Ody to Joy

Because all you ever really need is a good belly-rub.

Down the hallway came the soft but solid footsteps

In addition to the poem I just posted, I also tried to write something a tad less cheesy on the same subject.  I'm not sure whether I succeeded.

Down the hallway came the soft but solid footsteps. Like a monk walking on mahogany. I tried to turn my head, but only my eyes moved, and then, only a little. The fluorescent lights above me dimmed and took a plum-tinted hue. That such a jarring instrument of humiliation could suddenly change into an impression of a lilac blossom! Suddenly I thought of water buffalo skin in the twilight. The tough hide always looked purple against the gray fields, cloaked with the glimmer of starlight yet to shine.

I knew that he had come to collect me for his realm, and I was ready to go. As he stopped by the door, I tried to puff my chest with courage. But, coughs spewed forth instead. Little, desperate gasps of disloyal air.

The machines whirred and beeped. She scrambled around me, wiping the sputum I did not expel, and rose to call the nurses. Her limbs are stiff with arthritis, but I remember when they were as lithe and fleet as a doe’s. I remember how they followed me wherever I went, and how they steadfastly held up the child in her womb. She paused at the door and looked back. As if she too knew that I had a visitor she did not invite, and whom she certainly didn’t welcome. Death balked a little at her investigation. That’s my girl! She scares the skirts off of fear itself.

Eventually, she picked up her slow shuffle once again and went to report my cough, still clutching the tissue in her hand. He took the opportunity and slid into my room. I expected either darkness or light, coldness or warmth, but I found none of these. There was no radiating glow of golden light. There was no chilling, stabbing shadow. As he took his tape and measured my life well-lived, I saw between his armpits and glimpsed … I can’t tell you what. Really, I think it would be disappointing if you knew. You expect a thousand-foot waterfall of black mercury, or a Four Seasons room with the bed turned down. But this is death, not Armageddon, and it’s nothing special.

As he folded up the tape once again, he nodded. After an instant of unfulfilled expectations, I noticed that the pain was being stripped away. It clung tightly to my sternum, but death ripped and clawed at it until I nearly forgot it was ever there in the first place. The fluorescent lights and the bed I lied upon also left, with the pain. I felt my body open up, like smoke leaving a chimney. I started to billow.

And then she came back. She grasped my hands and begged me to stay. She flung her arms around my waist and pulled me toward the ground. I felt her tear on my forearm like the lightest brush of a dove feather, or the passing kiss of a cloud. I whispered that I had already been measured, and my life was fully grown. I whispered my thanks and my love, and my promise to wait for her. I don’t know what she said in reply, because the chimney kept pumping me forth and I billowed and dispersed in the heavens. I became the starlight that has yet to shine.

When death came to lead me away

On a less happy note, my paternal grandfather passed away last week and I wrote a couple of things just to crystallize my emotions. Here is the poem. I noticed that it's QUITE cheesy, but then I realized that it was probably because we all tend to think the same things when a loved one dies. We want to think that they're better off somehow, because that's the only thing that could justify their leaving us.  We want to think that we'll see them again someday, and that they can hear the thoughts in our heads.

When death came to lead me away,
I had already let go of life.
All I could see was an ocean of peace
Though in my youth, I knew both war and strife.

When death came to lead me away,
I could no longer speak.
But if I could say just one last thing,
I'd tell my beloved, "Don't weep for me."

When death came to lead me away,
The fluorescent lights began to fade.
Through the glow, I saw the ones I've lost.
No longer pained, no longer aged.

When death came to lead me away,
The pain began to dim.
I know that they will grieve for me,
But they are strong, and life will win.

When death came to lead me away,
I followed him gladly.

Superhuman strengths and outlook

On life, on love, and on exams that are happening tomorrow morning.

Canon Rebel XT May 16th, 2010

The Soy Life

Pulling all nighters, binging on coffee, and shunting creativity to make room for cramming. The lifestyle of medical students aren't always the healthiest; it's one of the many ironies of our journey to becoming healthcare providers.

Here in our little plot of online real-estate, we seed our soy garden, an outlet of our artistic fancies and a counter balance of our otherwise unsustainable lives. We vision it to be a place where natural ingredients will be used, a place where creativities will be nurtured. Symbolized by a soy bean, our garden will be green, organic, and healthy both for the body and for the mind.

To start our garden, here are our natural ingredients:

Sunny: Warm and nurturing, the sun is a main source of energy for growth. Not just an ATP provider, she also lightens one's path for new and exciting possibilities every day.

Joy: A smile is a necessary ingredient of a healthy mind. She may not radiate as visibly as the sun, but her presence is pretty desirable in most cases and conductive to creativity.

With the two ingredients in mind, we aspire to a more organic lifestyle, the life of soy.

PATIENT PROFILE