A 40 year old female patient came in due to a cough that started few hours ago. At last I’m not dealing with diabetes this time, or else, I could already build a sugar factory. It was the usual clinic day, seeing patients one after another, giving words of encouragement, sighing in between, every time someone has a high blood sugar, or reminding again and again when DM complications starts to show. Sometimes it is a thought-provoking combat against the scourge of diabetes. Having this woman in front of me with a one day cough, I thought her case was easy.

Shifting my brain back to General Medicine, we started our conversation and physical exam:

Patient: I started coughing this morning doc. It’s disturbing my sleep. Can you give me my antibiotic for this?

Me: Did you have fever? Difficulty of breathing? 

Patient: No I don’t have. But I usually run for an immediate consult and my doctors gave me antibiotic every time. 

Me: Well, based on my physical exam, your lungs are clear. You do however have fine tremors, a palpable thyroid gland, though only mildly enlarged, Your heart rate seemed a bit fast, your BP is slightly elevated and… Did you just say it started just today? 

Patient: Yes. I always have that seasonal cough and colds. But I have a transplant patient at home. 

Me: Oh I see. Then you should get flu shots yearly. We have a lot of vaccinations now for your age. I fear you might develop antibiotic resistance if you keep on taking it. 

Patient: Yes I know but I’m running out of budget after all the costs we've been thru. Next visit maybe. I just want the antibiotic. 

Me: Yes ma’am, unless there is a clinical indication, I can give you that.  What I’m saying is, you might have a thyroid disorder, and your cough might be cardiac in origin. 

Patient: But I already have a cardio doctor that deals with my heart. He gave me the medicine for blood pressure. I came to you for the antibiotic. 

Me: I mean your present problem may be hyperthyroidism with a thyrotoxic heart disease. It’s a problem in your thyroid gland hormones which gives a problem in your heart. Now if you want some antibiotic lets run these test and lets see if you have an infection.

 The patient returns after several hours bringing all the laboratory results..

Me: The tests confirmed my suspicion of a thyroid disorder. Here’s the medicine for your thyroid, and here’s for the heart. You take this every… 

Patient: I did all your tests doctor, now can I have my antibiotic and attend to a post transplant patient?  

Me: You’re a care-giver now? 

Patient: Yes, a care-giver, at home, to my only daughter..I don’t want her to get this cough. 

Me: May I ask what organ ? 

Patient: Kidney. It got injured in a car accident and she’s diabetic, type 1, on insulin since 10 years old.

Hearing those, I prescribed her the pill she desperately asked for,  allowing my medical principles to bend a little while giving advice on vaccinations and prophylaxis.

When you’re a mother, sometimes you are blinded by the welfare of your children that you wouldn't take any principles and arguments attached to these. She was never interested in her illness. It was her daughter she wanted to protect. Here’s  a mother who is brave enough to raise a Type 1 DM child and strong enough to fight for her child’s welfare over her own. Shame on me for not paying attention immediately.

And I thought I wasn't dealing with diabetes this time.

Happy mother’s day to all the mothers in the world.

Breathing deeply, mind running, panic…

That’s after I knew I have to perform after giving birth. 
So how do you speed up recovery?

I usually hated my physical looks during pregnancy. But in this last gestation, I have embraced it silently with an underground agenda to strike back on my beauty regimen after delivery. Due to a temporary restraining order to the salon and spa issued for pregnant women (for medical reasons), I have waited nine long months of uncut, undone hair, dry, wavy and unevenly colored without any treatment till the ban is lifted, which also means I have to wait till my delivery. So it came as a shock to me to learn that my parents are having their 2nd wedding in a grand Renewal of Vows within the time table of my EDD (Expected Date of Delivery).

When they announced to move their 40th wedding anniversary a month later than their official anniversary, I still complained as I was expected to sing, dance, and entertain guests while being able to function as a breast-feeding mom. Perhaps because I have just delivered a baby, they have given me a little over a month to compose myself. After all, the obvious ravages pregnancy has done to the weight and skin of this panicked-stricken self- conscious mom required a stat overhaul. I actually told my parents to move the celebration 6 months later so I’ll be back to the usual me. They gave me 6 weeks.

