Till Our Next Meeting

June 10    A few pages to the left (I initially hand wrote these entries on my journal) and a few months ago, I wrote that I took comfort in the saying, “She’ll be apples.” It was another version of a reassurance that  "I will be okay." Because by that time, I will be more prepared to deal with the chaos that comes with my choice.  That time is technically now.  I arrived to the Pan Pacific hotel after more than 30 hours of transit from Newport to London to Doha then Melbourne. I had worn a tight-fitting mask and breathed artificial and condensed air for long hours. My carbon dioxide levels were probably high. As soon as we got off the plane, we were escorted to each step at the airport : submission of three documents we filled in on the plane, immigration, baggage collection, customs then straight to the bus.  I got to my 5-star hotel room, complete with a queen bed next to a king single bed donned with soft white sheets and plush pillows, a fancy b...

The sound of a plane that's come to landing And in a nearly empty room of arrivals I find myself standing The electronic board lights up and tells me the passengers are disembarking  And I'm reminded of a feeling of longing and wanting To embrace a woman my whole life I've been loving  In mere minutes, that once empty hall is filled with  a hundred eager eyes  And in a myriad of faces, I catch hers And my once empty heart is filled with a hundred fireflies I held her hand, soft as creamy butter, as the perfect mold of dough  And I wondered where did all those 50 something years go And where she managed to draw the strength to combat her sorrow  Being away from her family to fight the war waged for a bright tomorrow   I look at her face, artificially whitened from years of radiation yet filled with a youthful shine  Her worries and doubts she held clandestine Replaced it with courage, so a good education would be mine  A...

When I was a girl I was filled with a mountain of fallacies and superstitions Mommy said she thought kissing a guy would lead to impregnation That her first kiss was at the altar, sealing God’s permission And so I went through teenage years hiding any sign I was a girl Binding my breasts with cloth so my femininity wouldn't unfurl The thought of being in a relationship would make me hurl My grandma said to ward off men I should wear a pearl They said That to men women owed their devotion Keep the house tidy , tend to chores, love without condition If my husband looks away, it's my duty to do whatever means to make him stay They preached my best strategy is to pray, pray and pray And hope he comes home at the end of the day That marriage should be girls primary aspiration And bearing a child was life's greatest fruition And divorce would inevitably lead to society's condemnation  If your child turned out to be gay, that just means he's gone astray...

2014 was an enlightening oxymoron of sorts.  It was of miracles and magic, the everyday kind that can take you by surprise, the kind you could miss if you were too busy thinking, planning or just being stuck in your head. A sweet old lady, bound in a hospital bed for weeks, and her husband climbing in every single day just before breakfast is served and slipping out just after visiting hours finish. Her family was told she was dying, unresponsive to treatment. They take shifts so she is never alone and without a prominently prompting incident, she makes a complete turnaround and heals herself. A miracle, just like that. Or one day you wake up, and without changing out of your pyjamas, step out to greet the powdery white snow falling from the heavens. Eyes blink twice, thrice, in disbelief. Tongue sticking out, I taste it and think “Oh it doesn’t taste like much, just water,” and then proceed to frolicking and dancing because it’s just. magical. And then those sporadic moments - whi...

Magic happens..when you..just be. Despite the risk of sounding like a lazy yogi, I’ll say it, my favorite pose is the Shavasana or the corpse pose where you lie down, tilt both palms to face the sky, relax all the muscles, release every tension in your body, open your heart and let the energy of the universe course through your entire being. It teaches us to truly lie in tranquility and accept. And these things are more difficult than we think. Acceptance doesn’t come easy when we live in a world that teaches us to ask why, when more of the exploration has been outward, to space and beyond, rather than inward, and especially when it necessitates letting go. After all, it’s always easier and simpler to hold on to what’s familiar and comfortable. But fear not, as when we do, it allows for more space to grow, more space for the universe to fill.  Running around Albert park is an activity I’ve gotten so accustomed to - I know all the turns, all the risky parts where a black swan can ju...

