the story behind

we always hear about a disease, but not on the story behind it. we always hear about the mortality and morbidity of dengue, but haven't heard of the of the mothers who cried on their child's death beds. of how someone pulled a whole prayer group or support group just to wake someone from their coma. the grandmother who has mitral valve stenosis and cannot go to his grandson's graduation, the dad who can't go home for christmas because he has been quarantined in China for SARS, the son who left in a too early age because of leukemia.

i watched PBB a while ago and Jolas' dad talked about his son who died because of leukemia. they sold their business. the family's jewelries. and the money wasnt enough for him to reach 4-5 years old.

but when i heard about leukemia, i thought about blood. specifically white blood cells. i thought about the symptoms. what tests to be made. predict how long is he gonna last. and of course, think of ways to prolong that.

but do doctors think about the story behind them? are they interested to the parents who reconciled their differences to reunite so that they could be there, together, for their child? do they even care about the friends he will leave behind?

maybe not. i mean, a friend told me, that in one day, at PGH, you get to see 600 patients a DAY. you check their charts, meds, temperature, etc. 600 people. everyday. 600 stories. 600 faces. would you bother knowing their names in the first place, when you can't even remember their bed numbers?

hmmm. it's amazing (or not) how a hospital can be a place where the human spirit can be so challenged. in the OPD, i see people falling in line, carrying their babies, waiting for that 3-minute checkup with the doctor. people crying because their friend just died. cousins celebrating because of their cousin's succesful operation. a mother praying on her knees and crying because his son was shot in the lungs. a father just stunned in the benches wondering what happened to their child.

i was once there before. 5 years ago. my cousin got shot in the lower left quadrant of his abdomen region. three of them were shot actually. our distant cousin, kuya Jaja, died not even an hour in the ER. my closer cousin was rushed to the hospital, we carried him inside the Charity ward of UST hosp and my hands were filled with blood, i was hugging my cousins, and we were crying outside the OR. that feeling sucks.

and it's hard to think that Doctors get to see those stories everyday. they live among the tears, the blood, and the shit. now im starting to see why transference, and walls between doctors and patients are built. not because they don't care. not because theyre heart is dead. it's because if they let all the emotional stuff sink in, they'd die after diagnosing their 412th patient, for the day. sometimes it gets in them, theyre still human after all. but like what my dad said (and any other doctor will say), "walang doctor na hindi namamatayan ng pasyente"

it's amazing how a hospital can contain the most extreme of human emotions. people go in and out there everyday. each of them has a story to tell. and tomorrow theyre discharged or maybe dead. there's a story behind every person. everyone's got something to tell. there's a story behind the leukemia, the dengue, the diabetes, the stab wound... there's no place like a hospital. where you can cry in the corridors, and people would understand..

like what mitch albom said, "in every person, there's a story, and each of the story is connected to another, the the other one connects to the other, and the stories are all one."