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A Letter to Someone

From this post, I received the following comment;

Dear friends, kindly take this in mine. Not all things that happen in life, especially misfortunes, are caused by what we think they are. At times, things happen because of others’ misdeeds but we accuse another. I just hope that we clarify things first before accusing and condemning anybody. A mistake will not and will never [be] solved by another mistake. So, let’s reserve our judgment until everything is clarified. Thanks

My Response;

Militiki,

I agree that sometimes good intentions are tarnished by someone else’s greed and selfishness. However, Northcap has to take responsibility to whatever problem that one of its owners has incurred to the reviewees. I see that the management has and will always regret this very sad phase; nevertheless as one of the victims, I don’t feel that it is doing or has done its best to help us.

In fact, it was the owner of the Bataan branch who did most of the work in order for us to reach DOLE, the PRC and all other government agencies there is to talk to. During the first ever Northcap-parents meeting in Bataan, some parents of Baguio Reviewees traveled down all the way from the high mountains of Benguet just to know what was really happening.

You said, “I just hope that we clarify things first before accusing and condemning anybody”. PUTANG INA! Nag iisip ka ba? Sinong sisihin namin, ngayong isa na nga sa mga owners yung gumago samin?

Last Sunday, Northcap presented some promising proposals to appease our spirits, free reviews for the next board, free review for NCLEX, CGFNS, and IELTS. Ang tanong; may Northcap Bataan pa ba sa susunod? The franchise owner of Northcap Bataan, has explicitly expressed her disappointments with the company and voiced her plan to dissolve Northcap Bataan.

Ano pa ba ang ikaclarify natin? The Licensure Examination for Nurses is bound to happen on Sunday. Just imagine how much we resent the passing days knowing that we cannot take the board exam this June. Naisip mo ba kung ilan kaming umiyak dahil dyan ha?

A Letter to Someone

Dear Miss Sakamoto,

More than a year ago, I assisted a delivery in this particular hospital where I am about to return for my internship tonight (10pm-6am shift). The birth opened my awareness to the great sacrifice that hails the coming of motherhood, especially having to witness the blood, screams and pain that came with it. I would be ashamed of my self if I, as a nurse in training, would fail to discern the miracle at work as the newborn came forth this world from the mother’s womb, through my own hands. You really have to be there to appreciate what was happening. The experience of assisting a delivery is beyond any textbooks or instructional videos could give.

Indeed, pregnancy and birth are grueling periods that most women choose to go through. My heart is filled with an overflowing admiration to those who choose to tread the path of this nine-month long torment; however I put an even higher esteem to you, my old friend. Certainly, getting pregnant five months before your graduation day and at the age of twenty is foolish, but deciding on keeping the baby and facing all the arduous consequences humbled us. And we are very proud of you.

Yes, I know that explaining things to your parents, and soon to the whole world, will prove not an easy task, therefore remember that even though a great storm may reduce a whole forest to a wasteland, beneath the ground lies the limitless opportunities for seeds that lay dormant to flourish and blossom; reminding us that no matter how ruthless the world may be, do not lose hope and find a way to be happy ( I am sure that your coming child will not fail to bring this happiness to you).

Our little talk last night proves that I need not to worry so much… and I believe that you are doing all right. Just always keep your optimism with you and take care of yourself. Be brave. I know you can do it.

Congratulations.

A Letter to Someone

To whom it may concern,

While walking to school this morning, you must have remembered, I came across you jogging. I have seen you jogged along this street since you’ve recovered from your recent confinement in the Intensive Care Unit. I really do not care about your health or anything that has something to do with you, but what really caught my attention was the sudden smile that you gave me.

I was walking to catch the bus to school when I saw you running from the opposite end of the street. You were jogging, as what you’ve been doing for the past days, and you smiled at me. Seldom do I pause for anything on my way to school. If I sought to stop at every thing that is unusual that come and passes by I wouldn’t be able to catch the bus that will take me to school. But since your smile was indeed unexpected, I halted and looked down at my zippers.

Days ago, I met my Goddaughter’s mother. She stopped by our house to tell me her bizarre morning. She was walking to catch the tricycle to work when she met you. She was walking to work when you passed by jogging and you smiled at her. She knows very well how you despise her and she doesn’t really care since she hates twice. I asked her what she did and she said she just froze on the spot, unable to comprehend anything. She begged her husband afterward to explain him just what had happened. After some time of thinking, her husband concluded; she must’ve left her zipper open and you saw it and smiled. It isn’t impossible anyway, with your dirty deeds in the past who would not think so.

You were jogging this morning and I was walking to school. We glanced at each other and your grimy teeth showed, which made you look like an old toad looking at a juicy fly. I almost vomited on my uniform. I was mortified.

