Post It No. 1

02 August 2020
3:03 PM

Get up. Fix the bed.
Watch Grey's. Too much.
Write a letter to yourself.
Clean the closet.
Throw old stuff out.
Old letters.
Lie down.
Neurology. Boards. Fellowship.
Revise paper.
Adams.
Patients.
Right, the future.
Call a friend? Which friend?
Keep looking straight ahead.
Don't look back.
Migrate?
Protect your family.
Do something.
Anything.
Scared.
Stay alive.

Space

01 August 2020
11:55 AM


In neurology, there's a suffix we use to denote the massive or total loss of motor power. We call it plegia -- such that, the weakness of one limb is aptly called monoplegia, that of one side of the body is hemiplegia. Patients with neck lesions, for example, experience quadriplegia or the motor paralysis of all muscles from the neck down including all limbs, often making it hard for them to breathe on their own, all the while leaving their cognitive and mental functions intact. Today, I woke up as if I was in that state. Paralyzed.

---

I had a dream. And since dreams have this tendency to be temporary, fleeting, and eventually forgotten, I think it's better to write it down. In my dream, I was looking at my phone, and then I see this notification in my app, under your name, that says, "Typing..."

A beep. Then a simple message. "Hey"

My heart floated with that message. I was happy. I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could, but as I opened my eyes and felt the warm, humid air pull me into wakefulness, reality hit me. I checked my phone. Nothing.

Did you know that when I see that blue dot beside your photo, it makes me excited? That when I see you typing or recording a voice message, I get this warm feeling in my gut because seeing and listening to what you have to say gives me joy. Did you know that during this time of uncertainties, looking at your face and hearing your voice gives me hope? It makes me feel that in the midst of chaos, we still deserve to be happy. Talking to you, even when we have nothing to talk about, always gives me happiness.

You deserve to be happy, and not be hurt over and over again, after and in spite of all the things we went through. You deserve to be happy, to be given a true second shot at it, to be trusted again; because what happened before -- it's just that. Maybe it was wrong and maybe it hurt people, and maybe it was a mistake, but that's everything to it. It doesn't define you. Not me. Not us. I hope we can both forgive ourselves for it.

---

I am still fighting. I don't know if this is the right thing to do -- I'm hoping it is. I am willing to try anything and everything for us to have a shot at happiness, at us being together. I want both of us to be ready when that happens. You said you'll know when that day comes, and I'm hopeful that I, too, will know when it's the right time. Please don't ever think that I'm giving up. I am fighting and I hope you won't go anywhere. I know you are worth it. We are worth it.

---

"It's you."

I am holding on to this.

Unloading

Something feels heavy. Five minutes after 11 in the evening and I'm still climbing my way out of the cavernous grave that is my mind. Ironically, the only time when I felt light was this afternoon, when it wasn't my mind carrying the weight but my arms. Now, the silence has resurfaced, and I feel like the only way I'd be able to catch some sleep is if I unload some of the heaviness through words.

Three things running in my head, playing on loop like a broken record -- two questions and one reality:

One -- Am I staying and waiting for the right reasons?

Two -- What if I'm not and will never be enough?

Lastly -- The loneliest and most dangerous place in this world is the mind.

I opened my eyes today with the sight of my favorite person beside me. A few kisses here and there, and that feeling of being at home. Of truly belonging.

A plain goodbye as he wore his jacket.

Now, there's just silence. And pain.

Am I to blame for all of this? Did I inflict all of this pain on both of us? Am I bound to be alone -- and everything was merely a matter of when?

I don't seem to know where home is anymore.

Reflections, Decussations

"You wanna watch Grey's?"

"You have chips?"

---

What, then, separates the ability to not think and the desire to not care -- or do the two inexorably overlap and cross over?

Oh, my dear, the water was freezing and the moon held its chin up high, its reflection glistening over the undulating mirror below. Our bare feet on the ledge trembling, shivering --

I dove.

But you stayed on the wooden plank, your two hands clutched on your shoulders as you watched me try to stay afloat, hungry for air.

Lockdown

Neuropathologic examination reveals a rather normal looking brain,

I wonder -- if you experience the same crushing pain I feel with not having you around; if you long for the same touch, that feeling of being at home. I wonder if you hear a similar voice in your head, one that you wish you could stop but also wish would keep going: a voice that screams your name amidst the chaos of our present world.

I wonder if you would have the courage to tell me if you don't.

The correct treatment, aside from lowering blood pressure, is uncertain.

I can't fathom why this silly brain is always flooded with questions and repugnant scenarios. Have I always been an overthinker? Am I really that insecure, that terrible? If so, why?

