Goodbye, Friends

(March 2020)

I have been thinking about how life and our circumstances continually change. The
inevitable twists and turns of a resident’s life down the long and winding road are made
more meaningful with the help of a good friend.

It hasn't exactly been smooth sailing for the past few months - encounter with an
angry attending, personal deficiencies, sleep deprivation and what not. There were a
few reasons of giving up, but with some encouragement from my co-residents and
consultants, I kept my perspective in knowing that these hurdles were part of the
growing pains in becoming an internist. When everyone was settling into their newly
defined lives as a first year resident and I thought all were flourishing except me, a few
actually felt like they were on the edge of sanity- my two duty partners were quitting. I
have always been the type of person who is always clingy, afraid of losing people so at
that very moment, I was so down and frustrated and it felt like the four walls of the IM
conference room were closing in.

Princess had always been my shock absorber and encourager. When I saw only
dead-end paths in front of me, she always saw possibilities and opportunities. She would
always say, “ Bai, kaya nato ni. Humanon nato ni, Magtinabangay lang gyud ta. “ Her
words for me were like guiding light at the end of the tunnel. Neil, on the other hand was
a new addition to our duty group. He always looked smart and studious, the type who
always had the entire picture in perspective. They talked to me in private, first it was
Neil and a week after, it was Princess; and the confessions shocked me. They were
quitting.

I was assigned to the 3rd floor for March. It was jam-packed with a daily census of
not less than 18. Alone, it was a challenge to man all the wards beyond 5 pm from 2nd
floor to 7th floor. Ward calls and admissions were everywhere. I would go up and down
the floors several times -t’was tiring but I honestly had fun. Luckily for me, I had the best
seniors - Carlo, Dona and Emil who helped me lighten the load. Neil didn’t make a direct
shift, fortunately; he quit, took time for himself, screwed his head back on straight, and
went again through the match and became my duty partner.

Everyone processes events and circumstances differently. Again, at times, my

emotion can be overstimulated by the sheer amount stress I am asked to process. This
time, it was more unexpected as I had seen many patients die often in gruesome
accidents during my moonlighting days, and I thought I was relatively hardened for lack
of a better word. This time, I was assigned to a 23- year old female diagnosed with Non
Hodgkin Lymphoma with bone marrow invasion.

During her 3 week-stay at room 301, the girl became depressed and her health
deteriorated -with her cancer nearing its endgame. Though it was expected for doctors
to have impassivity as a virtue, I could no longer deny my emotions the moment I
pronounced this girl who I cared for 3 weeks dead and everyone was crying.

Everyone inside the room was of course grief-stricken, especially her mom. There
was something about the old woman who never stopped seeing her as a baby, and
seeing her lifeless , the scene tore my heart. And there was nothing I could say to
comfort her. Perhaps because I am close with my mom, as a grown man, and couldn’t
help but see my own mother in this woman.

I fully understand that we are all individuals who have had different life experiences and
have found our own ways to process things and cope up with different situations.
Depression builds walls around people and between people. So, I ask a question, When a
friend is dragged inside those walls and gives up, what would you do to pull him/her out?
When a critically-ill patient loses hope or dies, do you even still cry?