seen worn at Sbarro's).

Actually, something juicy happened but it is not my place to tell it. Let me just say it involves a wild-goose chase, a Neji keychain, a small pouch bag, and three tired people, one of which is me.

Actually, I'm just too tired now. >_< I'll talk about it on Sunday or later or something.

Telling lies is harder than I thought. Spinning them so that they seem a bit believable is harder. >_< I hope this doesn't happen again next year. (I'll just ignore whatever [profile] frankthecomic says.)

***

My KOM teacher wanted us to find GROs for his subject (and for whom, maybe?).

Good job, teach. O.o

***

There is this guy who claims to do scientific palm readings near the Supreme Court. He's sort of like an institution at UP Manila, supposedly.

Normally, when I pass by his erm, sidewalk space, he doesn't have a customer. This Monday and Tuesday his business was brisk (everytime I walked by, he had a customer - I pass his sidewalk space going to GAB, going to get lunch, going for afternoon classes, going home). On Thursday and Friday, he was gone all day. (He did leave his sign and chair though.)

Exactly how do you read a palm scientifically??? (Well, I've read that someone with soft palms is probably a lazy person - like me, I guess, but that can't be all of it.)

***

On Thursday morning, when I walked to GAB there was this little stream of blood on the sidewalk. (Ok, not little. Enough to be creepy.)

On Thursday afternoon, it was still there, and drying.

On Friday morning, it was still there and almost dry.

On Friday afternoon it was pretty much completely dry (and powdery).

I don't really want to know where/whom/what it came from. I know I heard something suspicious on Wednesday night but...

***

I really am tired and will now retreat and watch anime now. Or sleep. Or something.

January 2008

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