So here goes the constant search to rid off pregnancy discolorations, running low on  dermatologist consults. I tried spa-hopping for an effective scrub offers, but all gave a shrugged shoulders with no assurance to magically vanish these displeasing masks in a month’s time. Unbelievably, everything now was on the go as I was able to convince my husband to sing with me the Twilight’s “Thousand Years” and dance to the medley of cha-cha and swing, which he had never ever done in years. Again, how would I be judged as a graceful partner of my dashing husband? I suddenly turned vain, my friend told me. Of course, my retaliation must come in full battle gear because my siblings and I am at the front line of a compulsory variety presentation for my parents. And front line meant all the scrutiny’s on us.

And literary so up front that I was tasked to give a welcome address. It was supposed to be just short, but I think my parents deserved more from me, not just for the panic attacks and the post-partum blues. They merit a good welcome speech from their only daughter as a sign of gratitude for rescheduling the wedding day (even if its just for a month), and for considering my condition, plus of course, gratitude for raising me with much love and concern. So I made one fairly nice short speech hoping to touch the listening crowd and not just a simple welcome greetings to the guests.













And I think I did well. After the show, the audience commended, and some couples who wished to renew their vows wanted to ask for a copy. Unfortunately, I only have one. I gave my dad my speech after it was over. They might love to review what I said to the crowd. 

As for the rest, I gave this blog site. Here’s the link: http://annasantosbonje.blogspot.com/2013/05/time-and-distance.html
Read on ..

(Welcome Address @ my parent's Renewal of Vows)

Good evening beloved guests and relatives. Our family is very much grateful and ecstatic in seeing you all so lovely and elegantly dressed in this occasion. Our celebration today means so much to us, to our parents most especially, and we are happy to share with you this moment of joy hoping to make this a part of your memory too as it is already a part of our family’s history, ready to be told to the coming generations as a brilliant example of love. Love beating distance and loneliness.

A lot of people may have asked why celebrate at their 40^th anniversary. Why not wait for a golden wedding? The answer is simple. We would like to enjoy rehearsing our groovy dance moves with our parents while they can still kick and sway. It is heartening to see them walk through the isle with an upright spine, smiling, while they still can remember the first time they tread the isle together 40 years ago, young, active, beautiful, happy but anxious and uncertain. Our parents never had this grand wedding celebration before, for they are not born with a silver spoon. But through it all, after all the trials God has given them, it is worthy to say that they have survived and succeeded 40 long years conquering time and distance, penniless or not.

My dad is the foundation of our family, though he used to say he’s an absentee father, my mom took his role while he is away sailing ships. She keeps us strong; she’s the one who holds our family together like the fist of an iron hand. While my mom exhibits an aura of a commander-in-chief that comes soaring high wanting to reach her dreams for the family, my dad is the calm wind beneath her wings that made it all possible. He always loves my mom so much that whenever adversities came along, he chooses to take mom’s side, never neutral. Everything he does was for her, even to this wedding day.

Indeed, our parents may have opposite characters but they complement each other, like sun and moon, day and night, coffee and cream, ebony and ivory. They are both best friends and lovers; they cannot stand without the other. They are the perfect example of being in love and happily married. And we, their children, are all aware that this great love they have for each other has always been a 40 years of God-centered marriage. They keep the faith and stand still. That’s why we celebrate today to thank the Almighty for giving them good health and a strong marriage, that no matter how much people would like to tempt and ruin this family, we knew that their marriage is made in heaven...

Allow me to end with this inspiring poem about love:

Treasure what you have... 

Time is too slow for those who wait; 

Too swift for those who fear; 

Too long for those who grief; 

Too short for those who rejoice; 

But for those who love... 

Time is Eternity.

So to all of you with someone special in your heart, cherish that person, and every moment that you spend together. We don’t know what the future may bring, but if we cherish, time and distance isn’t a barrier at all
.
Good evening everybody, and welcome to this show of love.

(The story behind the making of this welcome speech is in this link: http://annasantosbonje.blogspot.com/2013/05/post-pregnancy-panic-attacks.html) ciao!
.

Few years ago, my life hits the rock-hard bottom. An avalanche of problems came snowballing one after the other, and I could not even talked about it, more so blogged it. I am perhaps too proud of success that made my pride got stuck up there refusing to bow down accepting defeat. My marriage, my kids, our finances, my parents and our properties, everything was a mess. Worst, I mess around too. The little rebel in me arises once again to wreck until I get what I want.

