03.25.2009
I'm halfway through the didactics of my hemodialysis course. We're quite a big group, more than 40 in all and, expectedly, there are groups within this group, circles within the big circle.
It does not fail to surprise me that with our vaunted hospitality and friendliness as a people, the majority of us are intrinsically shy and aloof, not quick to strike a conversation with strangers. I myself am managing with friendly one and two-liners, professional queries to and discussions with my more knowledgeable and experienced colleagues, as well as smiles and gestures of politeness.
Our preceptors are all experienced and thorough professionals in nephrology and hemodialysis, save for one or two who are obviously neither nurses or doctors and who are markedly more into sales and public relations and which fact, as a consequence, is very evident in their discourse.
All in all, there is this eagerness to learn all there is to learn about hemodialysis which, in all likelihood and apart from our common aspiration to become full-pledged hemodialysis nurses, also stems from wanting to make the most out of our pecuniary and time investments.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
03.21.2009
I am eternally indebted and grateful to all those who have taught me, from my earliest childhood scribblings and utterances, to my present-day knowledge and skills. Some, if not all, knowledge eventually becomes obsolete, but if the perpetual curiosity is there then one is set for the road to further discoveries and, consequently, more knowledge.
It is precisely the reason why I find it laborious to tolerate my son's educators in Science and English. I haven't become intellectually superior and arrogant over the years; there is still so much to learn and numbers continue to stupefy me. The truth is, my inadequacies make me humble. Pretending to impart knowledge when you actually cannot, is another matter altogether. It is a crime against knowledge itself. It is superlative crassness. It obliterates curiosity and perpetuates ignorance. If my son's educators were like viruses, they would be like the Black Death, effectively decimating knowledge by the tens of thousands.
I am eternally indebted and grateful to all those who have taught me, from my earliest childhood scribblings and utterances, to my present-day knowledge and skills. Some, if not all, knowledge eventually becomes obsolete, but if the perpetual curiosity is there then one is set for the road to further discoveries and, consequently, more knowledge.
It is precisely the reason why I find it laborious to tolerate my son's educators in Science and English. I haven't become intellectually superior and arrogant over the years; there is still so much to learn and numbers continue to stupefy me. The truth is, my inadequacies make me humble. Pretending to impart knowledge when you actually cannot, is another matter altogether. It is a crime against knowledge itself. It is superlative crassness. It obliterates curiosity and perpetuates ignorance. If my son's educators were like viruses, they would be like the Black Death, effectively decimating knowledge by the tens of thousands.
03.21.2009
I feel guilty that at times I have to learn about other people's misfortunes first before I can have a full appreciation of the many blessings I have. I take so many things for granted.
I learned yesterday that a nursing classmate and friend lost her marriage only very recently. And to think I thought they had it all made: A nice house, beautiful children, expensive late-model cars, annual summer get-aways, etc. They had everything, or at least nearly everything. I told her I felt genuinely sorry for her, her children, and the marriage. She's a brave soul and she's optimistic. She's moving on.
My parents are celebrating their 50th this year, and my wife and I, our 25th. A wonderful coincidence! These marriages are strong and spiritually-blessed (if not materially). They are a rarity nowadays as families become besieged from all fronts by all sorts of imaginable forces which aim to tear them apart.
I already have some of the best things in life: A loving wife, two wonderful children, a family steeped in "old school" values and traditions and, most importantly, deep and relevant spiritual beliefs and commitments.
I feel guilty that at times I have to learn about other people's misfortunes first before I can have a full appreciation of the many blessings I have. I take so many things for granted.
I learned yesterday that a nursing classmate and friend lost her marriage only very recently. And to think I thought they had it all made: A nice house, beautiful children, expensive late-model cars, annual summer get-aways, etc. They had everything, or at least nearly everything. I told her I felt genuinely sorry for her, her children, and the marriage. She's a brave soul and she's optimistic. She's moving on.
My parents are celebrating their 50th this year, and my wife and I, our 25th. A wonderful coincidence! These marriages are strong and spiritually-blessed (if not materially). They are a rarity nowadays as families become besieged from all fronts by all sorts of imaginable forces which aim to tear them apart.
