The ER Rotator

Being the only non-Muslim member in my IM team, I was left all alone in the ER by the time 6 PM arrives, which is about the time all the other doctors in my IM team leave the ER to break their fast, the buka, I think that's what they call them. I sit in my chair, burning in the heat, my legs trembling as I wait for the barrage of patiernts to arrive. One by one, they come in. The wheels of stretchers deafen my senses. The unconscious, the ones screaming of pain, the ones reeking of their own vomit, the ones smelling like they have no idea what deodorant was. Like the obedient intern faking her way through IM, I was forced to attend to all of them, juggling the taking of vital signs, the history-taking, the making of prescriptions, the writing of laboratory requests, the search for the elusive nasal cannula, the phone call to the laboratory, answering the demands of the resident on duty. Of course, who the hell was I kidding? I couldn't do all of them at the same time. Therefore, to add to the toxicvity of the job, I have watchers screaming at my face, because I was too slow in attending to their patients' demands.

Stop me, Doc Bastero, before I strangle this watcher. Please lang! Ilayo mo sa harap ko yang antipatikang babaeng yan!

And on top of all that, I have people repeatedly calling me "Nurse".

Arghhh!!!

Being ER rotator these past few days has been the most excruciating thing that has happened to me in IM. Too many times I have just wanted to walk out. Walk out from the ER and leave all these behind. Go and make out with some guy, just to release all that anger and tension.

And forget.

Forget about everybody waiting for me and just run the hell away from the hospital. Forget abouty the one million and one things I have yet to do. Forget about the patients waiting for me to attend to them. Forget about all this crap. When everything else sinks in, and I feel like I am drowning, suffocating, I have to fight the urge to scream. To scream so loud that everybody in the entire hospital can hear me. Hear of how I am starting to hate my job. Of how I hate it with such hatred that it burns a spot right through the pit of my stomach.

"Punyeta kang watcher ka! Hindi mo ba nakikitang bumabagyo ang mga pasyente
dito! Kasalan ko ba kung di niyo sila binibillhan ng gamot sa bahay o dinadala
kaagad sa doktor?! At ngayon kami ang tinotoxic niyo dahil hindi kayo marunong
mag-alaga sa pasyente niyo? Bwisit! Sana kayo na lang ang magkasakit at hindi
yang kamag-anak niyo! Mga punyeta kayo! Wala kayong karapatang mambwisit ng
doctor! Leche!"

Of course, I never said to that their face. But I was thinking about it. Hehehe...

The conscience gets me and I hold my tongue as I am being forced back to reality.

I have no choice. This is what my four years in medical school has tried to prepare me for. Despite the fact that I am slowly turning into the kind of doctor I hate, the kind of person I promised myself I will never ever become, I have to constantly remind myself that my selfish concerns are trivial and mundane compared to those of the loved ones of the patients I am supposed to be taking care of. So, I just have to bear it, paint a smile on my face and suck up all that bitterness.

So, to the watchers I have been impatient with and the patioents who deserve but I have not given my very best care, I am sorry... It's time I learn to accept the fact that this is what I do. This is what I'm made for.

This is who I am.