I don’t want to brag but I never had problems I can’t resolve in the past, everything had been spoon-fed. God's been good to me always. If to gauge the level of difficulty, the trials He had given me was easy, according to some. And I grumbled on the easy ones too; like not hitting the passing marks, or blocked from competing in the prestigious music festival, or heart broken by someone and thinking I’m going to die from heartache. Recalling those, I can't help laughing how shallow my tears were.

In this game of life, my challenges nowadays are two steps higher. But I never complained “why me?” There are more people who have greater problems than I have right now. Indeed it's strange to have lost the real laughter, or joke about the funny things in life, or call a friend anytime anywhere to just have fun with. It seems like I have no right for fun and laughter once I had decided to take responsibility. It has long deserted me and the world became stiff as mature problems came to face upfront. Problems you just can't run away from, not even running as far as Manila. We can’t remain as a child, now that we have children of my own.

When I dwell on these negative emotions and mortify myself inside my room, I am allowing the circumstances to pull me down. Hence, I've got to move on from this life’s harsher adversaries. No one knows I have come to this battle untrained, yet can I just retreat or quit? Nope. Quitting is  a far-fetched reality. As we grow, our challenges transform to deal with far heavy situations than grades, competitions and puppy love. Life is not a computer game where we press marriage ‘undo’ or the kids ‘delete’, nor change our parents when they have failed us.

Sometimes, it takes time to understand why I was given such difficult task, or why I have to meet and deal with difficult people. But I realized in time that everything happens for a reason. I don’t usually have those  “when it rains, it pours” moment, but I learned my lesson well. When God closes the door, the next one that opens is always much better and is worth the wait. It amazes me how things just fall into place right when I needed it. When I am at my wits end trying to meet all ends, an opportunity came knocking assuring me that everything will be alright. Suddenly I won’t have to play hard on myself anymore. Everything will be provided for if we believe.

I met an old friend from 25 years ago. I have never heard of him since the time I left him crushed and upset. No closure. Nothing. I have chosen my academics over him without much explanation and transferred to a more prestigious catholic-run all-girls school. It was perhaps the most brutal way i have ever done to an innocent man who might believed of love. High school romance was said to be just puppy love, nothing but curiosity. I wondered how things was for him after I left.

When I was a teen-ager, I love being rescued from a tormented relationship, I waited for somebody to rescue me from pain deceit and jealousy, only to find out I’m on the same mess again that needs another rescuing. And it goes on and on till my knight in shining armor arrived to bring me to the altar of forevermore.

So its all about choices. In the end, what matters are the choices we made years back, and the change that made us a better and stronger person. Somehow have I hurt someone in the process of choosing to let go, I hope I am forgiven as I have now forgiven those who have hurt me and destroyed my belief in loving..

           What's important in life is that we've met people along the way, enjoyed their company, made memories, and moved on. That when we grow old, reminiscing in our rocking chair, we smile and remember that we've touched each others lives one fine day and made us a better person. And that’s you to me.

Choices…options…alternatives… recourse…

Does it matter in the end?

Every now and then I am torn between two options.  Love versus career. Freedom versus commitment. Money versus family . Generalist versus specialist. And with this, every decision entails a sacrifice.

Why can’t I have both?.

Sounds childish, really. And selfish too. My friends think I seem to appear overindulge in that bratty side of me, though I’m not a spoiled bitch. They knew I am lucky to have a mom&dad-to-the-rescue type of family, but they also knew that sometimes luck is not just on my side. That’s how fair God is amid all the world’s biased disposition. He does not give most all at once, at least to me.

It only takes a matter of time to realize why things don’t turn out the way we wished for. Or why prayers have been left unanswered or delayed. And only to find out later that it is essential in sharpening our skills hence becoming a better person. We have been so hard on ourselves, trying over and over, just to be the best of the best. We have been chasing this race longer than we think,  always competing for recognition and prestige, which only matters to those who control the standard.

Honestly, I might grow tired of this forward-always-onward pace. Was it really worth it working our buts off upgrading to obtain peer acceptance into a certain society? Career-wise perhaps yes, but its never an assurance. We are always slaves of time and circumstances. There’s no easy way to success, no short cut.

In the end, ruminating in our twilight years,  as quoted by many, what matters is how well we lived our lives. It is not measured by how popular we are, how many titles we had, and how many sub-specialties we placed on our wall board. It is suffice to say that life would  have better meaning if we partake in someone's struggles along the way, put a smile in their faces, and touched their lives.  And lastly, to me, what matters in the end is how well my children have become, how good I am as a wife to my husband, how well my husband loved me, how I am as a sister, a daughter and a friend.

