I was browsing through my albums and saw this picture. This was taken on my 24th birthday last year. Little did I know, this was to be the last birthday I was to celebrate with them. You see, since we started med school, it’s been our tradition to celebrate each others’ birthdays. This year was an exception because they were rotating in Cabiao, Nueva Ecija on my birth month. But I never thought it would be more than exceptional.

They called me up on the night of February 2, 2010. They were shouting at the other end of the line – obviously ecstatic by the newfound freedom that community medicine has to offer. It was a lonely night for me but we did promise each other that when we all get a weekend off, we’d celebrate my birthday like we did the previous years. How could have I known that it will never happen?

Yesterday afternoon, I went to see Jessa for the last time before we leave her ashes in her final resting place. Their family’s mausoleum is nothing extraordinary. No outdoor furniture or decors save for the image of Jesus Christ atop Jessa’s urn box. I broke down into uncontrollable fit of tears when I saw her tomb marker with the name “JESSA R. PEREZ” on it. Oh yes. I am used to seeing her name all over the place: in the books she owned, in her nameplate, in her school and hospital ID… even printed on the attendance sheet we pass around in class back at the college of med. But not engraved in that black slab of shiny marble for everyone to see. The tombstone made her death and Jen’s even more real to me.

Jen, Jessa, now that we’ve both laid you to rest, it’s time for me to let you go and move on with my life to continue this journey that we started together four years ago on Jessa’s birthday. I will never forget you nor the memories I made with you. Rest in peace dearest Jen, Jessa. I will always love you.

He’s awake. If there’s anything that’s making me happy despite what happened in the past week, it’s the promise that Migs will be okay. I don’t know how I – we – survived the aftermath of last week’s fire incident in Cabiao. Ten days later, it’s still surreal. It’s as if I’m just living in an ugly nightmare still waiting and hoping for someone to wake me up. Sometimes I catch myself calling Mela, Jessa or Jen by mistake, completely oblivious to the fact that both have gone to heaven last week.

Oh God. I can’t believe I said that. Gone to heaven? Who? My friends? My eyes turn watery every time I remember they’re gone and how they’ve left me and Mela by ourselves now.

I have a lot of acquaintances, a lot of friends. But there are only a handful few whom I have placed in a special box in my heart. These are the people whom I know wouldn’t judge me for my flaws or condemn me for my mistakes. Jen and Jessa were part of that special circle. Now that they’re gone, I feel empty.

I wonder if anyone could fill that special box again. And how. :’(

Jen, Mela, Jessa, Mnel @ the SLCM Christmas Party 2008 where Jessa received a Golden Snowman for being the “Best Dressed” for the night. We’re a rare breed. Someday, one of us could have discovered a new arthritis pain treatment that would have saved many people from pain.

Surreal is perhaps the best word to describe what I felt during my one-day stay in Antique over the weekend. I got a two-day leave from my elective rotation to see Kuya Jori one last time and see him be laid to rest. I thought that if and when I see his corpse inside that casket, the reality of his death would sink in but I was wrong. We still miss him every now and then especially at home where everything that you lay your eyes on has his Midas-like touch. I feel the same sadness here in my apartment. As I look around, I cannot help but take a deep sigh as I remember him in every nook and cranny of our apartment. No one would nag me into cleaning my area anymore, nor insist that we change the doorknob of our apartment, nor remind me to bring home the hangers used for my uniforms. The list just goes on. Saying that he is a big loss to our family is an understatement because no one can quantify how much of a help he was to us in the last 14 years that he lived with us. No one can replace him. I don’t think anyone will be able to at least match up with what he can do. He can even design an equestrian apparel if we asked him to. He’s truly one unique individual.

I happened to see the guy who was responsible for his death at his wake. I told myself before that I wouldn’t want to see him but when I heard he was there, I immediately went to Kuya Jori’s house to take a long look at him. Seeing him with that cast on and the bruises in his arms and legs, I couldn’t help but wonder at God’s plans. How come this man here, the very man who was drunk and who drove that motorcycle of his in God-knows how many miles per hour just have these very insignificant injuries when my poor kuya received the most critical blows? I felt it was unfair. But then, it’s never been fair anyway.

It’s gonna take a long time before my family and I could move on and be at ease with kuya’s absence in our household. It’s going to be one tough journey but as a friend once told me: It’s going to be better.

I sure hope so.

