It was after Christmas when I received a call from Dr. Philip Cruz to join the toy giving mission among pediatric patients in Metro Manila through an organization called the Guardian Angels of America.

A ray of hope flickers in the sky

And like most volunteers, I actually came for the free toys. It was a selfish motive I know and yet when I saw Winnie the Pooh's bouncy friend, Tigerr, I wanted to get one for myself. That is of course until I met Rachel - the girl in the picture.

A tiny star lights up way up high

It is a typical story and you probably heard it before. No money. No nothing. Brought in the hospital for cough. Diagnosed with some sort of blood carcinoma after the laboratory tests. Sad story. Typical sad story.

A silent wish sails the seven seas

I think she must have seen my Tigerr because she was staring at it. So I eventually gave it to her - the most cherished of all the toys I had that day.

The winds of change whisper in the trees

She smiled a little. Half grinning but enough to make her father notice.

And the walls of doubt crumble, tossed and torn

Her father thanked me and I went on giving gifts to other children.

This comes to pass, when a child is born.

I suddenly remembered that Christmas is not about me. It is about them.

I bet you have it too. Promises we dare utter so as to pass the board exam or have a love fulfilled. It's human nature that when face with an insurmountable task, we retreat and pray with our most frail gestures to the God of small things.

And so it was with great humility that I bowed my head and prayed. Promised that I would visit their graves. Honor the past, honor God if they would help me pass the board exam which I did, thankfully.

Of course, if I failed, it would have been another story. Curses would have been hurled. But I did not. And looking back, knowing the stress of studying for the medicine board exams, those prayers actually gave me the confidence to do the seemingly insurmountable.

So dedicate again this ode. For the new year and the years ahead. My simple thank you, to the great spirit of my ancestors, and least I forget, to the God of small things, for helping me, no, for making me a healer of sorts.

It will probably take me a lifetime to understand where this path will lead me but all I need to know, all I ever needed to know, is that this is the one for me.

Although I have been staying in Manila for quite sometime now, I have never ever been to Quiapo. So when AMDA and Manila Chinatown Lions Club invited me to a medical mission in Quiapo, I said yes.

I don't know if you can hear me. Or if you're even there. Yes, I know I'm just an outcast and I shouldn't speak to you

Armed with my stethoscope and positive attitude, I took an FX and stopped by what was the most magnificent edifice, old as manila itself, the venerable Quiapo church.

Still I see your face and wonder. Were you once an outcast too?

What followed was the demise of civilization.

God help the outcast hungry from birth.
Show them the mercy they don't find on earth.

I should have just prayed in the church or the nazarene then again I was always inquisitive. Always wanted to know the stories of these people. Disease. Death. Because I wanted to help.

I ask for wealth. I ask for fame. I ask for glory to shine on my name.

Or make people need me.

I ask for love I can possess.

But the stench was deafening. And I can only pray that the one day we spent there was enough to give them a blessed Christmas.

Please help my people. The poor and downtrod.

Away from their worries. Away from their sad stories.

God help the outcasts. The children of God.

Descamesados is a fascinating word. It means poor. Lowest of all. Most vulnerable. Most unspeakable.

Beyond redemption.

In a medical mission last December 13 in pandacan, I saw her. She was one of them. Lowest of all. Most unspeakable. A child whose eyes could not hide the pain and the struggle - the most impoverished. And yet there is something haunting in those eyes. Something grand.

Mother claimed she had yellow colored sputum and fever. Temperature noted at 38 degree centigrade. There is a reddish discoloration on the anterior chest wall probably a birthmark. Symmetrical chest expansion, no retractions, lung fields are harsh.

I started her on amoxicillin 250mg/5ml, weight times MKD times 5 divided 250. Gave her a prescription of carbocisteine and paracetamol for the fever. It was afterall the only available drug in the medical mission.

A yes the birthmark. I knew it looked familiar. Reminded me of Lisa. She is just like Lisa you see. One of my addictions. And those eyes. How can I forget them? They have the very same eyes.

So unsure. So scared. So angry.

If only I could her that everything will turn out fine in the end. If only I could tell her that I am always going to be there for her.

Lisa does not understand too. She is just like my dark cherub. She does not see that every time I watch those eyes, I also see her.

There's a story in this picture. One of innocence I suppose. Surprisingly though, this picture also reminded me of something else. Something about my childhood.

Boystown is a residential care facility for the underpriviledged male children from 8 to 18 years of age. Honestly speaking, these are the children nobody, not even their parents bothered to care for.

It is this facility which is my next pit stop towards finding meaning and touch.

His name is Jason - the boy in the picture. And his story was just like any of them. There is sadness in him. Loss. And yet for someone so young, there is also happiness and joy. He showed me his matchbox, excited, telling me that he had a small spider who died after losing a game. Then just like that, I remembered what it was. What it felt like. Yes, losing my first spider. You see, I used to play that game.

A long long time ago.

So there it was. Jason and my first spider reminding of something I almost forgot.
I have come so far from playing with spiders. I have lost a lot of battles and won a few. But just like Jason and his spider, I've learned to cope with losing.

Time will come when I will no longer remember Jason or this facility. He will be just another patient whom I will treat, and I will be just another doctor who will treat him. So before I forget, I want to dedicate this prose for him. I want to thank him for reminding me what it was during friendlier times.

I want to thank him for making me believe that a young boy who once played with spiders can actually become so much more.

This is not a story. Or something profound like a poem. Still there is a need to post this. An Eyeball of doctors and for doctors held last September in Serendra somewhere in the Fort. Don't ask how I got there, I was just dragged there by megamom.

So I was just there sipping tea with megamom who, I have to add was so nice since she virtually sponsored our eyeball courtesy of Abbot of course, when I realized I was actually doing something good for the community, albeit it is an online community.

You see when I first started this blog, it was suppose to be only for my dark cherub. For her to realize how much she meant to me. How I was willing to give my life, my entire existence for her. Unfortunately, she never saw that. And I finally realized she will never see that. So instead, I wrote about about my other addictions hoping that others may understand what I went through. Hoping that others may understand that in the end, love is no more than an addiction.

But it was fascinating that I also met interesting people. Through my search for meaning and touch, I met doctors who write and see medicine more than what it is.

Like the seafarers of old who see beyond the horizon.

And in a way I am grateful that my personal essays, addictions, and insecurities can actually be a bridge to meeting these extraordinary people.

It was pure nonchalance when Dr. Primy Chua invited me to join the Gusi Peace Prize last November 24 at the Meralco Theatre. Naturally I said yes. Feeling close with the powers that be has its quirks afterall.
So I went and I was even more fascinated with the people I met. The Gusi Peace Prize is a foundation which seeks to give honor to distinguished individuals with exemplary contributions to peace, human rights, medicine, and the performing arts. It sounds very much like the Nobel Peace Prize or the Ramon Magsaysay award and you're probably right it is pretty much the same.
Ambassadors and famous personalities abound the place and I was honored that I had the opportunity to talk with one of the laurels for Medicine Dr. Harold Lindsay Thompson of Australia.

And what I witnessed was beyond me.

For they were ordinary people who simply believed in our common humanity. And in the end, I understood that it was not the titles even though they were foreign ministers, diplomats and presidents, rather it was the kindness that was more important for them.

The kindness in the face of HIV, Malaria, Poverty and Social Injustice. The kindness in the face of all aridity and disenchantment.

Something that I know will take me a lifetime to understand.

It was suppose to be a simple medical mission - we were just to examine the patients, give the medicines and leave the place. Fate however had other plans for us.

While going to a medical mission last November 22 for the Aetas in Bataan, our front wheel exploded. Literally dragging us to the side of the road. Although no one was hurt, we were all shaken. But what was interesting was that the ambulance we were managed to stop directly in front of a vulcanizing shop with a small eatery.


So we stopped by the eatery, had sarsi and hansel biscuit to pass time. We talked, all of us and shared what was an epiphany of stories. And one by one our wall shattered, and in that brief moment, 5 complete strangers became so much more than friends.

It will have to be reserved for now. The story will have to be shared in another time. Perhaps for my grandchildren or when I become too old, too cynical to believe in fate or in love.

Rest assured that I will keep with me the memories of those 5 strangers, those curly haired children, and those voices who never give up in the belief that there is still hope for the Filipino people.

I may never understand life the way my professors taught it, but maybe, just maybe it is the pit stops, the journey that makes it all worth the while.

ThAt's It. I'm Throwing it all awaY
Old papers... Notebooks... Letters... PaPerClips...
No Need To KeeP ThOse ThiNgs
This is my stop.
No more dArk Cherubs, MaNgo PasSion Fruit, OreO CheeseCakEs
PePerMint Mocha anD Lea SaLoNga SoNgs.
SoMeBodY CuRe Me oF ThIs AdDicTion
BeCausE It No LonGer FiTs my LiFe.