I already have some of the best things in life: A loving wife, two wonderful children, a family steeped in "old school" values and traditions and, most importantly, deep and relevant spiritual beliefs and commitments.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Love Poem
03.19.2009
I’ve noticed that I’m apt to be reflective and sentimental during lulls from activities dictated by necessity (my job, household chores, etc.). My views change from mundane, trivial, to one that is pure love and appreciation of spiritually uplifting and aesthetic things.
During one such lull, I was suddenly overpowered by an intense longing for those whom I hold dear, most especially those with whom I could not be with.
I wrote this poem for them:
A Love Poem
For whatever it’s worth
To declare that
I hug you in my dreams,
And summon memories
Of our togetherness
In my space and solitude;
Time is swift, and
Life is fleeting, and
I may not look into
Your eyes or hold
Your hand again;
You or I
May choose to go, or
Against our wishes,
Be called to leave,
Without so much as even
A glance back
At the ghostly trails we create
In time, or the yellowed pages
With fading words I wrote.
I’ve noticed that I’m apt to be reflective and sentimental during lulls from activities dictated by necessity (my job, household chores, etc.). My views change from mundane, trivial, to one that is pure love and appreciation of spiritually uplifting and aesthetic things.
During one such lull, I was suddenly overpowered by an intense longing for those whom I hold dear, most especially those with whom I could not be with.
I wrote this poem for them:
A Love Poem
For whatever it’s worth
To declare that
I hug you in my dreams,
And summon memories
Of our togetherness
In my space and solitude;
Time is swift, and
Life is fleeting, and
I may not look into
Your eyes or hold
Your hand again;
You or I
May choose to go, or
Against our wishes,
Be called to leave,
Without so much as even
A glance back
At the ghostly trails we create
In time, or the yellowed pages
With fading words I wrote.
A time for poetry...
03.18.2009
When my cousin, Zony, died November of last year, I felt compelled to write her a poem, if only to vent my sadness. We’ve not seen each other for almost 30 years, I believe, since she left to work as a nurse in the U.S. I have many fond memories of our childhood together.
Here is that poem:
To Zony
Farewell, friend and loved one,
You left while
Some of us were having fun,
And others were
Uncertain of their tomorrows.
They all come back, overwhelmingly,
In torrents and waves,
Memories of long ago, faint
But comfortably familiar:
The afternoon games we thought
Were endless,
The beetles, the cicadas, the grasshoppers, the frogs,
The tin can phones, the rusty tricycle,
Our "Sound of Music" choir
In falsetto voices,
And Denny's black and red
Chinese checkers chips
Which I stole and hid
But for which deed I was found out!
The years and wants and needs
Took their toll on ties,
But you were just there, even
Just thousands of miles far,
But you were there, as you have
Always been tucked away
In my mind and heart.
When my cousin, Zony, died November of last year, I felt compelled to write her a poem, if only to vent my sadness. We’ve not seen each other for almost 30 years, I believe, since she left to work as a nurse in the U.S. I have many fond memories of our childhood together.
Here is that poem:
To Zony
Farewell, friend and loved one,
You left while
Some of us were having fun,
And others were
Uncertain of their tomorrows.
They all come back, overwhelmingly,
In torrents and waves,
Memories of long ago, faint
But comfortably familiar:
The afternoon games we thought
Were endless,
The beetles, the cicadas, the grasshoppers, the frogs,
The tin can phones, the rusty tricycle,
Our "Sound of Music" choir
In falsetto voices,
And Denny's black and red
Chinese checkers chips
Which I stole and hid
But for which deed I was found out!
The years and wants and needs
Took their toll on ties,
But you were just there, even
Just thousands of miles far,
But you were there, as you have
Always been tucked away
In my mind and heart.
03.11.2009
My final night at my call center job. No, they didn’t kick me out. I quit. I had to decide to advance my nursing. It’s basically now or never.
The present time is fraught with economic hardships and this job, although it doesn’t pay that much, pays regularly.
I forge ahead on faith and prayer.
My final night at my call center job. No, they didn’t kick me out. I quit. I had to decide to advance my nursing. It’s basically now or never.
The present time is fraught with economic hardships and this job, although it doesn’t pay that much, pays regularly.
I forge ahead on faith and prayer.
02.25.2009
I completed most of my IVT cases yesterday, and made two new friends, Dennis and Karen. Dennis is a second-courser like myself, but much younger at 32. Karen, on the other hand, is two years younger than my daughter, Denise.
