Finding meaning in a doctor’s order.

Her name is Chariza, we commonly call her Doc. Cha. But don’t be fooled by her seemingly kind and uncomplicated name. However,  this is just a veil; a silhouette of her real power.

She can conjure typhoon, she can resurrect the dead, and she can bring out all your fears, in fact, she can destroy or build you.

Yesterday, when I stayed under the rain—wet and tired, I remembered one of my favorite doctors back when I was working in one of the best hospital in the country. Back then, I was assigned to the adult medical intensive care unit. I always want to be in that area of specialization because of the challenge. I want to experience the independence to manipulate equipment, to give high alert medications, to perform CPR, to change diapers every two hours and carry-out unusual orders.  I was very enthralled; finally, I will experience what is written in the books.

I will tell you a specific story, my typical, normal day with doc Cha.

It was my first day without a preceptor. Everyone was very busy that time. Each has to care for two critically-ill patients.  I saw nimbus clouds as she approached me. She immediately opened the chart and wrote a kilometric order. But before that, she asked me.

“Bago ka dito?”

“Yes doc.”, I answered with my gastric contents starting to reflux back to my esophagus. Reality check, it was not heartburn, I am not pregnant, either.  It was anxiety.

Upon sensing my anxiety, she added another kilometer of orders, which you need to carry out within an hour. Because of its impact, I can still fully remember it.

“Turn to sides every 2 hours, apply air mattress, apply anti-embolic stockings, request for Sodium, Potassium, Ionized calcium, magnesium, Renal Panel 2 (erasure), Renal panel 4, Start erceflora, MV shift to SIMV, Sputum GS/CS, Chest XRAY in AM.”

These orders are just part 1 out of 10 for the whole 12 hour shift.

Indeed, Doc Cha is extraordinary. She is a teacher in disguise that every nurse should experience. Despite her everyday terrorism, back in my mind, was a thankful soul. Not everyone has the chance to be stretched into their limits. She sees the resting and hidden potential in every nurse. She believes that in chaos and disorder, knowledge can be derived.

Only with doc Cha, I was able to perform sponge bath continuously until patient is afebrile. I knew it was her own method to teach me that to achieve a certain goal; you need to do it, continuously.

Her favorite was to order chest x-ray  as in (now), but every chest x-ray, bedside CT scan, I got the chance also to examine what is inside my chest— my heart. There were times, when she asked me if what is more important, the heart or the brain?

I knew that for her, it is always the heart.

When I knock on her room, her typical response.

“Sandali lang Mikee, I’m praying.”

When everyone, is saying no pulse, she replies, “Meron pa!”

When everyone is hungry, she orders a pizza.

She is optimistic, she is active, and she doesn’t sleep.

Every time I feel very tired and with feelings of retreat or surrender, I always think of the days when I sat on the floor, during at the end of my shift, counting the gauze and bandages, perspiring, , hypoglycemic, knees trembling, waiting for Berns, Nash or Jervie, but, more importantly, smiling, savoring the victory from a well fought day. I would look at her, and say.

 

“Salamat sa Diyos!”

Her reply: “May bukas pa.”

Then laughter fills the cold and tensed unit.

 

The Miriam inside of me.

When I was little, every time someone bullies or hurts me, without second thoughts, I would look at that person from head to toe, and admonish them in the presence of other students who are eating their packed lunches.

I became notorious for using fiery words during my elementary and high school, even until my college days though I became a bit demure and meek. My inspiration and model back then was Senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago.

Let me tell you a story.

I was in Grade 3 when I first ran as a Senator in our class elections. My adversaries back then were from Grades 5 to 6. I was the youngest and the smallest at that time—perhaps due to malnutrition. Thus, I was the last candidate to deliver my platform. I told the electorate:

“Behold, promises are made to be broken. I am asking the sky now to hit my opponents with lighting, if they are lying.”

Then a lightning struck, disturbing the solemnity of the miting de avance. On the next day, I found out that I won.  Again, my inspiration then was Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago.

Even during the toughest times, my faith to the Lady Senator did not falter. When there’s no food to eat, I think of it as a sign of climate change affecting food security. When there’s no electricity in our house, I think of it as a manifestation of the government’s incompetence in addressing energy problems. We seriously didn’t have proper supply of electricity until I graduated from high school.  Despite all of these, I know that Sen. Miriam was with me—pushing me to study harder and not surrender.

Here’s another story.

I was ambitious, that’s why when I was in high school, I ran as President despite contradictions because I was only in my sophomore year. There were three of us competing for the highest position in the school. I was afraid then; I was still the smallest and the thinnest. But I saw Sen. Miriam in the horizon.

I knew I needed to win.

It was a bloody speech.

At the end of the canvassing of votes, I was proclaimed President. I know that it was Sen. Miriam who made me win. However, just to note, it was my friend Alfred Dicto who became the Fidel Ramos of my life, defeating me in my second attempt for re-election.

For sure, without Sen. Miriam in my head, I wouldn’t be able to surpass all the trials in my life. She was the only person—despite the absence of many—who remained at my side. I even memorized all her speeches and I impersonate her perfectly, gaining awards by doing so.

Why am I doing this?

I already learned my lessons. Before I pursued development work, I was a nurse, taking care of critically-ill patients. I have witnessed both life and death almost every day. I learned that while you still have the chance, go and say your piece—do it now, because time is a bitch. Today, you could be sleeping in bed; tomorrow, you could be inside a coffin.

My dad passed away last year due to lung cancer, just two hours before I reached home. It was the most painful experience I’ve ever had. In my hand during that time was a poem. I wrote it while I was en route to Iloilo. I never had the chance to hug him. I failed to deliver the best care for him.

This time, I don’t know how, but I want to care for Sen. Miriam. Not only because she is a previous Senator, but because she is someone who influenced me in so many ways. I want to give her the most meticulous care she deserves. I will provide her adequate oxygenation like how she provided life and excitement in the Senate. I will monitor her electrolytes, like how she monitored the financial spending of our country. Feed her if necessary, like how she fed students with wisdom. Give her bed bath, like how she made “sabon” corrupt public officials during hearings.

And once she is already comfortable, I want to read the Constitution to her, before she sleeps.

I may be sad right now, praying ardently that the Lady Senator will soon fully recover. That God will help her because she contributed a lot to this country.

Nevertheless, I know inside of me that the Miriam spirit will always be alive—burning like a torch, ready to share the fire with everyone else.

I hope that my little story will reach you, Madam. Like how you touched my life back when I was in Grade 3.

Thank you so much.

Love,

Mutya