The lack of certainty in today and the days to come brings forth fear. The long hours of nothingness don't seem to help either. This monster, this fear -- it subtly creeps in and pushes me to a preternatural state of mind, one where I tend to lose my rational thinking. It makes the flood rise and the only seemingly safe spot is slumber, which hardly comes by. I long for the day when all the second-guessing would stop. Deep down, I know I want to do better, be better. Having that choice to change gives me hope.

In the past, when effective treatment was not available, the outcome was often fatal.

Two sides of the coin, they say. I don't know which of the two I am ready for. I don't even know if there are people who are truly ready. If there are, I surely envy them.

All I am sure of is what I feel. It's real; I didn't just make it up. I am beyond fortunate to feel this for what it is, and it is just immensely pure and humbling. If there ever comes a time that fate won't be on my side, I am fairly certain that I won't regret anything that has led me to feel it.

The mechanism is unclear.

I wonder -- that picture, that future -- does that still exist? With everything that has happened, is it clearer or is it just getting more obscure?

I wonder.

It's how you press your lips on my forehead when we're both half-asleep as if assuring me that you're not going anywhere. Not until you have to. It's how I feel immensely safe when my head is pressed on your chest, close enough for me to hear the gentle drumming of your heartbeat.

It's the sound of clinking beer bottles when we're each telling the story of how our day went -- the moments we wished the other was there to witness, the things that made us ponder deeply, the rants, the joys, the tiny victories, the nuances; our shared thoughts; our flaws and imperfections; our minds coursing swiftly through a vast road without us noticing the change in gears. It's how we take each other's breath away when we laugh, so hard that we feel the little bursts of air spaces in our lungs.

It's when we see each other and realize that the image in my head -- one that I constantly think about during the day -- is nothing compared to what I'm seeing before my very eyes. It's the ordinary. And the extraordinary. It's how our hands find their way to meeting, interlocking, as if they have minds of their own.

It's how we make love. Oh, how we make love! It's the way you would hold me tight, telling me that everything will be alright. It's when I feel I'm about to lose my senses when I see your face filled with pleasure; with excitement; with comfort; with hunger; with contentment. It's how we lie on our backs after; frantically catching the breaths we thought we'd lose. It's that moment right after when we're lying beside each other, like two childhood friends lying on the grass after a day's worth of play.

It's when I look at you, and that silent prayer I say right before I close my eyes. And it's happiness, and all the good things filling every part of my being, every cell in my body; every fear I have knowing how my heart could shatter at any given time, every glimpse of a possible future, every truth -- and then I whisper those words just before you fall asleep.

In the darkest of hours,
when even the faintest light
glows
with the magnitude of a thousand suns;

In stillness, in silence,
when each movement
flows
with the velocity of a raging tempest,
And each thought--a deafening roar of thunder;

I wonder
if our souls
ever find
Solace.

Clarity. Honesty. Truth.

I know it's not too much to ask for these. I know I deserve them.

I deserve to no longer hurt while you make me wait for something that, by now, I feel like is never even going to arrive. To no longer stay at the crossroads of choosing between the past or the future. Are you just afraid that if you tell me what it is that you truly feel, in your heart of hearts, that it will break me? 

I deserve courage; to have someone who, without batting an eyelash, would choose me in spite of my flaws; to be with someone who won't ever make me feel like I'm not enough; someone who's not just there for the laughs, for the intimacy, for the I love you's whispered during drunken nights--words that need not be said, but I am brave enough to say anyway, in sobriety and broad daylight. I deserve the same peace and security, the same faith that I so easily and so willingly give.

I deserve not to have my heart broken over and over.

I deserve no less. I owe it to myself to deserve no less.

Today, a chapter of my life is ending.

I'm scared as hell. Terrified. But also hopeful. I guess what's scary about new beginnings are the uncertainties--that feeling of stepping into the unknown, of starting over. Maybe being scared is not so bad. Maybe.

Today, a new chapter is about to begin.

It's 4:55 in the morning, and I'm wide awake. Sleep has been difficult to come by and catch these past few days.

Do you remember the night I went to your condo for the first time? Up until now, everything seems so vivid--I can still see your dusty frame with your grandparents' photo in it; a half-eaten bag of chips on your table. I can still hear the roaring of your air conditioning unit from where I was sitting on your bed while we were talking. I can still remember how you told me that you felt unappreciated, and how I was baffled that someone like you would feel something like that.

As it turns out, right now, I do feel that. I feel like at any given moment, when you choose to, your life could go on without me. Forgotten. Unappreciated. Nights like this, I can't help but feel like you'd only want me to be there when it's convenient for you. I mean, who am I even to think you'd care about my day, if I've eaten, if I'm okay. Because the truth is, right now, I don't feel okay.

