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.