Yes, I clearly remember that day when you were rushed to the Emergency Room where I was about to have my internship. It was Wednesday afternoon, the day before my duty. I felt bad that I wasn’t there. However, I heard that you were later on transferred to the Intensive Care Unit of a private hospital. I didn’t hear much the name of the hospital but I was hoping that they’d sent you to the Hospital where I was going to attend my ICU duty.

Days passed until my two-week long stay in the Emergency Room fell from the calendar and I was moved to the Intensive Care Unit. I was already seeing it. How happy I was just thinking about it, oh, that would have been the happiest part of my college life. I have already planned it thoroughly. The vision of your demise as I looked at you lifeless body elated me so much. My hopes were high.

“Just 5 cc of air,” I whispered to my self. Just 5 cc of an empty syringe would be enough to steal away you life. The thought rushed into my mind as I was fascinated with the mirage of bubbles clearly passing through your IV tube from my syringe into your vein until they reach you vena cava, your heart and finally engulfing the alveoli of your lungs, forming an air embolus within it.

Just 5 cc of air into your bloodstream and you would have died of pulmonary embolism and no one would even suspect; death as a complication of the present illness.

To my dismay, you were transferred to a different hospital, not the one where I hoped you were confined. I sulked, finding only the solace whenever I meet your son in the bus that carries me to school and him to your nasty cell, haggard and losing weight. But I did not give up hoping that you’d die in that hospital, but as the proverb goes, “an obnoxious weed is hard to kill,” and so were you. You survived.

This morning as I saw you running from the opposite end of the street, as you fleetingly glanced at me and smirked, I almost found my self rushing to you and spitting at your face saying, “I’m going to have you murdered.”

With all regards,

A Letter to Someone

Dear So-and So,

In my yearning to re-educate myself of the countless lessons that I have easily forgotten in my Nursing Major Subjects I finally took the step to dive into the huge bulk of dusty old notes, hand outs, books and envelops that were left untouched and were piled in my bookshelf, when I came to find an old brown envelop. What really caught my attention was the 6 paged term paper that I passed to you about four years ago.

It is about the different theories proposed by Piaget, Kohlberg and Freud. My term paper was written in a very bad English, not that I have improved since then, but I found it very much embarrassing and amusing at the same time. Funny how that sometimes happen, eh?

And it all came back to me, how you challenged our whole class into a bet saying that our particular block will fail to have a 100% submission on the deadline, and how we won and you paid us through your queer “children’s party.” Yes, you called it our “children’s party.” You asked us to bring our own childhood photos and recite to the class the story behind each photo as we lick our ice creams and muffins. It was indeed a cool experience. You even taught us how to tell a Spanish Bread from the other bread. You joked, “Just ask ‘¿Cómo estás?’ and if it answered back, it is a Spanish Bread.” You laughed at your own silliness; I merely smirked at your facial expression.

I also remember your Final examination when you asked in the last item, for 5 points, about what sort of gift we would give you on your birthday. I said the photocopy of JK Rowling’s draft of Harry Potter. I said the photocopy only, since I’ll be keeping the original. You don’t know that I sniggered as my ink smeared the test paper with my abominable penmanship.

Yes, your class has been the coolest thing in my freshman year, yet it would have been ten notches cooler if you were able to hypnotized me with your sooper dee dooper amazing “Hand Levitation.” I felt bad that I was not affected by your ethereal voice or even the hair raising sounds of your windchimes as you ordered us to clear our minds and focus; to let go of all the mundane of the other classrooms. My classmates yelped in amazement as their hands remained standing on invisible air, withstanding any physical force to bend them low. Such a great power, and I felt even more bitter.

And I prepared my self to hate you, but I was unsuccessful. Maybe because you were really hilarious when you, one day, stood on top of the table and started stretching your arms and feet as you do the so-called “Shibashi”- the ancient art of deep breathing. You made us stand also as we stretched our arms and inhaled and exhaled audibly as you relate us the story, or rather the Nursery rhyme of the Malaking Siopao (Ultra Massive Steamed Dimsum). It was funny. It was liberating. It was funny and liberating to be ridiculous sometimes.

I read my term paper for the third time and so I concluded, you are the strangest, but in a good way, professor that I have ever had. Indeed nobody surpassed your uniqueness, not even the historian who bawled and sniffed as he told us about the People Power Revolution, or the ex-seminarian who cheerfully reminded us that cheating is only wrong when somebody caught you, or the young lady who joked that a comatose man who ejaculates after your diligent massage on his penis is not really under coma but is actually awake and is just pretending to be asleep.

I am nearing my retirement now as a college student and I swear you will be one of the reasons I will never forget my college life. Thank you.

Sincerely yours,