Our short stay in this world is a reflection of ourselves, not of how far we have achieved, but of how less we have regrets in our life, in the end.

It’s different this time, I said to myself. I have to bear my weight upon rising from my bed, wary of that cramps that goes along with these stretching muscles, slowly walking, gasping a breath every time, blood sugar rising.  What had just happened? Perhaps age has come to terms with reality, complications suddenly appear when you least expect it. And no matter how I tried to conceal, it’s already here. My standing mirror announced I'm a hippo, lazy and big. I was feeling grouchy that morning after the sonogram confirmation. I am pregnant. And yes, it’s a baby boy, still a boy, XY.  No matter how much I insisted with my OB-sonologist that this might be a girl, he would always say he's 97% sure and never been wrong so far.

I thought another baby will do, but seriously, three boys?? Sooner than a flash of lighting, anxiety hits me. I went from a happy pregnant into an anxious preggy. A sudden shift of hormones momentarily after gender identification. My two handsome sons are uniquely mischievous that I’ve tried many ways to neutralize their playful naughtiness.Why wouldn't I be anxious? Boxing and wrestling are their favorite game, bruises and head bumps as the usual endpoint for crying, ice packs as our main first-aid rescue, and the most overused cry for help is "Mamaaaaaaa!". With my little boys, they stormed our house from their rough play,  toys destroyed soon after playthings landed into their hands, furniture acquiring multiple stab wounds, TV screens with lacerations and walls doodled with crayons guiltless and proud of their undefined graffiti. Our home decors and interior designs  became fully revised and redecorated.

And yet, our house will never be a home without my sons. I will not exchange the glory of their laughter, nor the awesomeness of their unique talents, over classy unscathed furniture.  Material things can never replace the happiness I see over their twinkling eyes as they grow and venture in their own way. It’s a place of bliss at the epicenter of a cluttered messy home. It’s a heavenly feeling that belonged to me in a paradise that I can never explain to those who cannot bear a child.

I know I’m just creating my own dilemma by worrying how to raise boys. But who wouldn't be? Drugs, guns and sex looms from highly acceptable immorality  in this changing norms of the present society . So I told myself quite positively, to stop worrying and whining, self-convincing that I'll be fine raising these three boys into responsible adults. The strength of prayers combined with a mother’s will drives a power to guide kids into the proper direction. Patting my back, I repeatedly muttered, "I can do this".

Of course, this wouldn't be possible without my husband's encouraging and optimistic aura, the one responsible for these boys to appear in our lives. He bragged that moms who raised boys looked younger than their spouse, because sons tend to love their mom so much. And so whenever I get cranky looking over my inflated body after months of sticking it out literally, I asked him "Nakakita ka na ba ng seksing buntis?" (Had you ever seen a sexy pregnant lady?), he simply replied "I see her everyday".

Smiling to myself, I know some women are envious out there. Wouldn't it be nice to be surrounded and loved by boys?

Hence, starting at that moment, I prefer to be grateful. If this is 97% boy, I’ll let go of that 3% chance.  Our contentment and happiness depends on how we see and bear the challenges that God gave us. That's how I should be living my life.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

 

Links to this post

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive – telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said : “If you noticed, all the nice-looking expensive cups have been taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases, it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What was all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups… And then you began  eyeing each others cups.

Now consider this: life is the coffee; the jobs, money, and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live.

Life is like a cup of coffee. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee. Savor the coffee, not the cups! The happiest people don’t have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything.

Live simply. Love generously. Forgive until it hurts. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Live uprightly.

Ever since I left home and be trained in the metropolis, the net has been my comfort zone. Why wouldn’t it be?

Life here is in a fast paced desolate living. As I rushed at the train station in anticipation for my ride or wait along the busy street for a cab, I ruminate about how strange being alone in a new place.

My social life is in rigor mortis and I still had not figured out how to call the CSI for final analysis. No friends, no family to talk to. Not even drinking buddies to relax with after a harsh day. Nearly atypical.

It makes me wonder if my life has been infiltrated by aliens or is this just a case of arrested development. My vital signs show I’m still stable and as I take my emotional pulse I realized I am not here for the social life, I am here to learn and to become what I want to be someday.