I'm GiVinG the Rest To CHaRity. WhOeVer She Is.
AnD HoPe She'lL HaVe a GooD LaUgH.
To BooKsalEs. No MoRe TueSdays WIth MOrrie
WhAt was I thInkInG?
LoVe anD Other DemOns? In TiMe Of ChOleRa?
No MoRe IcE CreAm CasTles for Me.

So PleAse sHut The DoOr. ShAke oFf the DuSt.
I'Ve fInalLy maDe My DeCisIon
to WaLk thE PaTh ThaT lAy BeFoRe Me
InTo The Dark FoReBodiNg NiGht

WheRevEr thAt May LeAd
I kNow It iS the RigHt pAtH

It's TiMe To StOp BeInG whO I wAs
ANd ChAnGe InTO BeIng Who I aM

It started with one passionate kiss in AbS-CbN.
And I didn't know until it hit me. That she was my lifelong dream.
The one great love I was suppose to possess.

Listen to me. Talking about possessions.
I found it fascinating that I can be dramatic and flamboyant
That I can write about her like I understood her
For although she shared her body to me, she was never mine.

She already belonged to someone else.

Of course I could have fought for her. Stole her.
Like Paris and Helen cavorting in the middle of the night.
Away from Meneleus. Away from those pathetic laws that binds us.
But I could never again covet another man's wife.

It is a sin. A sin punishable by the Almighty.

So I let her go again. Like those butterflies
Like those seraphims and cherubs.
Like those mango passion fruits.
Like all my other addictions

Even when it hurts. Even when my heart seem to break into a million different pieces
Knowing that the great almighty will reward me -
In due time. With a love so beautiful even the angels will envy me.

It was a lazy monday morning when I decided to go to Philippine Medical Association (PMA) to fix the CME points our organization has been trying to add. While arguing with the secretary on when I will be having the result of my CME points accreditation, I got a call from Dr. Primy Chua, the adviser of AMDA and past president of PMA. It seems that PMA was also holding their 105th foundation day that exact day I was there and so he invited me to join him.

I agreed almost in an instant.

And it was captivating. All the people I had the priviledge of knowing were brilliant and I guess, still interesting after all these years. The President made a passionate speech on how he wanted to make PMA relevant to the present crop and his aspirations were even more laudable. There's the indigent clinic wherein PMA members can now avail of the basic Xrays and blood exams annually and there is also a fund that he spearheads which are suppose to benefit us when we become old. Although his thrust is making sure we are protected, he wanted to make sure that we get the benefits while we are still active members of society. He also wanted to make the membership compulsory for all practicing physicians.

It is interesting because for the past few years, we haven't heard anything substantial from them except of course the Teri Hatcher incident. And I guess it's about time they make PMA relevant to us.

There are really hard core issues we as doctors need to address. The generics bill, remnants of the Malpractice bill, the reproductive health bill, the food supplements which seem to appear rampant in our healthcare system and the perennial question of "why the hell should I stay in the philippines when I can earn more money in australia?"

The PMA has its shortcomings I guess but in their defense, they are doing their job to the best of their abilities. I use to complain that their not doing anything but now it seems that the challenge should not be just in them but in all of us physicians. That as members of the healthcare community, we be more up front, be more strong, and be more assertive in dealing as well as in demanding our rights as physicians and as human beings.

This is the third time we made love -
I know, it's pathetic for a guy to keep scores
But it seems that is the only way I can keep in touch with her.

She is a radio technologist from the new world
And she has many lovers. Many songs in her name.

For she can inspire and she can also drive men mad
Like children of the moon. Like children of the damned

So I took all her clothes and hid it from her
That one night in my bed
To remind her that I am in control

To humiliate her.

But she could not be humiliated
Could not be reviled. Could not be shamed

For her innocence was endless
Like the moon. Like the damned

So I simply held her in my arms
Thanked the gods that I had another night with her
Keeping in mind that among all other things

She is also a hunter
Like her sisters

Like all men
Like me

I've forgotten how to write you know
But it seems I cannot leave PGH without writing about you
About the people who worship you
and about the people who believe in you

You see shadows have never been my element
For I used to believe in the light
But try as I may, the light betrayed me
The same way the darkness did

So I searched for other colors. Other shades.
Other hues. And I found you.
I found you in that small room in OPD Ultrasound
Playing with your curls
Playing with your hands

You made me believe that there was more to the shadows
That the world can be seen through them
That the shadows can be beautiful

Even when eyes can no longer see
Or hearts can no longer remember

It was always midnight when we see each other
Always under the pale moonlight
Where we made love like no other
Where I made her scream my name
Over and over and over again

Mandarin cake
My dear twisted mandarin cake
I still crave your sweet lemon lips
Your beautiful tongue as it searches for things
that are forbidden
Things that should never be spoken of

Never mind that we made love in your palisade loft
Never mind that we made love while your children were asleep
in the room next door.

She sacrificed her life for my happiness.
Like the man in the crucifix.
She loved me long before I even knew myself.
And it was too late when I understood,
That I was her addiction.
Her most precious obsession.

I met Margaretha in one of those late night parties in Singalong Street. And there was instant "bells on a hill" magic. She fascinated me. And I fascinated her. But something was amiss. Although she was perfect, I was not perfect for her. So I kept her out of my mind, hoping she will forget me. Hoping I will forget her.
But then something drew us together. Like the statues of saints and virgins. Like the sacred relics and sapphire rosaries that reminds me of jasmine scent. That reminds me of what is beautiful and everlasting.

I did not want to let you go Margaretha.
I do not want to let you go.
I want to forever be your addiction.
But you wanted to forget about me.
You wanted to stop loving me even for a moment.

I have never been fond of the shadows because I never wanted to hide.
But it's different now. The world is different. So much has happened and I feel I need to forget about these addictions. There are rules now. Rules to be followed and respected.
If my mentors could see me now, they would be ashamed of me.
Cast me in the dark waters where they molded me.
For they taught me to fight for what was right, honorable and true.
And I was suppose to replace them
When it was their time to retire.

But I was reckless.

I burned the world around me.
I, who thought knew everything.
Who thought knew the nature of these addictions.
Who played with fire like I was her master.

Was finally burned to the ground.

So I have to disappear for now.
Fade in the shadows
And allow the darkness
to shelter me

She stood at the back of the ship hoping to see the last glimpse of him. The sun was starting to set. And soon she will have to face the treacherous spirits which abound these waters.
Her prince did not see it. He did not know the sacrifice she made just so she can see him. How she offered her voice to the sea hag in exchange for one day that she can be with him. Or how she rebelled against her father for one stupid kiss. Abandoning what was suppose to be her duty, her birthright to rule the seven seas.

Yet she understands everything now. Perfectly. And she's not afraid anymore.
It doesn't matter. Just let them come.

And so she dove, head first. To be devoured by those ravenous spirits.

Towards the ancient ocean where she promised her undying love. Where she saw a force so powerful it overwhelmed her.

And in one final gesture, the great spirits of the ocean offered her a place where she will forever be remembered - among the waves and the gentle song of the seagulls.

It is true what they say, you know. When you are at the lowest point of your life, these beings comfort you and make all those demons disappear. Vanish and just like that, the world becomes new again and beautiful.
When I was mugged a long long time ago, I met her. She was a law student back then and her life was legendary. Like the great Archangels who saved paradise from the Light Bringer. She was one of them. More powerful than the cherubs. And more beautiful than the devil.
She taught me that I should file the robbery charge even though they may never catch the one who mugged me because it was now a crime against the state and not the person. It was fascinating how she argued her case. And naturally, I fell in love. For she was my protector. My avenging angel.
We would go out and she would bring me to those fancy restaurants all expense paid. To theaters and CPKs and it was always the same. She would regal me with stories about people who went through their lives fighting for what they believe was right. And I would watch her strike down those demons like it was her duty, her obligation to rid the world of the unjust and the unholy.

Until I realized I did not need avenging anymore.

I stood by the bedside staring at her naked body. Trying to remember who she is. What she is. A dark creature. No more no less.
So I tried to kiss her. I wanted to get it over with. Make love to her so that my addiction with her will end. Then again something held me. A voice inside begging me to wait. That patience is a virtue and it is not yet time for us.
So instead of making love, I told her I love her. Like what I tell my other playmates when the night becomes unbearable and they start to see the man behind the mask. I also told her of my obsessions and how they can become twisted and crazy at times.
I was lying of course. For someone who has seen what fire does, I know deep down that love is no more than an addiction. It burns and pretty soon it will loose its meaning. Like obsessions. Like the tingling feeling that rubs you off your flesh. Yes, all addictions given ample time will eventually dissipate. Disappear. Like Cotton candies. Like butterflies in your stomach.

