This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world, and while she looked so sad in photographs, I absolutely love her, when she smiles... -Nine Days

Friday, March 24, 2006


Yesterday I found my steps in the hospital and as always, I had goose bumps all over my body. I had a 9 am appointment with a neurologist, to get an expert’s opinion on the whereabouts of my skull. I’ve this sort of cyst in my forehead, plus a frequent case of headaches, and after seeing two doctors who couldn’t be sure about what it was growing in my skull, I kind of gotten a little paranoid. My first bad news was that the neurologist was abroad and his secretary was unable to cancel immediately, so I had to wait for the next specialist who would be coming in at 3pm.

I never liked waiting, but when you’re waiting for an answer to an uncertainty such as this one, you wouldn’t mind counting the hours. In my case though, idle time is stressful to the mind. It makes me think a lot.

Like why I never liked hospitals. There’s something pungent, like the smell of death in the hallway. I know they should be given credit for saving--- or at least prolonging lives, but to me hospitals remind me of pain and suffering and death. They bring me a heavy feeling, being told in the face that we are living on borrowed time, the twist being not knowing the limits of that ‘time’. Twice I’ve been in the hospital and watched two people dear to me die in their bed. One was my lola who kept saying “dagat! dagat!” (as though she was seeing the beach in her final hours), the other one was my younger ‘brod” in the fraternity who died of colon cancer at the tender age of 18. Holding him on my last visit, he kept whispering, “sis, gusto ko ng magpahinga”. He passed away a few days later.

Hospitals scare me, as I fear for my life. Walking to the long white hallway was like walking towards the ‘unknown’. Everywhere I look I see people of different age, and different health conditions, in wheelchairs or stretchers or in their feet. Some appear physically strong but their eyes couldn’t lie anyhow. Some were physically faint but their eyes were those of a fighter. Some were just waiting, just as uncertain as I was.

Then I see doctors, and I’m reminded of my secret wish to become one. It’s like a very noble thing to be doing, making people feel better, giving answers to their questions and giving them a ray of hope. Sometimes even false hopes can make a difference. Why I didn’t end up in that white gown wasn’t for lack of trying or dreaming. I have an excellent memory and a particular interest in Science, especially Chemistry and Physics. But the thought of dissecting a cat already makes me want to throw up. I can’t be rational at the sight of pain, and blood and death. I probably wasn’t cut to become a doctor.

Anyway my name was called. A neurologist, a specialist in his field can’t give me answers as well. He needed a skull Xray to be sure, much to my panic. After the Xray I waited for the results. After what seemed like forever, the Xray was ready, but the doctor was gone. I’ve to be back today for the interpretation of the results, and hopefully some answers.

I never liked the hospitals, but somehow I have no choice. After this I’m headed there. Wish me luck.


Blogger Sef said...

I hope there is nothing serious found on your X-ray...

7:54 PM  
Blogger malu said...

thanks for the kind thoughts.. the doctor said i should be fine.

10:05 AM  

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