I've always loved donning the white coat and seeing patients, walking the hospital hallways and holding the charts. So returning for three more years of punishment, sleepless nights, stress and torment in an Adult Cardiology Fellowship was just about right for me.
For those not in the medical field, after four years of medical school, and a life-changing board exam, comes residency in specialty field of choice. After that comes another certifying exam then onto a fellowship into a subspecialty in the field you originally specialized in. Then comes another exam and sub-sub-specialization, you get the drift. It is a long and arduous process that does not come with the wealth and prestige most people think doctors have. But rather a long road of training, reading books, examinations, sleepless nights and tears that others don't seem to get.
But I do this because I love the work. I love being with patients.
In my interviews for my neurology and cardiology applications, a staple answer I gave when asked why I chose these particular fields, was that I love puzzles and I love to figure them out, and I love working with people and talking to them and building rapport and working relationships. Thus, I always pictured myself forging on in medicine -- through residency, fellowship and subsequent studies to be the best doctor I could possibly be.
It's not about the money -- never was and never will be. But being compensated enough to be able to have my family and I live comfortably is the goal.
Fellowship is an acquired taste and is not for everybody. Right now, I have to contend with residents lost in the nature of their job (I'd like to think I wasn't that hopeless when I first started out), more responsibility and specialized books to read, and not to mention all the intrahospital and intraspecialty politics that doctors have to deal with.
So here I go again, another 3 years of echocardiograms, angiograms, CABG's, ECG's and angioplasties.
All in the hopes that at the end of it all, I'd be more confident in seeing you come through the clinic doors as my patient and having you walk out the same way, feeling a wee bit better for having seen your friendly neighborhood cardiologist.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
To Ashes
Somehow, Ash Wednesday took on a whole new meaning for me and my family last February 13, 2013.
At around 3 pm that day, I took out my phone to take a call from my sister, and she said ," Nong, do you know?"
I looked up from peering over a patient's chart and said, "No. Wala. Why? What?"
"Our house is on fire. It's burning down along with Tiya Fely's and Tiya Intay's!"
"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, immediately getting up from the chair and heading for the empty stairwell. "Are you guys ok? Is anybody hurt?"
"Everybody's ok nong, but our house is mostly gone. Most of the second floor is gone. Mama's room was the first to go, as well as all of our rooms. But what's important is we're ok. Jassen got out in time and right now, we're going to buy milk for Luke."
Still in a state of shock, I could only manage to ask "Ha?!"
"Yup, nong. It's okay, we'll call you later for more details. We're going out to buy Luke's milk because we don't have any here."
Our home was gone.
The place I grew up in -- the halls were I ran through to greet my parents when they came home, the porch where my grandparents used to sit on their rocking chairs to talk to us grandkids, the ancestral home by all of us who grew up in and around Dumaguete City, burned down last Wednesday.
Allegedly, the fire started from our former neighbor's empty house directly 2 houses in front of ours. It had recently been sold and had been mostly empty these past few years. But apparently this didn't stop a group of local teenagers from raiding the wires and melting these to retrieve the copper inside. Not only were they trespassing to get these, but having a jolly good time with beer and glue.
Long story short, their fire ended up burning down 5 houses, including ours.
No human lives were taken, which is great, but our two dogs perished. My nephew hasn't eaten since the fire and keeps on saying "Go home?" My almost complete Hardy Boys collection has gone up in smoke, I think, along with a host of what I referred to as my mini-library.
But all is not lost. I came home this weekend to find my family in good spirits despite everything we've been through. These past few days, we are reminded of the value of family and friends -- all those who have extended themselves to us through prayers and aid and consoling words -- and we, collectively, owe you and offer you our deepest gratitude. Thank you for standing with us in our hour of need.
The house is in shambles, mostly gone, but the family that shared that home and memories spent with them will stay with me and these will withstand the strongest of fires.
At around 3 pm that day, I took out my phone to take a call from my sister, and she said ," Nong, do you know?"
I looked up from peering over a patient's chart and said, "No. Wala. Why? What?"
"Our house is on fire. It's burning down along with Tiya Fely's and Tiya Intay's!"
"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, immediately getting up from the chair and heading for the empty stairwell. "Are you guys ok? Is anybody hurt?"
"Everybody's ok nong, but our house is mostly gone. Most of the second floor is gone. Mama's room was the first to go, as well as all of our rooms. But what's important is we're ok. Jassen got out in time and right now, we're going to buy milk for Luke."
