Sunday SHO Sucks!

In a time of blog-mania, I chose to get carried away a bit too late.

I hated blogs (Except that of my friend Claire, who's a superb writer, blog or no blog!). They spoil the nice places that are supposed to be discovered only by those who are adventurous enough to go off the beaten path. I never said I don't read them though. Thanks to those travel blogs, I found out where Caramoan is, or how beautiful Anawangin is during sunsets. And I was finally able to go somewhere on my own. But let me get to those travel stories next time. Today, I am just bored. Being SHO on a beautiful Sunday evening is a punishment. Now I realize blogging is modern technology's answer to today's dilemma of human isolation, a pervading loneliness that was perhaps brought about by technology itself.

I'm down to my last several weekend duties as Senior House Officer and despite the piling up of tasks to accomplish, I had to succumb to this temptation to tell the world what I now think and feel. Blame it on my alone-ness. I just need to get this discourse out of my head or I'll scream.

It's my last few months as chief resident of the country's biggest and undoubtedly the best training institution for upcoming internists. And until now, I am convinced that I was never cut out for the job even at the beginning. I only took this job because of a remark from a good friend that challenged me, "I never thought you were the type of person who would say 'no' to a chance to do something good."

It's less than eighty days before I'll finally step down from my job, and everyday, I've never stopped wondering, have I done something good?

I have never stopped calling this a "job" either.

This has been entirely new for me. This task of handling people. Not just ordinary people, but individuals with hopes to someday become great in their fields. These are the ones who chose to stay, the idealists who still believe in making a difference in a time where idealism is a farce and almost a fallacy. I, who can't even use the phone, who can't even talk to people, much less face a crowd, much less handle a responsibility that would involve the lives of people who hope, would have to face my fear and do all these, and a lot more.

And then what's next? (photo stolen from flickr)

For the past 9 months, I had to raise my head up so I would appear confident. I had to walk on tiptoe so I could at least be at par with the giants, or at least appear to be. But inside me, I was humbled, I was a child curled up in a corner, so unconfident, so afraid of making a mistake. But even so, life went on. I was required to create, to lead, to speak out, to surrender, to protect, to fight, to move, to move on.

And I did. After 9 months, the people who hoped are still hoping, their dreams of someday becoming great doctors are still there. Though there are some passions that may have been stifled by reality, something tells me they too have been just like me - appearing to walk tall and proud, but their inner selves curled up in a corner, scared.

Nine months and I realize confidence and fear are both illusions. But hope and idealism are not.

I took this job to accept the challenge to do something good. It's too soon to tell if I was able to accomplish the good I had to do. Perhaps an entire lifetime will never be enough to tell. Perhaps the knowledge of doing good is also an illusion, but the good itself is not. All I know is that I did something. And it was not easy.

I still hate myself for calling this chief residency a "job". I can't help it, it just seems automatic. I wonder how it would be when I will finally be without it. Now that's another thing to blog about soon.