And yet this night was unlike any other night. This dark creature in front of me was different. So I have to offer her something more than vile flesh. For we are bounded together by more than flesh, or love, or friendship or any of those dark imaginings. Bounded together by something old.

And just like that. I remember what it was - the promise I swore a long time ago in Batangas. For with the sea as my witness, I stupidly made an oath to GoD that if he ever gave me the heart of this dark cherub, I will forever be his servant. Once a year, I will spend my time with charity. Whatever that meant for me. I was reckless of course for using an ancient spirit like the ocean to bear witness to my addictions.

It's a good thing it hasn't happened yet. It would have been a binding deal.

So I simply held her hand. Kissed it. And let her hugged me like it was the last night of the world.

I left Laguna knowing that some promises should never have been made. And yet as I was staring at her with the spaghetti and meatballs and the lemon flavored iced tea that night in Hotel Sofitel, I was suddenly scared.

For here in her small gesture, she was already giving me her heart.

In tiny bits and pieces.

We walked passed old buildings and scenic views in UP Los Banos I didn't want to be reminded of. Then again she was persistent. So I conceded. The Old CAS building. Baker Hall. The Carillion Tower. The YMCA dormitory. Places I used to find fascination with.
I was a great guide, she told me. I suspect she must have not had many guides before. Or she was lying. Like what I usually say whenever I feel the need to please someone.
But then in that picturesque moment, she did something uncanny.

She shared her Lemon flavored Ice tea bottle with me.

And there it was again, for someone who wanted to find meaning in such simple gestures, it meant a lot. That she was sharing her life with me. That she was giving me permission to know her. In tiny bits and pieces.

And I was fascinated.

It was a bad night to start with. There was an eerie feeling when we boarded the bus. Something I didn't understand. But I went anyway. Besides it was my friend's birthday party. I have a filial obligation. A duty of sorts.
So I went back to where it all started. In UPLB. In a place where life began for me. But this time, I came prepared for I was with my dark cherub. The most precious of all my addictions.
Halfway through the party, I began to imagine how incredibly boring life would have been if it weren't for these people. Although most of them were from the next generation, I still felt some sort of affiliation. So I gave my advice to the next generation and laugh when I had to to.
Until my dark cherub shared with me her spaghetti and meatballs plate.

And it was there in that moment, I realized I did not own her.
She owned me.

There's this song I really like listening
every time I'm alone again.
No one to turn. No one to go to.

Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now

And everytime I listen to that song.
I remember Vanessa.
Those rows and flows of angel hair
And the way her head falls gently over my chest.

She was always looking for something grand
Something I couldn't quite comprehend
And I guess it was of late that I realized
It was meaning she was searching

Not sex,
Not love,
And certainly not addictions

So I dedicate this ode
For her longings
For those moons and junes
and ferris wheels

And for her dream of finding
those ice cream castles
in the air

I tried writing about you Dimsum
Countless times
Changed my stories every single time
Because at first I thought
It was the green CRV
that had me hooked.
Or the free dumplings you gave me at Tomas Morato
Or the fact that you had alabaster skin
Like those pretty schoolgirls of Assumption

But you were never from that school
In fact it was from some fancy school I didn't even know
Which lead me to think
That just because you had a green CRV
And you had alabaster skin
And powerful friends
I thought
You were rich and powerful
And intelligent
And kind

But I was wrong of course
Bad judge of character
So I write today about you
thinking
My God what was that all about

You did not give me anything to write on Dimsum
No idiosyncrasies
No habits
No longings
And certainly no addictions

It is always fascinating to her Dr. Rebosa talk. When I was still a medical student, I remember his lessons on how to escape those kotong cops by mere wit and charm. Of course, I could never be as lawyerly as he is. I mean he rocks.
So anyway his topic was very much alive even at 8 in the morning. While most delegates were busy making coffee, he was actually discussing all the things that I thought I already knew as a physician. Apparently, as I eventually found out, I still lacked exposure with the real world.
Case 1. A doctor was handcuffed and detained by the police for allegedly conspiring to kill a patient in front of the media that is. It was horrible because of the fact that even the NURSES were included. And somehow when Dr. Rebosa talked about it, I can't help but feel the pain of the doctor. Is this how we are being portrayed? Don't we have rights? Are we even aware of our rights as doctors?
Case 2. An anesthesiologist settled with a 7 figure sum for allegedly causing comatose to a patient.
Case 3. A cardiologist also settled with about 4 million for allegedly ordering a treadmill test and while the patient was on the treadmill, the patient apparently died.

I know, those non doctors are thinking but somebody just died. Who is responsible? Isn't it the doctor? Alangan naman the patient pa? Or maybe the technicians who didn't do anything while the patient had chest pain.

Complicated I know. Because the first premise is that doctors are not Gods and second and most important, there is no such thing as 100% in science, even in diagnosis. So it's really tough. And when somebody files a lawsuit on you, it will take its toll. Heavily. Besides the fact that you were not able to save the patient who trusted everything to you, you get to deal with lawyers.

So his answer? Defensive Medicine. And refer. Yes, refer those Pilosopo Tasyo's to those classmates you hated in medicine. I mean he was right is saying it is just not worth it. Four hundred pesos for a lawsuit waiting to happen? Good riddance.

There I was listening to him talk lawyerly about the present predicament of doctors when I suddenly realized, sooner or later those cases that I just read about will happen to my colleagues, or even to me. And soon the Dr. Rebosa's of the world will retire. When that time comes, who will defend me? Do I even know my rights? And my obligations?

Interesting times. Especially with that ABS CBN reporter lambasting Filipino doctors left and right. I do hope she really understands what she is fighting for. Or that she realizes the implications of her actions. Because it is easy to say that you are fighting for truth with just one experience of a loved ones death.

But it is altogether another thing to actually understand suffering and seeing people loose their loved ones magnified thousands of times. From leprosy to Tetanus to HIV. Like what we experience every freaking day of our duties from clerkship, internship, residency to even being consultants. Is she even aware that we are at risk or acquiring PTB, Hepatitis, HIV and a whole lot of diseases she just even reads about?

She does not understand. Like all those before her, she thinks that by spending a segment on Pulmonary Tuberculosis she will know what Tuberculosis really is all about.

She does not comprehend that it takes more than a big mouth to carry the caduceus.

I went to a convention today. You know one of those nice snippets where they get to present all these latest advancement in technology, science and treatment modalities. I actually just went there because I was expecting to get a pillow but there were only these pens and bags and a whole lot of crap.
Then halfway through the convention I got interested. I think because there was all this talk about infections. Oh you know, those sexually transmitted infections. Hepatitis, HIV you name it and they got it. And it was weird. Weird because the speaker seems to be stating statistics and there was no clear discussion on treatment modalities. Does he realize that HIV has become a chronic disease as of 2008? Or that it's not actually a death sentence anymore. Unless of course you don't take those antiretrovirals and we know you'll eventually end 6 feet underground.
So I guess its fine to go unprotected sex once again. I'm kidding of course. Wear those condoms please. Other physicians reading this blog might think of me as renegade doctor. In the same league as those who advertise sillimarin capsules or Athro. I mean I wouldn't want to besmirch the reputation of the Filipino physicians. Besides, those antiretrovirals really cost a lot. I mean A LOT

There is hope he said. I like his last message and the power point presentation. But the weird thing was that he seems to believe that abstinence is the key to preventing the spread of the disease. A for abstinence. It was really like this kindergarten song. A your adorable, B your so beautiful.
Is it just me or are we back to the middle ages once again? What ever happened to condoms?

There's this other thing he mentioned that made me smile. He said the Lewinsky-Clinton thing can also spread the disease. I was smiling because I was thinking if there was really a study done on that. I mean those who prefer Oral sex proceed to Room 1 and those who do not like oral sex to Room 2. Would you choose Room 1 or Room 2? Or both? Assuming of course the real deal is in Room 3. So you know how hard it is to make up a conclusion about sexual practices right? We can't just enumerate all these practices and say, this causes that. It has to be backed by evidence. Everything these days has to be backed with evidence.

Please understand that in the end, medicine is an ever-changing science. And that what we practice today will eventually change. I mean Vioxx used to be very in before but with now we don't use it anymore. Or remember the weight reduction drug Adifax?

To those non physicians who read this blog please understand that doctors are also human beings. Meaning they also get scared of what they do not understand. I mean I got scared when I saw my nth case of Meningococemia few months ago. But we are mandated by our conscience and our laws to show compassion at the very least.

