Guilt is Irrelevant - Gregory House, MD

The title is from Season 3, Episode 20 ("House Training") of my personal addiction, House MD. For those who are not familiar with the series, it's basically about an obnoxious, egoistic but amazing genius medical doctor who specializes in diagnostic medicine - basically figuring out what other doctors can't.

I watched this episode upon returning home, basically anticipating to finish the third season pretty soon. I chose to blog about this certain episode because it especially struck me. In this episode, a woman with aboulia (inability to decide) was misdiagnosed to have either an autoimmune disease or cancer - either disease involved the body attacking itself, thus requiring that the immune system be suppressed, first through steroids and then through whole body chemotherapy. Unfortunately, the treatments caused her to become septic, indicating that it wasn't autoimmune nor was it cancer. It was simply an infection, which was later discovered to be due to her bra hook that pierced through the skin and allowed the entry of bacteria. What's worse is that the bacteria was merely Staphylococcus aureus, a relatively manageable and curable disease given that antibiotics can effectively work with the body's immune system. In this case, though, the patient's immune system has been severed, and absolutely nothing can be done to reverse it.

My dream of one day becoming a doctor always involved saving patient's lives, receiving gratitude from their families, helping others, all the beautiful benefits of being in the medical field. Let's face it, one of the common denominators of this world is that we are all susceptible to disease. Every one has a health status, and only the privileged medical professionals are able to address these concerns. Therefore the magnitude of responsibility on the shoulders of these people are beyond cognition.

Medical professionals have so much in their hands that we often forget that they are human as well. But I don't blame anyone for this. After all, if the difference between life and death was greatly dependent on you, there should be no room for mistakes. This was when I realized that after all this madness is over, I would be facing a different world as a doctor. No, it's not about insecurities or low self-esteem, I know I'm bound to make a mistake. Another episode of House MD, Season 1 Episode 21 ("Three Stories"), saw House lecturing a class of medical students. He remarked that inevitably, a doctor can and will screw up, and anyone interested in being a doctor should learn to accept that fact else he shouldn't even be in the field. I'm just so afraid of how I would take that all in.

When the most guilt-trodden member of the team, Foreman, approached House, apparently asking for some form of absolution, House said the line I used as a title. True enough, there was nothing they could do, but House further remarked that they did their job the way they knew how to. How they think of diagnoses and address diseases are what make them better doctors.

I've basically seen a sneak peek of my future. I'm not saying I'm ready, but I hope I will be. Of course I wouldn't intentionally do that to a patient, but I feel that, when I'm in that position, a dying patient is almost tantamount to an evidence of murder.

On Inspiration and Writing

So maybe zombies do exist. I am here, right?

Well, aside from the fact that stress has basically consumed the life out of me, my most recent post will tell you I haven't had much time for writing. True, I had been piled up with requirements from all directions, and I still thank God that He got me through that. However, admittedly, I also devoted my time to Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Formspring and whathaveyous. My passion for writing has unfortunately dwindled as I have come to write only for back-breaking requirements or have satisfied myself with typing short and oftentimes misspelled comments on social networks. No wonder I feel like a failure.

This just isn't me. It's funny. I remember the time when I only had my diary to rely on. It was plain, old-fashioned cursive handwriting with all the drawings to go with it. I even had the notion that Friendster was evil back then (Haha!). I caved in when I finally got myself an email, a Friendster account and a Yahoo! Messenger account. It was in my sophomore year of High School when Blogger got to me as well, but even that had to go through several changes (read: password forgetting) before I got to this present account. Now I've been to more sites than I can remember.

Wow. Things change.

I've changed.

Now, I enjoy going to malls, watching movies, and whatever social satisfaction there is today. All of these were taboo about 10 years ago. I had sworn myself to dorkhood and I actually enjoyed it. Not to spit on my current interests, though. I actually like the fact that I have grown to expand my horizons.

But there was a price all along. And I've only recently noticed how deep into debt I am.

I was very sheltered. Though that pretty much is boring, the good thing about that was my talents have been cultivated through that. I have a dozen of things to talk about, but let me just focus on one for now - Writing.

I've loved to write since forever. I have a collection of notebooks that hold my very own poems and often unfinished short stories. I was very much amazed at how I had written all of those. This isn't bragging. That statement stemmed from genuine regret, regret at having forgotten that talent, a talent that I had even shared with my father.

Today, however, while preparing for tomorrow's Panel Discussion, I stumbled upon Patricia Evangelista's website. I was initially only looking for a manuscript of her speech, "Blonde and Blue Eyes" but eventually I found myself in an ocean of her written works. It's not surprising since she's a public figure and a columnist to boot, but I couldn't help but think that I could do the same. I'm no celebrity but writing has always been my best avenue for releasing so many emotions. I dare say it's therapeutic for me.

I know it's kind of too late to even think of writing regularly as summer is coming to a close, but hey, this post is worth a shot. Hopefully, this newfound zeal of mine can sustain me in redefining myself as a writer. I need not be famous, I just want to be able to write. All those years not writing equal a lot of catching up to do. Again, I'm not promising a regular writing habit, but the least I can promise is that I would view writing more than just a faculty that I can depend on. Obviously, that part of me has degenerated, and I have to fix that.