But I just need a life. Would it be a crime to want to get that verve up and coming, knowing I am a social being that needs friends around so I can move and lift my spirit? Sure, the internet held me hostage from decrepitude by accessing friends in my Facebook where it seems like every day is a party day.

But wait, the verdict says that’s not reality. Whenever I’m stuck in my laptop getting too unconscious of my time and space, I’m hearing someone saying “Yeah, right. Get a life!” I looked around and it was just me in this empty house. It would have been an amusing sight if my cups and dishes and teapots would speak the “Beauty and the Beast’-fairytale way. But then you have to hit me in the head real hard by now.

Obviously, I’m a bit of a social rut at the moment and surfing doesn’t fix the problem. And well, blogging doesn’t fix it too. It’s relatively easy to throw my spare hours away in front of my computer wasting time surfing the web for useless facts, mumbling about researches getting nowhere and then realizing later how vicious  my time zone has changed.

I dread getting comfortable filling my time with half-decent substitute for making new friends. I’d rather shut my internet out and hit the books. Who says I couldn’t live without the internet? I can do more useful stuff by total online disconnection, I am just not into total isolation.

Once, my mom said Facebook is evil. And I just laugh.  I don’t believe facebook lovers are self-absorbed and narcissistic. Those are ways to seek comfort and ego-boost, making it rather therapeutic and cathartic. Letting your life engulfed by it is what makes it counter-productive.

And being online is not a reality life line. Real life is when you begin putting yourself out there in the real world in the circle of some groups’ radar, ready to be invited or make plans to hang out with.

And so here I am, while I’m having my fellowship training in this new place, I’m crossing my fingers (*wink*). Consequently, first thing’s first. We have to know our priorities so we’ll know when to connect and disconnect.

 
 



Photo credits: doc Peter Tabar

How do you gauge masculinity? Is it on solid biceps muscles or the sexy grooved trunk?


Others do not have those, but yet still feel masculine, macho or chauvinist. Whatever you call it. Some are with thin jaw lines and front teeth more defined than a horse's facial plane, and yet still feel that every hot chick that walked pass him desires him deeply to their bedroom. Eeww... I wanted to vomit.


How do you define this manhood? Is it conceit? Or self denial? Or insecurity hiding under the façade of overconfidence?


There are those, for some reason, fascinates himself by telling his girlfriend how he was glanced at and greeted by another sexy lass, or how he thought his ex was still in-love with him, or how unforgettably titillating he was in bed in each of his physical sensual encounters, and continued to narrate how he was torn by women fighting over him.


Alas! He emerged victorious from the luxury of seeing a freaking jealous girl parading to make a scene, searching for her greatest adversary, in a fighting stance. I see these men got nerves too tight! That even a prescription of Pregabalin or Gabapentin for repair of nerve damage won't penetrate his senseless neurons.

I have known this type of male specie, these genre of sexist men, but not necessarily sexy. Their "penile-centric" sentiment is their flawed nature, a genial chaos. I have tried to be cautious ever since, avoiding being the victim of their predatory attitude.

But these sexist men should beware. Somebody might love to freak their already freaking jealous girlfriend by taking advantage of his male's weakness, by feeding something he loved to hear into his ballooning ego in a dwindling physical manner. He might not know his flawed nature was just being played on, used against his girl….


But then again, does it concern him at all?


Well, my advice is not to the sexist men, for they know not what to do without their "pogi" points. I just felt sorry for the girls who lived with these types of men. Their life would be constantly on guard, forever on a fighting stance; a bit jittery and jumpy, and threatened on the edge. If all men are like this, making their women lose confidence on themselves, well, I'd rather live without a man at all.

When I fell from the tree, I may had scratched a knee, but I brushed it off and walked through pain, till the pain's gone. I may had made a false move and tripped myself into the canal, but I rose from shame and washed it off. 


Diving can be pretty scary if you don’t know how to swim. Yet it must not stop there. Nothing has to hold you back from exploring your wildest wishes and aspirations, to open your heart to the possibilities and discover who you are, what you want, and what you can do. I’m afraid that life will pass me by if I don’t dare. I will remain at this point forever and I might never get a chance to see the other side of the world had I given up. 


Life is full of possibilities, and nothing is impossible. If it meant climbing a mountain’s peek or doing a Bungee jump to fulfill your heart’s desire and exist for one moment then let it be. Your limitations is all yours to break. 


Go,  dare life!