I hope something exciting happens again tomorrow. So at least I can get my 2500 worth of membership dues.

It started with Annie. The sun will come out tomorrow kind of Annie. Although her name was not Annie. And just remembering her, clears away my cobwebs and my sorrow. She really did clear away all my cobwebs, at least for a time when I was alone in Laguna.
When I was alone with nothing but sad letters and pathetic love songs, she introduced me to her family in Alabang.

You see she wanted to take up Medicine and I also wanted to take up medicine. She wanted to conquer the world and I also wanted the world. We were almost the same. Very much the same. Even in our fears.

Then my day begins with simple thoughts of you. Hoping that tomorrow will be me and you.
Sharing dreams with each other. And making them come true.

So I cornered her. That one night in Bioscience. Almost made out with her. But there was also other forces at play. The UP Police roaming and I guess I too was not ready. I was still afraid of what it might do to us. To me. And she was contented with being just friends.

I've known you for so long you are a friend of mine. But is this all we'll ever be. I've known you ever since you are a friend of mine. Babe is this all we ever could be?

So I just told her things she'd never known. But hid the fact that I was in love with her. So she went on and had someone else. Someone who was famous and who also wanted to become a doctor.

All those sleepness nights . All the tears I've cried. All the pain I've kept inside.
Was it just a dream that you said to me. That there was someone new in your life.

There were moments when I wanted to die for such a betrayal. To end my misery. Unrequited love is the worst of its kind. Why couldn't she wait for me?

But when I'm stuck with a day thats gray and lonely. I just stick out my chin and grin and say
the sun will come out tomorrow so I got to hang on 'til tomorrow.

And the sun did. After passing the boards, we saw each other again. We are both physicians now. But there was nothing there. No more butterflies in my stomach.

So while the song still brings that certain low. And the world still sings of love I know. It isn't quite the way it was before.

I suddenly realized I've grown past those Lea Salonga songs.

I understand everything now. The nature of these addictions. How they seduce and control me like a puppet on a string. I always thought that since I never had a childhood, I was merely compensating for it. But like everything else I thought I knew, I was wrong. There is always a deeper meaning to everything. Or so my amazon princess lead me to believe.

You see when I first started with these addictions, everything was new and exciting. Everything was beautiful. Like Chocolait. Like Mango Passion Fruit. Like Apple Berry Freeze. And I guess as time passed by, I realized they were only beautiful because I coveted them. Because I wanted to own them. To taste their every curve, their every scent like they belonged to no one but to me. To torture them until the only name that comes out of their mouth is mine, and mine alone.
But there was always something missing in every encounter. In every secret. Something I could never quite understand. Until now.
When storm signal number 3 ravaged Manila, I was left with nothing but my pen. So I started writing again. About Diana of Themiscyra and her golden lasso. About my grade shool professor and her daring adventures with the Justice League. And even though I failed my teacher countless times as these addictions have started to consume me, I am still grateful. Grateful that she has instilled in me my worth before these obsessions overpowered me. Grateful that I will burn with her like wild fire. Not like Ice. Cold and unrelenting.
Oh yes, Fire. Like my wild things encounter. And with this fire, I will burn the world I know. Like the legendary phoenix. Make it disappear. Remember it no more. Just like that. And change. Perhaps into someone better. Or worst. Someone I will not even know. And soon I will have to find comfort in the fact that these addictions no longer fit my life. No. No more. There has to be something better than these.

I guess my amazon princess already taught me all I needed to know. After showing me her golden lasso, thousands and thousands of nights ago. She already changed me. I simply forgot about our encounter.

Browsing through jobstreet, I suddenly realized I am a rare bred. Honestly now, there seems to be a lot of companies in need of doctors. Even the government is looking for ways to keep the brain drain from becoming well, even more realistic. And its good. Because at least finally we, the young and dashing physicians of yore are aware of our worth.
A few weeks ago I was fortunate enough to be a part of a community far down south. I was actually looking for an adventure. They said I was going to get P1,300 for 24 hours and I was stupid enough to take it. Stupid because I was doing P3,000 for 12 hours in a hospital much closer to my place. Yes, charge to experience. I felt bad afterwards though. I think it wasn't because of the money that I gave up the place but because of those small town people I could never understand. For instance, one patient was bitten by a cat and was given only one dose of rabies vaccine. I was really mortified. What if the cat was rabid? In St. Luke's we usually give rabies immunoglobulin and rabies vaccine in 0-3-7-14-28 days dose plus of course the tetanus stuffs. So really it was difficult for me to adjust. I can't seem to reconcile what I know and how to practice medicine there. And since I was a visitor, I could not say anything. I was practically a stranger to that community.
The quarters was in itself another story. When they showed us where we will live for the next 2 days, I didn't know what to say. It was a small room approximately 4 by 4 meters subdivided into an even smaller room with one ceiling fan located at the center. The entire cast of Ant Bully was also present and I was fortunate to have one in my ears the last night I was sleeping. Apparently, the ants consider me sweet. There is also an exhaust which goes from the hospital (note: dirty) to our quarters (note: dirtier). Where they expecting convicts or child rapists to stay in this place? I was really speechless.
Is this how low they treat us? Are young physicians left with nothing but this cramped place without even drinking water? I was practically dehydrated for 2 days.
I know I'm exaggerating and you may say that well, doctors to the barrio volunteers have it worst and you're wrong. My friend who works in a community in Mindoro for the DTTB program has get this, Centralized Air Conditioning. And he gets to see and advise patients like a real doctor. We on the other hand were made to observe and even ridiculed for our understanding in medicine. We allegedly don't have much experience in patients because we live and breathe in a private hospital. The gall. At least I know there is no stage 3 hypertension. Well, Maybe there was. But that was like before 2004 came.
I was really hoping to know the community since I took my undergraduate degree from there and I still have friends who live there but apparently, I was not cut out for it. When you are moonlighting you are really prone to abuse.
There's this other thing as well. Have you ever wondered why most hospitals in the province prefer that you refer only close friends? I think that is because the cycle of abuse will be easier to propagate. You can't quit if you get a better offer afterwards. Nahihiya ka magquit unlike when no one knows you, you can quit anytime.
It is also a fact that most hospital owners are physicians as well. So why do they treat young physicians like this? Because we are already in the process of becoming their competition. And because they want us to leave the country for good. They want to have monopoly with the healthcare system. I mean who doesn't? Let's keep these young idealistic doctors away and keep the Filipino people ignorant and poor and we'll make more money. Gone were the days when medicine was suppose to benefit the helpless and teach the ignoramuses. O, Who am I kidding? Go to residency at least that way you can earn more afterwards and professors who are there really do teach.

It was perfect when we first met.
Like in the movie Up close and Personal
Or was it the song that I enjoyed the most

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I could not speak

No, I have to say that she did not belong in the category of addictions.
Nope. Never. She was more than an addiction.

She was my grade school teacher. My light.
Like knowledge. Like truth. Basking in the clear blue sky.

Neither was she like chocolait or my dark cherub
For she did not harbor any of those alluring obsessions.

On the contrary, she taught me control
Before they consume and totally destroy
Like wild fire. Like wild things.
In between the bathroom breaks of those entertainers
in Clowns Bar in Quezon Avenue.

So in return, I offered myself to her. To my beautiful scourge.
I offered my body to do with as she pleases.
And my soul for her eyes to feast upon.

Until morning came and she had to go back to Athens
Or was it Saudi Arabia? Amsterdam perhaps?
I can not remember.

All I know is that there was a country she needed to be
A country she needed to save.

It was my first time in the enchanted forest
So I do remember her very delicate features.

The captivating sprite I met at the Philippine Heart Center.
When I was a young and naive medical student.
She was a radio technologist and back then, I was her first time.
Her very very awkward first time.

That is of course before she saw greener pastures
And left the Philippines Islands
For a much bigger country down under.

You see she wanted to get married.
Probably to settle down with a foreigner
Get rich in the process.
And forget about me.

She wanted to forget about who I was to her.
What I was to her.

So why do I need to write about her now
When she clearly chose to leave me?

Is this about mocking her?
Telling her husband that he will never satisfy her
the way I satisfied her.

Why do I need to speak about her
When clearly she wants no part in me?

Because a long time ago in that enchanted forest
Julia made me fly
Like Peter Pan and Wendy
Like the lost boys of never never land

And because I am afraid

Afraid that if I do not remember her
She will simply stop breathing
And fade like all the other characters of my childhood

This is a tribute
To the man who gave me more than his Y chromosome
To the man who jumped the freezing waters from the Titanic just so he can be with his Rose
To the man who stayed with his family through thick and thin.