Still in a state of shock, I could only manage to ask "Ha?!"
"Yup, nong. It's okay, we'll call you later for more details. We're going out to buy Luke's milk because we don't have any here."
Our home was gone.
The place I grew up in -- the halls were I ran through to greet my parents when they came home, the porch where my grandparents used to sit on their rocking chairs to talk to us grandkids, the ancestral home by all of us who grew up in and around Dumaguete City, burned down last Wednesday.
Allegedly, the fire started from our former neighbor's empty house directly 2 houses in front of ours. It had recently been sold and had been mostly empty these past few years. But apparently this didn't stop a group of local teenagers from raiding the wires and melting these to retrieve the copper inside. Not only were they trespassing to get these, but having a jolly good time with beer and glue.
Long story short, their fire ended up burning down 5 houses, including ours.
No human lives were taken, which is great, but our two dogs perished. My nephew hasn't eaten since the fire and keeps on saying "Go home?" My almost complete Hardy Boys collection has gone up in smoke, I think, along with a host of what I referred to as my mini-library.
But all is not lost. I came home this weekend to find my family in good spirits despite everything we've been through. These past few days, we are reminded of the value of family and friends -- all those who have extended themselves to us through prayers and aid and consoling words -- and we, collectively, owe you and offer you our deepest gratitude. Thank you for standing with us in our hour of need.
The house is in shambles, mostly gone, but the family that shared that home and memories spent with them will stay with me and these will withstand the strongest of fires.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
This Season
It's been a while.
This December has been unlike any other in all the years I've been fortunate to celebrate the Yuletide season.
First, the apocalypse is reportedly near. The Mayan Calendar pegged it on December 21 of this year and that is 6 days from now. Nostradamus has this prediction involving a calm morning, a dancing horse, and a couple of circles that insanely sounds like the beginning of a bad joke but at the same insane time, eerily comes together.
Second, I'm somewhere where I get to do what I love again.
Third, and most important, is that I have this pair of beautiful, round deep brown eyes that look up from the most adorable pink crib. She brightens my day when she breaks into a smile or giggles, and she gets me to bolt up every time she cries. As a doctor and as a father, I kneel down and say a little prayer every night that our little one be safe and sound, and that faith tides me over.
Life doesn't really follow how we think we want it to be. It is written by His hand with beautiful cursive handwriting, not in block letters, mind you, but long drawn out cursive strokes that end up with the most amazing story that is only ours.
These past few months have been representative of that. I am partly afraid, because I've seen so much in the couple of years I've spent on this earth and partly thankful, for the many things He has given me, my family and mankind.
I don't know if December 20 will be the last day of humanity. I don't know if I'll ever build a good practice. I don't know a lot of things.
But I do know, I have people who care enough in this world to be friends, that the gift of family is a precious thing, that doing what you love matters, and that at the end of the day, it's about being thankful with what you have.
This Christmas, it's all been about that.
This December has been unlike any other in all the years I've been fortunate to celebrate the Yuletide season.
First, the apocalypse is reportedly near. The Mayan Calendar pegged it on December 21 of this year and that is 6 days from now. Nostradamus has this prediction involving a calm morning, a dancing horse, and a couple of circles that insanely sounds like the beginning of a bad joke but at the same insane time, eerily comes together.
Second, I'm somewhere where I get to do what I love again.
Third, and most important, is that I have this pair of beautiful, round deep brown eyes that look up from the most adorable pink crib. She brightens my day when she breaks into a smile or giggles, and she gets me to bolt up every time she cries. As a doctor and as a father, I kneel down and say a little prayer every night that our little one be safe and sound, and that faith tides me over.
Life doesn't really follow how we think we want it to be. It is written by His hand with beautiful cursive handwriting, not in block letters, mind you, but long drawn out cursive strokes that end up with the most amazing story that is only ours.
These past few months have been representative of that. I am partly afraid, because I've seen so much in the couple of years I've spent on this earth and partly thankful, for the many things He has given me, my family and mankind.
I don't know if December 20 will be the last day of humanity. I don't know if I'll ever build a good practice. I don't know a lot of things.
But I do know, I have people who care enough in this world to be friends, that the gift of family is a precious thing, that doing what you love matters, and that at the end of the day, it's about being thankful with what you have.
This Christmas, it's all been about that.
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