Forever young.

You hold the key

To this madness inside of me

Once the key is in

All I yearn to do is sin

I lose my head

Say things better left unsaid

Follow you to every bend

Chase after you until the world’s end

All these are particularly true

But I could never say no to you

Now, I have to choose between sanity

In my residency program, before we can go on leaves, we need to write a reflection paper. This is mine on how COVID fucked-up my life.

I was supposed to go on leave last April 1-4. I was looking forward to my beach trip with my college friends. During the first half of March, COVID was a thing that I didn’t take seriously. I was not used to wearing a mask in the hospital and some disease which was fatal to the elderly would not change that. COVID was a faraway problem that was in Visayas at that time. COVID was not my problem and was not my enemy. March is my birth month, I love my birth month. My birthday celebrations were usually month-long. During the first half of month, I was in the middle of planning the parties that I would have during the latter half.

Then, patient zero happened. I was IMCU rotator at that time and patient zero was at MS. COVID was near but still not my problem. I remember being a little scared but patient zero was old. I am young so I would be fine. I thought things were under control. However, cases in TMC blew up. Healthcare workers were getting sick, family members of healthcare workers were getting sick. I even had my father admitted and tested for COVID because he travelled during the latter part of February and had cough. I was realizing how contagious and deadly COVID is.  

On that fateful day in March, it was discovered that a patient at the ACSU had a relative who was considered as a PUI at that time. The patient also had pneumonia. She also became a PUI. ACSU was converted to a COVID unit. Suddenly, COVID was my problem and my enemy. I could not believe that patients who just had cough days prior were proned and dying before my eyes. I could not believe that patients who had symptoms we would just brush off before were spreading the virus and losing their lives. It drove me crazy. There wasn’t (and isn’t) any cure. Despite our best efforts, nobody was getting better. People were dying without their loved-ones.  Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters were reduced to literal ashes. I had to tell the husbands, the wives, the sons and the daughters that their loved ones died. I had to explain that no, they could not see the body. I had to say that it was for their own safety. I had to hear their desperate cries on the other side of the line. Then, life went on, after post-mortem care, the room was cleaned and on to the next patient. All COVID patients that I handled and that were intubated died except for ONE.

I’ve been wishing for a day where I am alone and my laptop connected to the internet so I could finally write!

My heart and my mind have been filled with intense emotions the past few months (especially March) but since so much time has passed, my emotions have lulled and words escape me. I have no words but so much experience that greatly had an impact on my life. In all honestly, I should practice writing and start reading again.

Anyway, before this month ends and before my sanity consumed by the ICU, I must ponder on these things:

1. COVID experience last March (when the death toll was highest)

2. My last heartbreak getting married and being a father

3. My general feeling of emptiness, unfulfillment and sadness

4. Whether it would be okay if I were to end up alone forever

My last heartbreak was a kick in the nuts. (Yes, I don’t have nuts but boy, did it hurt.) For the past two days, I feel like I have been living it again.

I tried to make sense of my feelings. I tried looking for things I wrote during that time so I can better understand myself but I can’t find anything. I saw some things that I’m sure were about him but nothing I wrote myself. The reason is because, God, I was broken. I remember doing a lot of things to help me forget but sadly, writing made me remember.

We were friends. 

I think I always knew that I didn’t have a chance with him. 

I think I always knew that he would never care for me as much as I cared for him. 

I think I always knew that I will always be just a friend to him.  

I knew these things but the knowledge didn’t stop me. I continued caring for him, giving him time, teaching him, because helping him get better made me happy. 

For me, that’s love in its purest form. 

At that time, I taught myself that I label my feelings. I never called it love. But maybe, I did love him a little. 

Sometimes, when I write, I feel like I’m writing things that are of great importance. My words sound nice in my head.

However, I read by entry last week. It sucked. It even had an error!

It makes me think. 

Do I suck because I lack practice and maybe should write more?

or

Do I suck because I really suck and I was right not to pursue writing?

Well anyway, I am not a writer now which also sucks in its own way.

Last April, I liked someone. I liked someone so much I knew I could love him. But then, life happened. Things fell apart. He was an asshole at some point. Hell, he still owes me money. Even after all that, I hoped. I hoped against all hope that it was just the situation. I hoped that it was just not the right time at that time. 

If that was not bad enough, I even tried. I tried to reach out. I tried to talk to him even after he became an ass. 

I was stupid.

I hate myself for it.

As much as I would like to be a cool, calm and collected woman. I, for the life of me, cannot. I am crazy when I like someone.

It is (Yes, is, because it is an ongoing process.) taking me months to completely forget him.

I have always given my friends grief for being idiots when it comes to love.

I was awake the whole night prior. I was running on 2 hours of sleep. Maybe I yawned or something but you suggested that I sleep. It was the wedding day of my friend and I didn’t want to miss it. You said that you’d stay at the hotel lobby then wake me up. I said no. You said that you’d stay with me in my room. I said yes. So we went. 

I remember closing the curtains. The hotel room was cold and dark. Just how I like it whenever I try to fall asleep. I asked you to lie down beside me. I remember your deep-set eyes. Your stupid smile. You looked different without your glasses. 

It had been a really nice date and you made me laugh a lot.

I sighed.

I am on a 3-week medical leave. I have a lot of free time on my hands. I am only on my 7th day. 

Residency always made me feel abnormal. Not special. Just abnormal. The past 7 days, I was able to feel normal. I renewed my driver’s license. I am now a registered voter. I plan to go to the dentist and have a root canal in the next 14 days,

When I was in high school, I wrote a lot. I kept an almost regular blog. I was also writing poems left and right for love. 

I had a dream then.

I wanted to be like Shakespeare. I wanted to be eternal, never forgotten. I knew that I am only human and I will not live forever. I wanted to be remembered through my works. I wanted it so bad that I felt like I would go crazy if I didn’t achieve it. There were times that I would get so frustrated because I didn’t know how to achieve my dream.

I guess somehow from then to here, or better yet, from then a long while back, I gave up. 

I wanted to become a writer but I took up Nursing then studied Medicine both of which killed all of my hopes and dreams.

Honestly, I got scared. I really didn’t have it in me to pursue it but eventually find out that I am not good enough. I wanted it so much but I preferred non pursuance instead of failure.  

I would love to say that I regret giving up on my dream. I would love to say that I will now be actively pursuing it. But I cannot.

Contrary to popular belief, giving your best and doing your all do not guarantee the achievement of your dreams. 

“Is she really that terrified of being alone that she is willing to settle for that trash?”

“Maybe.”

It makes me sad for my friend. Granted, being alone is terrifying and sometimes, I miss the warmth of another person next to me. I am proud that as lonely and crazy and miserable I might be right now.

I am not settling.

If it is not the love that makes me feel alive.

If it is not the love that makes me want to write poems again.