Their story was short of a telenovela
Boy meets girl. Boy pursues girl.
Boy and girl get married.
But there was a twist.
Like all stories.
They were related. Far distant cousins I suppose
which probably explains my present psychiatric state.

So there it was, the antagonist. The conflict. The denouement.
To make the story complete of course.

But somehow he managed to survive with his family intact.
Like I said, the freezing waters of the Atlantic
Made me proud to have him as a father.

So I write to honor him
My Gautama Buddha. My Anwar Sadat.

And all the fathers out there.
For bringing joy and life.
For making us more than what we were meant to be.

7:40 pm. Time of Death. 7 year old girl brought in by a relative after being hit by a passenger jeep. Informant is too distraught to give the details of the accident but from what I can surmise, while the jeep went for a U-turn, the driver did not notice that he hit the child dragging her a few kilometers before realizing what has happened. Skid marks all over the torso. Massive internal bleeding. Blood gushes out of the nose while attempting to intubate. No heart beat. Proceeded with giving 3 doses of epinephrine. Still a flat line.

This is not a story. Or a figment of my imagination.
While moonlighting in St. Vincent Hospital in Marikina yesterday, I met her.

An only child, she was suppose to go to school tomorrow after the long holiday. She just celebrated her 7th birthday 2 weeks ago.

Checked her pupils. Dilated. She must have found peace before they brought her in. Good thing she didn't feel the pain anymore. It must have been horrible. For someone so young.

It is in moments like this when I remember Vanessa. My dark cherub. My apple berry freeze.

The one I constantly text messaged when things got bad. When everything was not fine.
I remember telling her to always be careful because I see a lot of vehicular accidents. Drive safe. Be safe. Almost telling her I love her. Almost. But not quite.

No respiratory movements. Performed CPR. More blood gushes out of her nose. Suction please. Still a flat line. The father is screaming at the hospital now and yet she's not even gasping. Or fighting for her life as most children. The pain of being dragged by the jeep wasn't there anymore. She just lay there.

Vanessa didn't understand when I messaged her. Or why.
She must have thought I was another of her pathetic stalkers.

She could never understand these moments.

When I am in my most vulnerable.
When I cannot distinguish myself from my patients
When I get lost in the merry go round.

She could never understand that every time I see a person suffer.
Her face resurfaces. Haunting me and breaking me.
Making me realize how important she is to me.

Close the curtain. Let the family grieve. You have to be in control. Call the necessary people. Police officer. Funeral place. And don't forget to note the time of death.

I was having a bad day. My room mates were all out and I was left alone on a Saturday night.
So I started to take a stroll. Down memory lane of course.
Memory street. I swear there's a street named memory.
Anyway, a car passed by me. Asking for directions. Told her to go ask someone else.
I was not really from there. Just taking a vacation.
That's how I ended up in her bed.

It was early morning when I left her. Couldn't believe what I just did.
Her husband would have called me home wrecker.
If the poor guy knew about us.

Her husband would have killed me.
Knowing he's a police officer of sort.
Or put me in jail for something.

Then again I am always cautious.
Never tell. Never say.
Keep them guessing to the last minute.

Until I saw her again in Greenhills. This time with the entourage.
The kids. The husband. And the grandparents.
And they have no idea.

Of our secret glances.
Of the sweet surrender.
Or the sweet fillings that still calls out to me.
Night after night.

That is how my addiction with tarts started.

The church was probably right in dealing with pre marital sex. They must have learned from the wisdom of ages. Horrible. After seeing it in a car who happen to pass me by, they should be burned in hell.
Gotcha.
I guess I was never the holier than thou person. I was never the type to throw stones at Magdalenes. But when the opportunity for a free meal came, I had to say yes again.

It was staged in a church like community. It wasn't catholic. But something that came from catholicism. I joined that group for a free meal. I never realized it was a cult until I guess one day after. But I had to stay for 1 week because I get to see people making out in the dark room.
Total making out. The kind which would even put Satan to shame.

Children of God Beware. Be wary. Mark your doors with sheep's blood.

It was a wonderful experience. It taught me a lot. About people. How weird we make certain laws as to define our existence forgetting in the process our humanity. Yes, we are still made of flesh. At least some of us don't deny that.

I suddenly feel like Darwin. The origin of the species Darwin. Remember how up to know the debate on whether we came from apes is still there? My ex-friend R does not believe that we are related to apes. We had a long talk in Makiling Botanical Gardens long long time ago.

He is firm in saying that we are not related to apes or even the ascaris worm. Although genetically we are the same in about 90% for the worm that is.

Creationism vs. Evolution
Religion vs. Sex

So I finally chose to get laid that night. I mean it felt a lot better afterwards.

My ex-friend R chose otherwise. He's still miserable now.

Laguna is a very beautiful place. Almost fell in love with it. Almost. Because there are things I have to learn to let go no matter how good it is. Until of course, I received a call from one of my friends to go back.
It seems from my calculation, they needed a physician in Pagsanjan, Laguna.
Like a merry go round, I told myself. Here we go again.
I remembered the show Tabing Ilog in Abs-Cbn way way way back every time I hear the word Pagsanjan. And it was because the show was actually shot in the house of my friend. You see this friend of mine is kinda famous. History books kinda famous. Her uncle was one of those who literally wrote Philippine history. Textbook Philippine History.
So when she called to give me the offer I had to say yes. Of course I had ulterior motives when I said yes. I mean Laguna was the place were people get their inspiration to write. Her uncle wrote Philippine History in those forlorn rice fields. And maybe within a month, I just might actually be writing about world peace. Or at least something honest. Something quintessential. Something grand I suppose. Like a dazzling aurora borealis kind of grand.
The bus stopped. Waking me from that borealis day dream.
It was hot when we went out. Horribly hot. But there was a gentle breeze somewhere. I think it was from Laguna De Bay. Plus of course the waterfalls that Pagsanjan is famous for.

Then I get a text from one one my buddies about the RCBC incident in Cabuyao. The massacre. The inhumanity of those who perpetrated the crime. And I can't help but wonder.

She spoke with a British accent. A little rash. A little slow.
She told me she was educated at those London universities
I never asked her where, and I guess she won't tell me either.
I was smitten. Naturally because I was naive and hopelessly in love.
Of course that was me back then. When I knew less of the world around me
And more of the trophies that I wanted to acquire.

She told me her name was Veronica.
And that her ex boyfriend had a great car.
She went on further to tell me that she only went out with me out with me
because I was a medical student.
Because soon I was going to have more money for her European trips.
Of course that was me back then. When I knew less of the world around me
And more of the world I thought I wanted.

Now everything has changed.
I realized I never wanted Veronica.
I guess the sex was never good to begin with.

So I let my butterfly go.
To search for other things in life.
Across barren mountains to the southern peninsula

Hoping she'll find the milkweed she was meant to seek.

I feel it in the air. In the breeze. The rainy season has begun.
My dark seraphim comes once more to remind me of her story.
Passionate. Angry. She told me her name was Wendy.
Of course I knew she was lying.
Half-German, half -Filipino. Excellent bone structure.
I was fascinated when she came on to me in a bar.
I never thought she'd be interested. I'm sure I wasn't her type.
But then, I really didn't care. I just wanted her. All of her.
She really looked like a Greek Goddess. My Venus de Milo.
She was a quest I needed to add in my list.
And I guess I was lucky that night. Very very very lucky.
Because it happened again and again and again.
Until one day, she bit me. No, not up there but down where it mattered.
I got scared. Packed my stuffs and changed my number.
You see, I usually was the one who needed control. But here in my own domain, she surpassed me.
She was untamed. Like a ravaging animal. Fierce. Fast. Furious.
And she wanted more.

I recently came across a new topic on pinoymd. They said that Australia has become more strict with regards to foreign graduates applying for residency hence they have an exam now, the AMC or its equivalent of the USMLE. It will supposedly start this July. Why now? I mean just when I finished the Philippine Boards this happens. And I have to study once again.
This is really getting harder for me. I wish it were back when we were occupied by the Americans, everything was easier then. Now that we have Independence, we get to have the ZTE deals, Meralco, and a whole new set of scandals that even my grandmother would cringe.
I am caught once again between crossroads.
It's always like this for me. Last year, with all the St. Luke's College of medicine hullabaloos, I started to lose hope. A lot of my classmates didn't graduate. I was really sure I was one of them. Thank my lucky stars I guess.
Now this. I must have really pissed the big guy above.