Like the sun’s rays in a sky filled with clouds, sometimes kindness just resonates and shines through. Amazingly ___. You could never string those two words together and combine them with my name to come up with a correct description of me. I never really had a very pronounced and astounding quality. But I always liked to think that for a multitude of predisposing factors as well as nature’s workings, I came out to have a good heart. Hence, I can say I am kind. I think. *wink* Working in a very multicultural environment has recently posed a challenge: how to overcome language barrier to still demonstrate care. I cannot overemphasize my love for words. I used to read the dictionary growing up. And talking, I always thought was the best and most effective way to communicate. (Sometimes, I’d even google translate my phrases to be able to talk to a patient) But I found that to be tedious especially when the patient starts rambling about with the notion that I can speak her language. In the...

It was sometime during my first week at my new post, the hospital. It was sometime after I began to feel a sense of fulfilment in what I was doing. It was sometime after I finished a morning shift, in between heading back to the apartment and pausing to reflect after I had gone to the place “where prices are down and staying down.” Unlike most Melbourne days, there weren’t much clouds in the sky. The horizon was so clear that one could actually see the stark difference of colours in the sky as the sun was taking a bow. (DAMN MY KEYBOARD IS MAKING ME TYPE IN BRITISH ENGLISH) Buckets of orange, red, yellow and blue splattered amid the towering buildings. People were, in a quick but still relaxed pace, crossing the street and heading into the old Flinders station. Trams keot passing by while the Yarra river stood still as always. And I sat still too. I was on the steps of the bustling Fed square, taking it all in.  Then this calm and simultaneously joyous feeling swept through me - MY...

A transplant has specific criteria or requires comprehensive compatibility usually gauged by repeated crossmatching and other tests. And even then, there is that possibility that the recipient rejects the donated/ transplanted organ. The same goes for migration or transplanting oneself to a new country, sometimes a newer environment, culture and life altogether. I always saw it as a big move, a bold undertaking hence one need not only be equipped with a certain set of skills but also undergo rigorous preparation. After all, moving means, leaving something behind while learning something new. And after 6 months of living in Australia, Ive picked up a few things. As to whether it makes me a more well-rounded person, Im not sure. I am certain however that these skills or lessons have assured me not only of survival and sustenance but also sweetness. :)  1. How to make a great cup of coffee and tea. Here in Australia, especially in Melbourne, coffee is sacred. There are sta...

(for December 2) CKD stands for Center for Kidney Diseases. It’s a specific area in the hospital where patients undergo dialysis which means their blood is drained from them, mobilized to a machine which filters it since their kidney can no longer do the job properly. After the blood has been filtered and cleaned, it is returned to the body through another large bore needle. It was in CKD where I met Leonilda, the most adorable old woman with pink cheeks and her husband. As a nurse on duty in the special area, it was my responsibility to assist the staff nurses and to take the clients’ blood pressures every half an hour. I was slowly approaching Leonilda who was lying on her lazy boy type of couch. She looked very comfortable and happy despite two humongous needles piercing her body as if vampire teeth sucking the blood out of her. No wonder she was so white and somewhat pale. However, her paleness was masked by her ultra pink lipstick and matching blush on which was somewhat out of pl...

I realize my inadequacy and tardiness. I have been tempted more than once to abolish this blog, after all, it’s been a little over four weeks and yet I still have no assurance that someone actually reads this. Yet I choose to think that you are there, you are reading this and you have come to a decision to read this regularly. And so I must not stop. Today is a Monday and it is a holiday. That means no classes for me and the rest of the student population. All thanks to the heroism of Andres Bonifacio. I have decided to allot this day for three major tasks: research, writing and cleaning. And therefore, I begin on my second task. The other day I met a professor who looked very much like a student. We talked but then I have to be completely honest that I was under the influence of alcohol. This developed to my inebriation and inevitable loss of my brain capacity to retain and recover the things we talked about. And so I cannot write about him. Instead I shall discuss Jansen. He owns a t...