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Posts Tagged ‘postaday’

On this particular morning, I woke up deciding to be my melancholic self.

Strange isn’t it? For we have been taught to wake up and pursue happiness each day, and here I am chasing the opposite. I don’t know what made me think this way. It’s probably my lack of plans for the day that had stirred me to be reflective for a little while.

For the past several months, my life has been trailing a get-up-and-go routine. I wake up at 5:30am, leave the house at 6:45am, and arrive just in time for work at the hospital. After 8 hours (and maybe even more) of taking care of sick children, post-partum mothers, and frail elderly…my energy inevitably reduces to nothing which makes it impossible for me to live a little after work. The next day, the same scene happens. But this post isn’t about my life as a nurse, or the lives of the patients I’ve tendered to. I have written no letters for my patients today. This day is for the people who took the time to write me letters of thanks, encouragements, and forgiveness.

On a specific corner of my dresser is a box that draws no particular attention. It has been there for as long as I could remember. What I couldn’t remember was the last time I opened it. And today, I felt the moment it has been waiting for finally arrived. 

Inside the box is a pocketful of memories. It consists of letters from high school friends (some I am no longer acquainted at present), college friends, family members, and even previous lovers. Some are not even letters. They were just post-it notes that have special messages on it. I kept it anyways because regardless of how short the messages were, I believe the person who wrote it put aside a precious time from his/her precious life to write it.

I couldn’t quite well recognize whose signature this is…good thing I know your handwriting too well, Aimee 😉

Yes, brother. I managed to stay single for the rest of my high school years, thanks to you.

The most adorable find in my memory box!

You are a true friend, Jannel! Lol.

Thank you for sending me one of the longest and most touching letter I have ever received :’)

You know you’re in trouble when the guidance counselor starts giving you letters like this.

Rummaging through the 194 letters made me wonder if I was able to write every one back. Was I able to return to them the same special feeling that I felt when they gave me the letter? My heart says “I hope I did,” but my brain thinks otherwise.

It has been a long, long time since I last received a letter. I guess technology snatched away that opportunity to make people feel they are somebody to someone. Reading the letters allowed me to feel an assortment of emotions I cannot even make sense of. It’s like laughing so hard yet tears start to gush from your eyes and you cannot tell apart if you’re sad or just extremely happy. And though I am thankful for technology for making it effortless to communicate with friends, I believe handwritten letters are still a novelty.

Some people are withdrawn to writing their special someone a letter. They are afraid that laying them all out in a piece of paper might diminish the true meaning of what they really feel. But I believe otherwise. I believe it is important to let people know you love them, or that you are sorry for what you did, while you still got a pen and paper on hand. The seasons may change and the years will surely go by, and the people who wrote the letters may not even stay the same, but the letters will remain true till the end of time.

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How do I even begin writing this letter? To be honest, I had my doubts. I’m probably your least favorite nurse. Your worst nightmare. I don’t blame you. I’d hate myself too if I was my own nurse for I can be the most persuasive person I know. Yet somehow with you, I’ve failed in some way.

You are one tough patient to deal with. Everything with you is a bargain – eat your meal or we’re gonna start an IV line for you, take your oral meds or we’ll give it by injection, wear your face mask or we won’t let you walk along the corridors. Everyday is the same scenario with you. I know you are too young to understand the reasons behind our little bargains, but every task I ask from you is for the betterment of your health. I’m sorry if I had to be firm with the orders. I may look like the most hard-nosed nurse on the floor, but on the inside I’m a real flimsy. If I had to give in to your every day appeal, you wouldn’t be alive and kicking now.

Based from your blood works, you have pancytopenia. Exposing you to the other children in the ward could do serious damage on your health. I know it could get lonely in the reverse isolation room with no other kids to play with, which prolly explains your everyday terrible mood, but it’s the safest place we have for you. Yet I know the hospital is not the optimum place for an 8 year old kid to grow. You should be in school learning your math, or in the streets dancing in the rain.

No child deserves to stay in the hospital for more than a week..but you’ve been here with us for almost 2 months. I remember on a distressing night shift, your hemoglobin level dropped and so we had to transfuse 360cc of packed RBCs and you didn’t respond well to that. You yelled alot, you cried for unknown reasons..you were being your usual 8 year-old self. In turn, I went back and forth to your room every 30 minutes to check if the blood was infusing well, and to monitor any BT reactions. You have no idea how much I longed see the sun rise on that particular night shift.

After so many days of dissent and compromise, I realized there hasn’t been a day where I’ve seen you smile. I haven’t even heard you laugh. At times I became skeptic of whether you’re really a child or just a grumpy old man. Lighten up a little, Jake. You know, they weren’t kidding when they said laughter is the best medicine. You should try it sometimes. I don’t want you to grow up and think that we robbed away your chance of what could have been a beautiful childhood. In fact, the reason why we have to stick needles on you and make you drink the bitter meds is because we want you home as fast as possible..so you can enjoy the rest of your childhood while you still have it.

No nurse would want to inflict harm on their patients. We pledged to make life a healthful experience so people could enjoy the best of what the world has to offer.  And so when you become a man Jake, I hope you remember us, your nurses, as the people who saved your life, and not as the people who made childhood a living hell for you.

Be well, Jake. I’ll see you soon.

Sincerely yours,

Your Pedia Nurse.

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