I see in them both the dedication to become genuine nurses, although like the majority, we have plans to leave the country. How sad! And how eloquent that our plans to pursue our dreams elsewhere speaks of our general perceptions about economic opportunities here.
We were wowed and awed by our fellow nurses at ER. They displayed such presence of mind, confidence, teamwork, and venipuncture skills. Do I still have the time and opportunity to become like them?
I completed most of my IVT cases yesterday, and made two new friends, Dennis and Karen. Dennis is a second-courser like myself, but much younger at 32. Karen, on the other hand, is two years younger than my daughter, Denise.
I see in them both the dedication to become genuine nurses, although like the majority, we have plans to leave the country. How sad! And how eloquent that our plans to pursue our dreams elsewhere speaks of our general perceptions about economic opportunities here.
We were wowed and awed by our fellow nurses at ER. They displayed such presence of mind, confidence, teamwork, and venipuncture skills. Do I still have the time and opportunity to become like them?
02.17.2009
Yesterday, Karla, our boss bade us goodbye. She was also a casualty of the economic recession. Of all the people they had to let go, I cannot understand, for the life of me, why Karla was amongst them. Those who survived the purge are, in the majority, “boot and ass lickers”, as I call them.
I can count Karla as amongst the most wonderful bosses one could wish for. She is a kind and gentle soul, always thinking of other people’s concerns. She would make a good nurse, if she chooses to become one.
Now us remnants are left to fend for ourselves. We’ll probably be broken up and redistributed to other groups. That will then be the conclusion of it all.
Yesterday, Karla, our boss bade us goodbye. She was also a casualty of the economic recession. Of all the people they had to let go, I cannot understand, for the life of me, why Karla was amongst them. Those who survived the purge are, in the majority, “boot and ass lickers”, as I call them.
I can count Karla as amongst the most wonderful bosses one could wish for. She is a kind and gentle soul, always thinking of other people’s concerns. She would make a good nurse, if she chooses to become one.
Now us remnants are left to fend for ourselves. We’ll probably be broken up and redistributed to other groups. That will then be the conclusion of it all.
02.14.2009
I’ve completed what is considered a ritual “must” for nurses nowadays, a three-day intravenous therapy training course. I’ve been thrown into the company of my fellow nurses. I belonged, so to speak. Each nurse, though, still has his/her individuality. Each of us has a story to tell. Each has fears and dreams. We share a great many things, including our anxieties about causing pain and discomfort to others, which we do not want. Nurses, at least the ones I’ve known thus far, are among the gentlest creatures on earth.
I’ve completed what is considered a ritual “must” for nurses nowadays, a three-day intravenous therapy training course. I’ve been thrown into the company of my fellow nurses. I belonged, so to speak. Each nurse, though, still has his/her individuality. Each of us has a story to tell. Each has fears and dreams. We share a great many things, including our anxieties about causing pain and discomfort to others, which we do not want. Nurses, at least the ones I’ve known thus far, are among the gentlest creatures on earth.
02.09.2009
Today I bid goodbye to friends. No, I wasn’t going away. They were. Casualties of the economic recession. They were not healthcare workers like myself. I’m a misfit: A middle-aged nurse in a call center, working with predominantly young and younger people. I feel some pride that I’m not an economic casualty just as yet. To think that I’ve bested many of these young people gives me some additional measure of confidence. But my good feelings are short-lived. I kind of miss their annoying, juvenile quips and their seeming lack of seriousness. But they’re young! Just like I was 20 or so years ago. My friends, I really enjoyed our relatively brief time together; working with you and having a glimpse of the more personal aspects of your lives. Move forward! You’re young! The world is yours!
As for myself, I shall move on like what I’ve always done. God and my loves inspire me to go on.
Today I bid goodbye to friends. No, I wasn’t going away. They were. Casualties of the economic recession. They were not healthcare workers like myself. I’m a misfit: A middle-aged nurse in a call center, working with predominantly young and younger people. I feel some pride that I’m not an economic casualty just as yet. To think that I’ve bested many of these young people gives me some additional measure of confidence. But my good feelings are short-lived. I kind of miss their annoying, juvenile quips and their seeming lack of seriousness. But they’re young! Just like I was 20 or so years ago. My friends, I really enjoyed our relatively brief time together; working with you and having a glimpse of the more personal aspects of your lives. Move forward! You’re young! The world is yours!
