songs of a wounded healer

singing songs again and again

33 notes

one step forward

rogrogrog:

I am now officially an integrated clinical clerk (ICC). This means, I will be a full-fledged clerk next year and then an intern after. =)

We are officially over lectures in big groups. We have been subdivided into blocks, smaller blocks and smaller worlds. Welcome to the Clinical World.

I…

Day 19

Filed under last 100 days internship

9 notes

rogrogrog:

Dear Lord,

Thank you very much for reminding me that I can. Despite the many times I doubted myself that I can, many times I wallowed in self-pity, and the many times I was consumed by my fears, You and I delivered. Today, you reminded me that I have all I need to be able to conquer all of these. That what You gave is enough for me to be who I want to be.

Thank you very much for the gift to believe in myself. 

Your Son,

Roger

Day 20

Filed under last 100 days internship

2 notes

5 years ago I handled course coordinating for the very first time, vowing to bring neuroanatomy down from its traditionally ivory tower manner of teaching to something medical students could relate to, in a student-friendly manner. 5 years later, that first batch of students are now almost fully-fledged doctors.

Dr. Pascual, my favorite neuroanatomy teacher

Day 23

Filed under last 100 days internship medicine neurology

2 notes

A penny and a dime

I was on-duty at the pediatrics ER during that time. A child was intubated, and the mother needed around P 2, 500 to fund the mechanical ventilation of her child. In our hospital, watchers do the incessant ambubagging for the patients who cannot afford the price.

This poses a risk for a child to develop pneumothorax and a whole gamut of complications.

While writing down orders at the physicians table, the mother asked my resident if she can lend her money for the mechanical ventilation. She promised that money is on the way, and that she would pay her as soon as possible.

My senior was exhausted. It was during the wee hours of the morning, unholy time at that when this mother approached us. The resident showed her wallet, a meager P 200 was all that was.

She vented why this had to happen in our hospital. The doctor spends time thinking about the diagnosis, treatment and saving a life. Then on the other side, she has to juggle an issue concerning money and her sanity. 

Caregiver fatigue. 

Day 24

Filed under last 100 days internship

6 notes

rogrogrog:

A doctor said once, that she asks the help of her patients who died of cancer. Tonight, I pray for the intercession of all the patients who are now in heaven to guide us and pray for us so that we can be the best doctors we can be. :)

Day 25

Filed under medicine last 100 days

7 notes

rogrogrog:

It was another ordinary night. I found myself walking back to our unit. I was walking, tired as usual from our long-day shifts at the Outpatient Department. I just came from Taft, that busy avenue in front of our hospital.
I looked into the dark night, which is what I usually [on safe grounds]. The hospital stood dimly yet proudly against the black sky. Dimly, because its dim-lit ancient-looking windows combine effortlessly with the dark clouds above; proudly because it houses the lives of hundreds of patients, most of which cannot afford the fees from private hospitals, are under its tender loving care.
As I was staring at the night sky, I noticed flickering lights floating. Were they stars? I hesitated a bit for a moment.  They were a bit larger than the regular stars I see. [I love stargazing and trust me, they are around 10 times larger than the stars I usually see.] Moreover, they were dancing, with waving borders, not just flickering.
After around thirty seconds of awe, I finally realized that they were floating Chinese lanterns. I finally chanced upon these lanterns, I first knew from the movie Tangled. I have always wanted to see one. It was a surreal experience, magical to say the least. They literally looked like dancing stars in the middle of the silent, dark night. Balls of radiance making their way up, up above until they are consumed by the silent night.  
I have been consumed by so many dark nights- moments of doubt, exhaustion, and sometimes, apathy. But, it is in these dark areas that we find the most unexpected flickers of light. A patient who wages a battle with cancer, a priest who spreads God’s power of healing to patients, a doctor who stay up until the early morning for her duty and lastly, an aspiring doctor, are all tiny flickers of hope. Small floating lights which illuminate against the immensely dark skies.   
The floating lights of hope. 

Day 27

rogrogrog:

It was another ordinary night. I found myself walking back to our unit. I was walking, tired as usual from our long-day shifts at the Outpatient Department. I just came from Taft, that busy avenue in front of our hospital.

I looked into the dark night, which is what I usually [on safe grounds]. The hospital stood dimly yet proudly against the black sky. Dimly, because its dim-lit ancient-looking windows combine effortlessly with the dark clouds above; proudly because it houses the lives of hundreds of patients, most of which cannot afford the fees from private hospitals, are under its tender loving care.

As I was staring at the night sky, I noticed flickering lights floating. Were they stars? I hesitated a bit for a moment.  They were a bit larger than the regular stars I see. [I love stargazing and trust me, they are around 10 times larger than the stars I usually see.] Moreover, they were dancing, with waving borders, not just flickering.

After around thirty seconds of awe, I finally realized that they were floating Chinese lanterns. I finally chanced upon these lanterns, I first knew from the movie Tangled. I have always wanted to see one. It was a surreal experience, magical to say the least. They literally looked like dancing stars in the middle of the silent, dark night. Balls of radiance making their way up, up above until they are consumed by the silent night.  

I have been consumed by so many dark nights- moments of doubt, exhaustion, and sometimes, apathy. But, it is in these dark areas that we find the most unexpected flickers of light. A patient who wages a battle with cancer, a priest who spreads God’s power of healing to patients, a doctor who stay up until the early morning for her duty and lastly, an aspiring doctor, are all tiny flickers of hope. Small floating lights which illuminate against the immensely dark skies.   

The floating lights of hope. 

Day 27

Filed under medicine last 100 days