Hospital Boy

No. I did not say I'm a hospitality boy (as if I would pass as one). For the fourth time in my life, I had been confined in the hospital. The first one was when I was unconscious for three days for being bumped by a speeding jeepney (God! Thank you for covering me at that time that I didn't encounter any fracture). That was on April 1992 in the Elisa R. Ochoa Memorial Hospital in Butuan City. The second one was in Chong Hua Hospital in Cebu City, October 31, 2004, the first time that I was away from home, and the first time when I've proven that I could manage to bring myself to the hospital alone. I could remember at that time that at the middle of every call, I had to excuse myself from the customer for me to run to the wash room and vomit and/or move my bowel. The third was in Butuan Doctor's Hospital in February 2005, when I felt too weak of having cough and colds for more than a month. My! I thought I already had TB at that time. Then this is the fourth - April 23, 2006, 2:05 p.m. when I brought myself to St. Luke's Hospital, Quezon City, for my loose bowel movement and for constantly throwing up.

I have a timeline of the things that happened to me and the things that I've done in the hospital but I think they are too personal and that you may not find anything essential in it except the words nagtae na naman or blood backflowed up to the middle of the dextrose hose since the nurses don't constantly check the patient unless you call them through the intercom.

This has been the most difficult hospitalization that I've got. Except Caro (who processed my admission papers, lent me Igno, her iPod nano that is, constantly visited me and bought me food) and Jay (who was compelled to visit me since I asked him to bring the pre-signed PhilHealth Form 1), nobody paid a visit. There were people who asked if they could still come and I told them no. God, I am not a well-mannered person but when I know if a friend or a close relative who is sick and is confined in the hospital, it's needless for me to ask if I could visit him or not - it's automatic for me to go to him, even without bringing something. Personally, asking one's friend if he could be visited or not solicits for that patient's guilt of bothering you. I hate it. If you want to pay a visit, you need not ask. It's nothing compulsory.

For that, I want to sincerely thank you, Caro and Jay. Thank you too, Arlette and Giz for sending me uplifting messages.

Through that experience, I've pondered upon two things. The first one was about what Joanna told me long ago - that, unlike in any other places, people in Manila don't have a strong support system. Friends wouldn't care if you're still breathing or not. All they're thinking are their own lives. And this experience proved that Anna was right. Though folks in Cebu were as busy as the people here, they never failed to come and see me when I was sick, though it was also a burden for my finances since I would have to order for their food every now and then. But then, their support was so amazing and it was only now that see the big difference.

The second thing is about my attitude. I couldn't forget what Caro said. "Kawawa ka naman. Wala ka'ng friends. Hahaha!" She's true. I don't have friends because it's my choice. And if I have some, they're just too few. I'm not a friendly and warm person and I don't care if people think of me as bitchy or what. Anyway, I was confined because of acute gastroenteritis, not because my leg had to be cut or what, so I was still able to drag my dextrose stand and go to the bathroom.

Hospital Review

Now comes my comments on the hospital. The service isn't too nice. I had been in the ER ward for five hours, waiting if I'll be confined or what. I was too pale and my lips were severely chapping and I've told the doctor right from the start that I want to be confined to regain my strength. Kesyo they still wanted to make sure if Hydrite would resolve the problem or not. I was already too weak and I found myself lying in an air conditioned yet very hot and very noisy room. Unlike in Chong Hua, they immediately gave me the form, told me to go to the frontdesk to get a number and before an hour, I found myself having a dextrose and being sent in a very cozy room that no one would think it's a hospital. St. Luke's is too hospital-ish that you still could feel that you're ill.

The food, as always, tastes so terrible. I am too particular on edible things since I know how to cook. As the primary priority in my life, I always make sure that what I take in are delicious and sad to say, I felt like I was eating something for the pigs. Even dog food would smell and taste better than those.

Anyway, I must commend the nurses for being so courteous and accomodating, though they don't possess the sense of urgency when you call them and that they don't have the timer to check what time they're supposed to replace your dextrose. Thanks for constantly refilling my bottle with water. And to the housekeepers and linen people, thanks for making my room and bed nice and neat.

Too bad that I was sick and "disabled." I would have seen Donita Rose in the hallway. Caro did. But I've seen Paul Salas, that bibo kid I constantly see on TV, whose father is one of the twins in the disbanded Universal Motion Dancers.

I'm out of the hospital. My mom asked if I could go home so that I would be treated by means of alternative medicine. I could sense that, as her only son, and her biologically youngest child, she misses me so badly. I'm also dying to go home but I'm afraid my company won't allow me. I would have to compete with several others to have my vacation leave approved. I don't know. But I miss Butuan... and also my family.