I was busy rummaging national bookstore in SM Megamall when I chance upon The Legacy of Medicine book by an known Filipino physician 6 years ago. Naturally I was ecstatic. Since my genre has always been from new age jessica zafra books to Kundera, I was naturally curious about a physician writer. Besides the fact that there aren't many published, most are usually busy getting money, acquiring more titles or pretending to know more about the world around them.
And so I bought it. Six years after, they were giving it out for free. Damn, I should have waited.
So I read it. Again and again. It was about distinguished internists. Something I never fully understood. What makes a distinguished internist? Because I encountered one of the people discussed in that book and I found him arrogant. There was no humility in him.
And I should know because I have interviewed 2 distinguished physicians during my short stint in a publication years ago: Dr. Thelma Navarrete-Clemente and Dr. Fe Del Mundo. And they were very very humble. Knowing what they have accomplished, the doctor whom I encountered should get lessons from them.
Enter Professor X. Young. Idealistic. Nationalistic. His book says it all. Everything about his struggle says it all. And I have to add that I will never encounter a physician in the same league as those of Del Mundo and Clemente until I saw him speak. There is something about his past that made him so much more. It enriched him. Made him better. Made him want to change the world.
Enter Magneto and his acolytes. They seek to diminish humanity. Keep the mutants in power. They want to maintain the status quo. Keep the lay people poor, helpless, and ignorant. And keep the other young idealistic mutants in the dark.
Philippine Healthcare. Our own Muir island. It's a sham really. But this isn't about them. This is about Professor X and what he has done to the poor and the helpless. This is about the Xavier Institute and the help they provide among the newly discovered mutants.
I'm not a believer. I'm not even remotely practicing. But in times like this, I'd like to believe that there is a force out there bigger than me. A force that keeps this young idealistic physician to toil, work for the impoverished, and find, among the ruins of his dark past, his very own salvation.

To Professor X and his X-men.
May the you be blessed by Apollo, Asclepios, Hygeia and Panacea.

Its raining once more. Tropical monsoon showers. And with it, my memories. Deep. Dark. The ones long forgotten start to resurface once more. Understand though that I have write about her now. I feel the minute the rain stops, I will start to forget. Who she is. What she is. How she made me feel. The instances that made me who I am now will always be because of what she made me believe. My addictions will never be complete without her. She was chocolate. The first of all my obsessions.
It was in UP Laguna when we first met. She was a freshman and I was her senior. We were introduced by a common friend. She called herself Chocolate. I told her I was Paul. We both lied of course. And so the story goes that we found ourselves exploring the unknown regions of the human anatomy. Inside the classrooms. My dorm. The Fertility Tree.
I tasted every part of her. She tasted every part of me. We went as far as our hands could carry. To eternity and beyond. Before her, I never knew there was such a thing as eternity. We made love like there was no tomorrow. Night after night after night.
We could barely stand afterwards. She was good. Very very good. She knew how to torture me. And in return, she taught me how to torture her.
She also taught me how to lie. Pretend to love someone. Charm them and get what you want.
Show a little but not much. Always keep your head above the water. Love is nothing more than serotonin. It's good but it won't last very long.
You have to have something for yourself. So that at the end of every night, you still see yourself whole. Beautiful and never lacking.
But like all addictions, we grow past them. The smoking habits. The cotton candies.
We become so much more than what they are.
So I decided to search for more. For more meaning and more touch.
For something bigger than myself. For something that sweeps me off my feet.
She wanted the same.
Although I admit, I learned so much from her, we had to part ways.
Addictions have to end.
She was my one and only. And yet I'm afraid as days turn to years, I will also forget about her.
Like all my other playmates.
So please understand why I need to honor her now. Honor her with this: My memoirs.
For before my dark cherub, before my little mermaid, and before my white chocolate mocha, I was hers. I belonged to no one but her.
And albeit I remember in parts now,
she will remain the most beautiful of all addictions.

I knew there was something wrong about her the minute I was introduced to her. I was stupid. I really just wanted to get laid that night. Besides she had a great car, my friend pointed out. Porsche. A girl driving a Porsche. And here in the Philippines? The odds are one in a million.
Yup, she is one in a million. Nothing beats her I guess. And even if she offered me a ride to Tagaytay today, I'd still say yes. Which she did by the way. Lots of times.
But like all crazy things, being with her wasn't without consequence. She also demanded something from me.
Something I should have not given so soon.
Of course I could have said no. Waited for love or marriage, whichever came first.
But I was in her car and she was hot.
Now I'll surely burn in hell. Condemned to eternal fire .
I just committed my first unforgivable sin.
Then again how do I say no?
She had this perfect porcelain face.
Like a Chinese barbie doll. Reminded me of a classmate I had a crush on years ago.
Chinese barbie would hold me and everything would be alright.
Until she began singing.

Dadalhin kita saking palasyo
Dadalhin hangang langit ay manibago
Ang lahat ng itoy pinangako mo
Dadalhin lang pala ng hangin ang pangarap ko

I was busy viewing some of my my friendster accounts few hours ago. Old and new acquaintances. Some midnight rendezvous. People I could have had meaningful relationships but never did. Old pictures here and there. I missed the good old days when there was nothing to fear. When the world was new, exciting and fun. It was always a wonderful experience with all of them. All those long hours of talking and more talking.
About dark cherubs, apple berry freeze, and white chocolate mochas.
I made a lot of friends by just declaring that I was going to become a doctor. Then Clerkship. Then Internship. Then the big day came.
Republic Act 2382.
Although I remained the same Louell, everything was different. There was no more I could have been taller wish or the how I wish Cruela d Vil would die of a heart attack wish.
I was weirdly contented. There was a calmness now.
So I tried visiting some of my friends to get back the old me. Went as far as Laguna just so I can tell myself that I haven't changed. That I'm still the type to rave and black out at parties. That I'm still egotistical, self-hating and angry at how the world was being run by capitalist scums.
But there it was now in front of me. Republic Act 2382.
Like a big blindfold, it blocked my way. And I couldn't see the world the way I use to see it.
I used to drown myself with those addictions.
But there was nothing now.
Nothing but the silence.

We met at a beach in Cagayan De Oro. I was looking for a conversation and she was singing the karaoke. After the will of the winds rendition, I was immediately smitten. Besides the fact that I loved the song, she had a powerful presence. Graceful. Almost nymph like. Seeing her dance was like being in a dream. I guess she played her magic all to well. No man can ever resist her.
So we talked and amidst the semi-white sands, we made love. It was powerful. I had never made love out in the open. It was like in the movie from here to eternity. The waves slowly covering our bodies. I was kissing her face. Her every curve. Her every part.
She was my little mermaid. The red head who sang me the will of the winds.

I've spent half my life, looking for the reasons things must change...

Then something unprecedented happened. The security guard in the beach must have seen us and we were told to leave the area. It was fun though. No, not the getting caught part. But the part where you almost get caught. We had a good laugh after it. It saddened me though that I could not stay with her. I was going back to fulfill my dream of becoming a doctor. I guess she wanted me too. All of me. But I had to leave.

I did not belong to the sea.

I only slept with you because I thought you were nice, she told me over and over and over again. Nice. Great word. It reminds me so much of porcelain dolls. Nice to look at but break it and its yours. I never wanted to be nice. I wanted to be hot, gorgeous, brilliant--something which inspires and burns villages like wildfire. But that was not how she saw me. She saw me as nice. Ice. Cold. Breakable.
I remember Vanessa pretty well. And it was not just because she called me nice. She had this dark curly hair. Bouncy. Almost as if inviting me to play with her. And I guess being new to the playground, I found her seductive. Alluring. She was all that I remembered of my childhood. She had this perfect angelic face, almost heavenly but not quite. There was an evil so violent I could not begin to fathom it.
She regaled me with stories about kings in far away lands and of knights and valiant lords. She told me how she was hurt by a very bad man and how she found hope again in me. She made me promise to love her no matter what happened. And I did. Hell, I still do.
But she lied to me. She just used me for something else. Something I never quite understood. So I let her go. Just like that.
But she never left me. You see I think she is still bound to me. Like a forgotten promise aching to rekindle old flames, she would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I would walk in Megamall after a job well done, shop after shop and I would see her again. Behind glass windows, her raven curls still beckon. Her dark almost forbidden feature still calls my name.
In the bus. In the cab. In those high arching stairways as I go home at night.
And I can't resist. I still follow her.

