The End has come

AFTER THE so-called "fake" graduation last April 25, all things seemed different. Our sprints to the Lab Info and ER were spirited and light-hearted. We didn't mind that our patient census for the day was filled to the brim. When difficult cases were referred to us, we didn't panic that we had to endorse them during the morning rounds. Instead we said, "Bring it on!" At the Triage we were passive and resigned—and gone were the times when we'd argue with patients who demanded ER admission, patients who could be better managed at the OPD. In our minds was the slow ticking of the countdown timer to May 1, the End of Internship and of Med School.

The fake graduation that felt real and fun

I WAS contemplating on whether I should attend the University Graduation or not. My main argument against it: that it wasn't a real graduation, in the sense that we still had to report to the hospital at 6 PM, that we weren't finished with our academic and clinical requirements yet, that we had end-of-the-year exams to prepare for (not that I'm losing sleep over them—far from it, actually).

UP Manila 105th Commencement Exercises

But my father insisted on flying over to Manila. He was so excited he immediately booked his plane tickets. This was, after all, the first time that someone in our immediate family would be graduating as a physician. My mother and younger brother Sean are both addressed as "doctors," but they're dentists. I also figured that attending the Univ Grad would be a dress rehearsal of sorts, in preparation for the real College of Medicine graduation on May 19.

Favorite solo shot

Remembering Gabriel Garcia Marquez, for nobody else in the world could write like him



THE NEWS OF Gabriel Garcia Marquez's passing away didn't come as a shock to me. Old writers die eventually--that is a fact of life. But I was saddened by the news and was deeply affected by it, perhaps in ways that only avid readers can relate to. Nobody else in the world could write like him.

Sigizmund Krzhizhanokvsky's The Letter Killers Club: so meta!


WHY I READ Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky's The Letter Killers Club:


1. The title. A letter-killing club? I love letters. I only made sense of mathematics when I saw letters alongside numbers. Which is why I like math but detest arithmetic. And I love words—through them I make sense of the world. 

2. The scenes. A secret group of intellectuals with weird three-lettered names meets every Saturday to discuss stories. They claim that writing ideas on pen and paper is inferior to hearing the stories directly from the mouth of the storyteller. The absence of medium removes all forms of complications, they seem to believe, but they don't quite realize that air, too, is a medium on which sound vibrations travel to reach the cochlea of the listeners.

3. The name, Sigizmund Krzhizhanovksy. I take pride in being able to spell that. 

Countdown: days 28 to 19

WAS I extraordinarily busy last week that I wasn't able to update this site? I don't think so. Didn't really feel like blogging last week. With nothing else useful to say I didn't want to pollute the internet with nonsense. But I should stop explaining myself and get to my point. Here's a recap of the last 28 to 19 days to The End of Med School.