As for myself, I shall move on like what I’ve always done. God and my loves inspire me to go on.
02.04.2009
There are occasions when matters are simply very fluid, when much is accomplished with the minimum of effort. These are the times when thoughts or ideas race through my mind, and many are forever lost as I fail to write them down. Often I would make an effort to devise some sort of memory aid to help me remember. At times it fulfills its purpose; other times, the sought-after concepts are relegated to my subconscious, almost irretrievable until some event, be it significant or otherwise, sends them back fo the forefront of my mainstream thoughts.
There are occasions when matters are simply very fluid, when much is accomplished with the minimum of effort. These are the times when thoughts or ideas race through my mind, and many are forever lost as I fail to write them down. Often I would make an effort to devise some sort of memory aid to help me remember. At times it fulfills its purpose; other times, the sought-after concepts are relegated to my subconscious, almost irretrievable until some event, be it significant or otherwise, sends them back fo the forefront of my mainstream thoughts.
01.26.2009
It dawned on me that life may be compared to being enrolled in an art class. Each one of us is given the tools of the trade, and at the end of the term we will have come up with our creations.
In this class we are given free rein to arrange and rearrange, construct and de-construct, think, compare, strategize, with the end in view of producing something which may be good or bad, ugly or beautiful, beneficial or not. Each one has to come up with something to show for one’s time in the class.
There are those of us who will produce masterpieces; some, only possible mediocrities; others, merely blobs of color of clay, proto-creations at best.
Which one will I be?
It dawned on me that life may be compared to being enrolled in an art class. Each one of us is given the tools of the trade, and at the end of the term we will have come up with our creations.
In this class we are given free rein to arrange and rearrange, construct and de-construct, think, compare, strategize, with the end in view of producing something which may be good or bad, ugly or beautiful, beneficial or not. Each one has to come up with something to show for one’s time in the class.
There are those of us who will produce masterpieces; some, only possible mediocrities; others, merely blobs of color of clay, proto-creations at best.
Which one will I be?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
01.25.2009
Whenever I have the luxury to engage in introspective thinking, I would debate on the worth or usefulness of my collective aspirations, hopes, and dreams, and the efforts I exert and the activities I plan so that I could be met with some measure of success.
Life is quite brief and so why do I spend a great part of it aspiring for things I may never have, or trying to become what I may never be? I personally know of a handful of people who have checked out with much unfinished business, unfulfilled dreams, and unforgiven sins. What makes me think that I may fare any better escapes me.
Life spans may be on the rise but the majority still die before they become a century old. Centenarians are still a rare breed. Also, there are no guarantees that the quality of life keeps pace with its length. This is my main reason why I do not desire or even imagine myself growing too old for my own good, i.e. becoming a liability and a burden to those around me, unable to perform even the most basic of daily activities. I’d rather be dead than find myself in such situations.
Whenever I have the luxury to engage in introspective thinking, I would debate on the worth or usefulness of my collective aspirations, hopes, and dreams, and the efforts I exert and the activities I plan so that I could be met with some measure of success.
Life is quite brief and so why do I spend a great part of it aspiring for things I may never have, or trying to become what I may never be? I personally know of a handful of people who have checked out with much unfinished business, unfulfilled dreams, and unforgiven sins. What makes me think that I may fare any better escapes me.
Life spans may be on the rise but the majority still die before they become a century old. Centenarians are still a rare breed. Also, there are no guarantees that the quality of life keeps pace with its length. This is my main reason why I do not desire or even imagine myself growing too old for my own good, i.e. becoming a liability and a burden to those around me, unable to perform even the most basic of daily activities. I’d rather be dead than find myself in such situations.
Introduction
At almost half a century old, many will wonder at the wisdom (or folly) of starting (or attempting to start) a chronicle of my musings, or even why I’ve decided on a second vocation of nursing. I say each time is opportune to embark on new adventures in life, since our allotted time is brief. If I did not start anything, I may miss discovering additional beautiful and wonderful moments destined for me, like touching the lives of other people and inspiring them, and discovering new talents I was born with and didn’t know I have.
Life is truly a journey of discovery.
Life is truly a journey of discovery.
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