Ms. Marvel asked me an interesting question two days ago. She wanted to know if all my stories are true. She asked me that twice already. I guess she's starting to suspect something. That I maybe hiding some terrible secret about these addictions. So I told her time and again, that these are merely stories. No more and no less. I guess it's difficult when you are a writer yourself. You see so much more than what an average reader sees. You see patterns in every story. Pieces of the puzzle hidden from mundane conjunctures and sultry pronouns.
Herein lies my dilemna, should I continue to write and risk exposing these secrets or simply forget about these addictions? I suppose I should choose the latter knowing that life would be easier and less complicated. But I cannot resist the pen and try as I may, these demented souls reach out to me screaming until I have appeased them with their stories. So I write but I cannot divulge all their secrets. Superheroes never reveal their true identity. Batman can never tell the world he is Bruce Wane. It would be sacrilege. A betrayal if they do that. So I hide them with my white chocolate mocha and strawberry colored tarts.
I suppose I could have changed the title to Dr. Louell or something profound like stethoscopes or Medicine but I chose not. Precisely because I wanted to write something that encompasses medicine and healthcare. Something primal. Something dark, twisted and exciting. Something which makes you wonder. But I'm starting to slip. One of my amazing friend is beginning to discover the truth behind these addictions.
So I had to read my stories over and over again. Check every punctuation and every word. Make sure that I give out just enough to satisfy their longings and yet be honest to my subjects. Change the endings if I have to, make it sad, forlorn or even grand. Hide them. Hide them not because I might get sued but because they need their secrets to survive.
Hide them so that you may see yourself in each of these characters. Pretentious. Angry. Violent. But never boring.
In the end, these stories are simply that. Stories. Fantastic at times. Banal mostly. But nonetheless beautiful tales of human beings with an extraordinary ability to love and to cherish the world around them.

I adopted a kid just recently. It's a long story and I don't want to bore you with it but suffice to say she's living with me now. About 2 years of age, we call her summer. I guess she was born sometime between April and May, I really can't remember. Anyway, she's keeping me busy
these days with all the screaming and the usual things that terrible 2 year olds do. I have to keep myself calm though and remember all the things I learned in Pediatrics. One of which would be understanding. Kids will play. Kids will break stuffs. And kids will throw tantrums. It's a full time job and it's really hard.
I am not her father by the way. And I don't have delusions of being such. But since her father is one of those irresponsible, pathetic and disgusting carcass who left her when she needed her the most, I think I will do for now. It's such a shame though, he'll never see her become a wonderful human being.
I love kids. I think it's because there's so much potential in them. You can train them to become cold blooded murderers or teach them compassion and tolerance. I just hope she'll learn compassion. Compassion after all that she has been through and that no matter how hopeless the world is, there is still kindness in it. Love begets love, summer. Don't ever forget that.

When I was still a young medical student not so long ago, I had a professor in OB so disgusting, the mere mention of her name would send other students running for cover. She was not only vindictive, I mean being vindictive is justifiable if you're as good looking as Paris Hilton, but she was also undeniably and overwhelmingly Obese. Watching her eat was like watching pestilence ravage the African peninsula.
She also had these tantrums which would start from sheer childishness becoming eventually into full blown murder. I hated her. I guess I realized now that it wasn't just me who hated her. A lot of my classmates hated her. She was conniving, treacherous and just plain spiteful. She would tell us how pathetic and stupid we were and at times during those deep dark Carrie moments, I would believe in her. I would sit in my pillow and pretend I was dead.
I told myself that if and when I become a doctor, I would parade myself in her clinic and just sit there and wait for her apology.
It however changed when I passed the medicine board exams. My universe was suddenly turned upside down. All my insecurities were gone and she, well, she became nothing more than just a speck in my universe. Looking back I could have sworn I believed she was right in telling me that I did not deserve to become a doctor. Good thing I never allowed myself to succumb to her dementia. I never lowered my standards. So if there was any advice I would like to give to those aspiring to be more than they want to be, it is this:

Never allow anybody to tell you that you don't deserve what you want

So here's to torturing more puppies Cruela. Just make sure they don't bite you back.

Back in grade school, Mrs. Molina our Christian Living teacher always managed to scare us. It wasn't really the afro hair although my best friend Andrew still had nightmares about it but more because she would tell us that we would burn in hell if we did not follow the the teachings of Christ. She would then tell us that the way to hell is paved with sweet candies and lots of naked women. The last one was my addendum after seeing the Sistine chapel interiors. And so I would go on and not eat candies or see naked women until adolescence came and well, we know what happens there.
What I'm trying to point out is that practicing what we teach is hard. You see unlike other professionals, we literally see people and their families suffering from lets say diabetes or alcoholic liver disease. And we argue constantly to our patients about the evil effects of too much good life and we forget that we are also guilty of doing the same things. I mean I know a lot of diabetic internists who are still fond of pastries and a bunch of surgeons who can't seem to control their drinking spree.
It's hard and the sad part is that there really is no Nobel Prize or even a Ramon Magsaysay award that we get after doing what we teach.
But we do it anyway. We have to at least believe that we practice what we tell our patients.
We do it because because we owe it to ourselves to be an example to everybody. Yes, the minute we took the oath, we are automatically charged with the ambassador of goodwill title.
Getting that PRC ID is a privilege, an honor. And we should give respect to it for as long as we live.
I guess Mrs. Molina never mentioned that the path to salvation is also not as hard as I thought it would be.

I had my 2nd clinic day yesterday. To say it was cool was an understatement, it was fun.
Then when I was about to have my lunch break at Mcdonalds, an old friend Erin caught up with me. I think she just had her wrists broken after a badminton game that ended, well, bad. So there I was in SM Food Court eating happy meal and pretending to care about her badminton game. I used my usual it must be fun right speech. And I think it worked, somehow, because she didn't stop talking about it.
Pretending has always been fun for me. I guess for her too. She likes to think she came to terms with her life now. That she's happier. No sex, just pure badminton, she'd say. She got rid of all her bad habits. Most, I think, except me. I guess I'm one bad habit she didn't want to get rid of.
I always laugh at people who say that. It's like saying I've become a whole new person. Better than you. No more superficial crap and then something horrible happens to them, and you see them for who they really are. Ugly. Lifeless. Boring. That was all I needed to hear though.
Being an expert in reading people, it was confirmation enough. She is finally in a long term relationship.
So how long have you been with him, I cut her short. 3 years or so. Not counting the courtship rituals of course. Something which I could never understand. Why spend a lot of time talking when you can get to know somebody better in less time and effort?
Goodbye. Finally. I couldn't take it anymore. I was starting to have vertigo all over again.
She took her bags and left. Left me with my Mcdonald's happy meal.
I used to be her happy meal you know.
I guess she found another BurGer much better than happy meal.

I hate this. The boredom. When I finished medical school, I really thought jobs would come rushing in. Apparently I still belong to the 7% unemployed in this country. Yea count me in. The nothing to do crowd. I have a lot of things in my mind right now thou. AMC. USMLE. Or a 60K job that well, won't really help me realize my full potential.
I wanted many things in life. Scientist, Nobel prize winner, Star Witness, but when reality sinks in, you realize you just have to do with what's right now. So I'm keeping the low road and hope somebody snaps me back to becoming who I want to become.
Lot of becomings. Listen to me. I'm sounding more and more like my psych professor.
Pardon me but I hated psychiatry. Face the rage. Frolic in mid-air. All those Chicken soup stuffs.
I was never into Chopin. I thrive in chaos.
So I guess I'll just sit and wait. Wait for my darling princess to throw me her long braided hair
Wait for her shoes to fall off at midnight.
Wait for the fates. Afterall, I can always go back to spotlight anytime.

I guess it was my fault. I said yes all too soon. I should have waited for war, pestilence, or any of the four other horsemen to appear. Then again that is how we humans seal our doom. So I closed my eyes, clicked my ruby shoes and chanted, "There's no place like SM". There's no place like SM. Unfortunately I could not make the munchkins in the MRT disappear.
To anyone using the mrt during rush hour you probably know what I'm talking about. It was like being bludgeoned to a wall. You're stuck, can't breathe and you are probably standing in front of a guy who has never heard of a deodorant all his life. It was painstakingly for lack of a better word, lackadaisical. I wanted to get out. Heck, I just wanted to make it through Megamal alive which was like going to Mt. Everest as far as I can tell. So I decided eventually to take the bus. Moving at 1 m/hr, the bus was cool but still they never got rid of the cockroaches. I guess our society will never get rid of this vermin. Ten million years and we have nothing to show.
All sweaty and vermin free hours later, I arrived at my destination, SM Megaclinic.
They had a great office. It was air conditioned all the way but not at 730 in the morning which was about the time I arrived. After evaluating patients for pre-employment, I was fortunate enough to have an emergency case of Tonsillopharyngitis and Costochondritis. I think it's weird though than first day on the job and I have that effect on people--chest pain and throat pain. I mean I'm not really that terrible looking.
I was happily evaluating patients when I realized I was doing it for 5 hours already. 5 hours. Is this what having a job means though? I feel like a robot. Do you have any allergies? Check. Any history of Diabetes? Check. Hypertension? Check. Anything? Check. Slap me just so I can feel alive again. Check.
Then just when I was about to give up, I saw something that made my heart leap. One of my patients was given daffodils by his boyfriend just across the hall.
There it is. In that small gesture, the meaning of life. Of medicine. Of healing.
The bright yellow, almost golden colored flower that reminded me of why I took up medicine.
It was an epiphany.