Today is the day my Kuya Jori moves on to the afterlife. His passing away came as a shock especially for us whom he had lived with for years. Last Sunday, when we heard about the motorcycle accident he got involved in, I knew – being medically adept – that he wouldn’t last long and yet as a relative and a friend, I was hoping against hope for a miracle that would let him walk again and do the things he used to do back in the days. But today, I was proven wrong. The Lord had better plans not only for him but for us that he left as well. I’ve been crying my eyes out all day. My eyes are puffy. Everywhere I go there are things that remind me so much of him: the song “Bye Bye” by Mariah Carey that played in Greenwich while I was having dinner alone tonight; the pink pedestrian line outside which costed him 200 pesos when he parked the car outside of it; the stairs to our apartment unit that Kuya Jori regularly walks on when he comes over to pick either my laundry or me; the near-broken doorknob that he badly wanted to change ‘coz of my constant complaints about not being able to smoothly open the door; the shower curtain that he had changed because the old one hadn’t been replaced for months; the jalousies inside our bedroom that he advised we should cover with an illustration board so the cold air-conditioned air won’t seep through… these are just a few of the things that remind me of him. It is so hard for me because everywhere I look, I seemingly see him or hear his comments as if he’s just around. It is very surreal and the reality of him being gone – forever in our life – is like a bitter pill that’s difficult to swallow. Kuya Jori was like everyone’s trusty ol’ brother and now, that ol’ brother has gone to be with the Lord.

Kuya, thank you so much for sharing 14 years of your life with our family. Sorry I didn’t even teach you how to search directory submissions online. Thank you for everything. We truly love you.

This is undoubtedly the best weekend I’ve ever had. I went out to pamper myself: name it, I’ve done it! I’ve never had a lot of fun in the last couple of weeks. I was out and about town meeting friends, attending parties, going to the movies, drinking, dancing and just being happy. I felt free. Like I had nothing to care about in the world. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve said how I missed this kind of life. I’m so happy that I’m almost crying and I don’t want to go back to being a medical clerk ever again. This is really the most exciting long weekend I’ve ever had. Really.

At least in my dreams.

In real life, I just wasted away my time at home in front of my laptop. I didn’t even go out to burn time in the mall to watch a movie or perhaps dine out. I didn’t get to have my nails done, what more get a relaxing Swedish massage. I didn’t get to see any of my friends. There were no parties to attend, no music to dance to and no booze to infuse my system with. In fact I bet I need some sort of immune system boosters since I’ve caught another bug and is suffering now from a sore throat and that occasional cough.

I’ve wasted such a great long weekend. And my only hope to make this perfect, that is seeing Bee for the first and last time this week, ended up in smoke just a few minutes ago when he told me he couldn’t see me.

What an absolutely great weekend isn’t it?

My Christmas break countdown ’till school opens in 2009 has started ticking. It’s the 22nd – just 3 days before the much-awaited celebration of Kuya Jess’ birth. I am both looking forward to the 25th and at the same time very anxious because this is the last Christmas break that I will be having until God knows when. As I mentioned in my previous post, next year, I will be spending my Christmas – or perhaps – New Year – caring for the sick and dying as a medical clerk. As preparation for our impending doom journey to the real hospital world, we will have a one-on-one session with a preceptor who will observe us while we do our history and PE on a patient starting next year. Although this isn’t exactly my first time to do this, what bothers me a lot is that we will be totally on our own this time unlike during our SGD patient encounter sessions wherein our preceptors supervise and correct us while we do our thing. What makes things a lot worse is perhaps the fact that we are clueless until the day of our one-on-one session on what kind of patients we will be having. In the past at least, we have an idea on what type of cases we will be encountering for the day. Say, Mondays are Pedia SGD days so we expect to see a kid entering the room, but for the one-on-one sessions, the patient who will walk in can either be an adult or a sick kid or even perhaps a pregnant woman. To make the very long explanation shorter, we’re supposed to know our maneuvers by heart – whether it be for a pregnant woman, for a Neuro patient who just had a stroke or for a week-old neonate being brought for a well-baby checkup. We’re supposed to do this only once and we’re divided into batches who will do the one-on-one preceptorship every Tuesday starting January. Sadly, I’m one of the very lucky students from the first batch. I’m already contemplating on ordering my epitaph since I’ll be dead for sure on January 6. So my dear friends, please pray for my impending death nerve-wracking one-on-one with Preceptor #6. More than anyone else, it is I who need your prayers badly on that day.

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I ain’t an equestrienne but perhaps you need some horse supplies.