Family Medicine ends tomorrow

THE PAST four weeks have been among the most enjoyable moments in my clerkship year. I saw simple cases at Fabella Health Center and at the Ambulatory Clinic and realized I still had a lot to learn. I won't talk about how depressing our two-week stint at the Supportive, Palliative, and Hospice Care unit was. Our patients were mostly dying or were in severe pain. But I realized a lot of things and appreciated the value of compassion in patient care. Anyway, here are some photos.

Ching and Lennie inside the Child Hope Asia Philippines (CHAP) van.

Liebster Award


ATE KATE Pedroso, sister of my MBB classmate Wegs, tagged me for the Liebster Award, which is given to up-and-coming bloggers with less than 200 followers. I don't know what the award means exactly, who invented it, if there's cash involved, or how many followers I have (I don't keep track), but I went ahead because it's been a long time since I did a meme. So thanks, Ate Kate!

The rules

Share 11 facts about yourself.
Answer the awarder’s 11 questions.
Ask 11 questions of your own.
Nominate 11 bloggers.

wires and clouds silhouette, my favorite


MY NAME is often misspelled and mispronounced. "Lance" becomes "lanch" or "lunch." "Isidore" becomes "Isildur" (the Lord of the Rings character) or "Isidor." "Catedral" becomes "Cathedral"—the most common mistake people commit, even those close to me.

These never fail to surprise me. After all, my name isn't like Cheryl or Sheryl, where one can never be too sure if it begins with an "s" or a "c." The name that my parents gave me bears the traditional spelling of "Lance" and "Isidore," without the unnecessary, useless, bothersome consonants that parents like to inflict on their children these days. My name isn't unique, either, unlike those of my classmates—please see this interesting list.

Near-death experience

A STRANGER came charging at me. I was on my way home. It was 8:45 PM, and Padre Faura Street was drowned in darkness. Dressed in black shirt and jeans, the man looked nothing extraordinary. The glistening blade he held by his right hand was hard to miss.

He grabbed my right shoulder, pointed the knife at my abdomen, and demanded that I give him my cellphone. My initial reaction was shock. What followed was incredulity, for why would he want to steal my phone, the cheapest Nokia model available in the market months ago? It didn't even have a colored screen, and I had only bought it because of the built-in flashlight.


INSIDE THE ISOLATION ROOM, my three-year old patient is struggling for freedom. A machine helps him breathe normally. His hands and feet are restrained by torn pieces of yellow cloth attached to the bed. If left alone, he'd take the endotracheal tube where the oxygen is passed to his lungs. We're observing him closely.

His grandmother, who's ordinarily calm, yells, "Dok! May lumalabas sa ilong niya!"