When I was still very young, I was fortunate enough to be included in the list
of participants for an acting workshop in QC WildLife Park. Back then, I'd like to believe that
I was still cute enough to be included in StarCircle Quest. I was wrong.
So when one of my friends Dana invited me to Wildlife park, I was a little hesistant. First because I knew the place was crawling with wannabes and second, well I'm not really good with animals.
Then again knowing Dana, she probably just needed someone to talk to so I went.
4 pm. I'm here where are you? 415 pm. Where are you again? 430 pm. I waited and waited. And just when I was about to give up, she came. With those emerald eyes, she still manages to soothe me even when she was very late. You looked great, she said. And just like that, everything was perfect.
Dana just happened to be on a break. Her last relationship soured and she needed guidance as usual. She also got hospitalized recently for a neck injury and had many more mishaps. And what's even worst is the fact that she feels she's so alone. No family to share with, no one to talk with.
Alone. Wow. I've had a lot of encounters with people who think they are alone. When I face myself in the mirror I see one more.
But the good part in being alone is that there's solitude in it, I keep telling her that.
We started walking across the little lake in QC Wildlife talking about past relationships
and the crazy things we used to do together.
We played, like little children again. New to the world around us and ever happy for knowing that once in afternoon sky, we realized we did not need anybody to be happy.
"Why did I not leave?", she asked me that countless times.
It was because when I was in the brink of losing my sanity, you rescued me.
You told me it was okay.
Now it's my turn to tell you that it's okay.
It's okay Dana. I'm here.

your lips still torture me Bea.
like bEautiful rose petals
slowly geNtly
opEning my innocence

i wanteD so much to take you
ravage you.
keep you In my arms.
and never let you go.

be mine.
forever
and ever.

i desire you bea
those alabaster cheeks and
porcelain face
my princess
from the land of the rising sun

torture me again
with those soft Kisses
Tiny drops of heaven

make me forget who i am
what i came here to do
make me forget my promise

so that i may remember once more
what it feels
to walk barefoot
to walk naked

without surrender

The thing with studying at Starbucks is that every now and then you get free drinks for new products they are endorsing. And if you're very friendly with the barista's, you get additional muffins with that. So there I was enjoying my freebies when suddenly out of nowhere, A, the vermin who stole my first girlfriend and B, my exgf, came. What was even disgusting was the fact that they were still together after all these years. Whatever happened to Karma? To Jesus Christ and the apostles? Was I not better than A when it comes to sex?
Damn it, I prayed they would both rot in hell and I never got my wish.
Then just like that all the floodgates of hell opened. I had to get out. Scream and well, kick him in the ass. But my body would not permit such an attitude.
She saw me, I think. Waved. She said hi. I missed you. She said she was getting married. I don't really remember the rest because halfway through the conversation I started to have vertigo.
So I simply held her hand and said Congratulations. Took my MP4 and pretended to listen to Olivia Newton John's Xanadu.

A place... where nobody dare to go... the love that we came to know... They call it Xanadu...

She's more beautiful now than last I saw her. And let's face it, they're both good looking people. They belong together.

The love... the echoes of long ago... you needed the world to know... they are in xanadu...

Then suddenly in that picture perfect moment, my favorite barista slipped. Forever played in slow motion, I will never forget when the entire dulce the leche flew, and landed flat on their face.

...now that I'm here... Now that your near... In xanadu...

I never liked white chocolates. There's something superficial in it. I mean chocolates should be
the same as cacao--brown like its seed. Still since I was never the type to pass on free food, I tried one for thesis sake. I have to warn you though because I haven't been the same since.
White chocolates have a lingering taste. Much like mint, it stays with you and plays with your tongue. Until the very last bite when you begin to realize that you can't get enough of it.
I met Janine the same day I tried White Chocolate Mocha. After the initial awkward moment, she shared her story to me. And that was the rub. She made me laugh until I could no longer contain myself. She made me happy in such a brief moment that I don't think I can ever be happy. So full of life, I realized how old, serious and lonesome I have become. I can't even be happy about the beautiful summer rain that drenches the earth in mid-afternoon.
Janine. I still can't describe her. She defies the thesaurus. I don't think there is even a word that resembles how incredible she is. Even her body is a masterpiece. A work of art. Every niche tells a story as she tells you over and over again, through her small gestures, the curves in her body and the gentle gaze that makes you believe anything is possible.

A few months ago, I went to a singles party with some of my friends. I'm just saying it was
a singles party to make my life more interesting but it was really a birthday party. I didn't have a good time but I was introduced to this lovely lady M. And boy was she hot. I think everyone in the room wanted her so it came as a surprise when she asked for my number. She was a goddess and here she is asking for my number. Whatever it was that I did in my past life must have been really good. Anyway we had a good time one after another until the day when we started hanging out as friends.
It was weird. One day you see someone as hot and the next day you see them as a friend. You start having friendly talks. I never had a good time afterwards.
So I resolved to stop having friends and keep only what is worth keeping.

Van Gogh had an attitude I always wanted to emulate. When he was in love with
a prostitute, he gave her his most priced possession, his index finger.
The poor girl probably never survived the shock. But then knowing schizophrenia as I do
now, it was a wonderful gesture. A soul trying to give something animate so as to make sense
of the madness that was before him. I like Van Gogh's paintings--Starry starry night, scream, and sunflowers. I like it so much because the paintings scare me. I look at it and halfway I start to feel as if someone was watching me with the paintings. Multiple personalities are so passe these days. So when Coffemaker, a long time friend/artiste/Van Gogh follower invited me to his despedida party, I reluctantly agreed. The next question was where was he going?
Cafe 77 was the name of the cafe the party was set. Somewhere in kamuning, it was a quaint and weirdly nonchalant place. Wine bottles in the corner and it had a peaceful eerie feeling, much like looking at starry starry night. It was also then that Coffemaker announced that he had a show in NYC and he's about to go to the states. Wow. NYC. Art Exhibit. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
I always wanted to see an honest to goodness art exhibit. Though I've never seen Coffemaker's work, I knew it was going to be a blast. I mean he loves Van Gogh. He used to have this weird afro hair and he used to scare little schoolchildren. So GooDlUcK DeaR frIEnd...

I wEnt to mAkati med today to get rid of my zit. Why makati med instead of St. Luke's?
It was actually because my longtime friend J is now taking a residency
in dermatology and i get to have dermabrasion for a very cheap price.
So aRmed with my 500 bucks, I went out that evening. I was about to board the jeep
when I realized how incredibly clear the night sky was.
So clear I can actually see The constellation of the hunter Orion.
Yes, i know a little of astronomy in college. In comes in handy when you want to impress a date. It's easy to see in a clear night and the story is so tragic that trust me, you'll probably
get laid that night. I know I did.
It is so easy to fall in love and be lost in a passionate embrace, I told myself.
Enter J.
She has been in a relationship with a guy for 10 years and just when I was so sure
that they would end up in the altar, they ended up in an altar alright but it was an altar where the Incas performed virgin sacrifices. And that's just the beginning.
Then there were death threats and lawyers and halfway I realized her life would have put MeLrOse PlAcE to shame.
She met someone now though. Better. Her life was better now
without the controversy and the death threats. She lives simply among the ruins
of past heartaches and old majestic tombstones that once reminded her
of long forgotten kisses.
In a way, I envy her. She finally found her place with the starS.

It was one of those crazy nights. Like alabaster.
When the moon rages,
and the cicada's song breaks the still night
When I met Bea.
Bea. She was a beautiful princess.
From the land of the rising sun.
She blinded me.
We talked like children of the moon
Pretending to understand the world around us.
Pretending to make sense
amidst ronald mcdonald, sTarBucks and Nims island.
Until I saw something. a spark of hope. Of happiness.
She would have been perfect, in another time, another place.
If my heart was not smitten.
If I did not have other less important things in mind.
If I didn't want to conquer the world.
So I did what normal guys do.
Pretend. Pretend to be in love. Pretend to be happy. Pretend to know.
But she can she can see right through me.
You see, she's also been there.
So I kissed her.
I wanted to believe it was possible. Love was possible.
But I could not make it real.
She left and I stood transfixed knowing that I could have had something beautiful,
something extraordinary.
But I was not ready.
She was not the One.