Weeks ago, you also told me that you want to aim for lightness--for you, maybe, lightness is within reach. But can you not see that nothing about this is light for me? I'm trying so hard to feel like I mean something to you, that I'm someone special, that I am more than just a thread you tug on when you want to, when you need to. I'm trying so hard to not think about how hung up you were with your past that you couldn't choose me, just me. And now, at close to 5 in the morning, an epiphany: Why am I even trying so hard?

All I ever wanted was to feel at peace. Reassured. To not feel like I have to fight for a place in your life. To not doubt where you and I stand. To feel like the only sensible future is us. And maybe you are failing at that. Maybe I am failing as well.

I did hold your hand that night in Marina Bay Spa, and no, it wasn't because I got carried away in the moment. Maybe it was too bold, but the truth is, it felt like the easiest, most natural thing to do. I also remember you letting go for fear of being seen.

Someday, maybe, it's going to stop feeling like this. Someday, I am still hopeful, that being at peace would be as easy as holding your hand.

I need to sleep.

On Running. And Living

Today, I did something which I haven't done for a long time--running. It took a lot of effort but when I found my pace I realized just how much I miss all the feelings that came with it: my leg muscles burning up, bathed by the arteries that were awakened with every step on the pavement; my lungs dying to burst from the constant battle of its expansion and its hunger for more air; my heart on the verge of explosion as every beat gets faster, stronger. Beads of sweat trickling down like fresh rain on dry ground.

As I arrived to the point where I started, I felt lighter. After everything, I am still alive. I've made it this far, and I want to keep living. I want to continue living.

A final thought--I am enough, have always been enough, will always be enough.

Stuck in Reverse

It is true: that sometimes you can feel so tired that sleep won't even come easy. Yesterday began with a phone call that instantly heralded a day of stress and chaos; another day where instead of taking hold of the time, time took told of me. And as if the universe wanted to push me a little further, things started to pile up. Then, just before the night ended, there was you. I could just feel my body sinking into sheer exhaustion.

What's exhausting is that you keep seeing the worst in what I say; in what I choose. Assuming that I think less of you because of a single choice. That for every reason I had, you'd look past the good and see the negative.

You don't get it, do you?

I made a decision bearing the wisdom of my experience--of the unseen price of carrying the title. It was not a choice based on mere capability.

I long for the day when you would understand that at the end of it all, I genuinely wanted all the best things for you in the coming year, and not merely the title that you and the others think is "best". I look back at the amount of time that this job took away from me and I think about the multitude of things you could do with it. How you could use that time to keep getting better--to not stagnate. I want you to do better at all the things I wish I had the time to be good at this year. A better physician. A better researcher. A better mentor. A better peer. If I can believe that you could be all those, why can't you?

Yesterday was a tiring day, but it was not the weight of the job that was exhausting. What's exhausting is realizing that you don't believe in you the way that I do.

Nakakapagod.

Trying too hard. Thinking too much.

Thirty five days before the end, thirty five days before the beginning. Life is too short and too beautiful to be anything less than happy.

One Day

A Post-It to Myself:

One day, it's not going to hurt so bad. I'm not saying the pain will go away, but you will learn to let it be a part of you. One day, you won't have to cry yourself to sleep wondering why you weren't good enough. Have faith that one day, all of this will make sense and everything will fall into its rightful place. Trust that even though it hurts now, happiness is still within reach and you will end up where you're meant to be.

Never stop loving. If there's anything you shouldn't run out of, it's love.

The Other Side of Things

I keep forgetting that as I walk through this life, I'm not the only one who's growing old. Today, my dad was rushed to the emergency room after experiencing chest heaviness, palpitation, dizziness, and loss of consciousness. Had it been another patient, it would have been easy to just commit to a diagnosis of syncope. But I guess things are different when you're at the other end of things--when you're the clueless watcher; when you're the relative who has an inkling but does not know what's really happening; when your own parent is the patient.

I haven't been home for quite some time, and I can't help but feel guilty that I wasn't there to take care of my parents more than I really want to. It's a heartbreaking fact that doctors care so much about other people that sometimes they lose time to take care of themselves and their loved ones. I hope that my being here, tending to my dad's needs, I can show him the care that I have failed to provide him because of what I do.

I honestly hoped you would care more.

Hey :)

Before I even close my eyes and sleep, I just want you to know how extremely proud I am of you. Tomorrow will be the last day of your major rotation. You made it, love. You've come this far.

I miss you.

With love,
N