Sunday, June 7, 2009


I’ve just recently discovered the joy and exhilaration of going on duty wearing tsinelas. What fun. What pure comfort. Walking back and forth, scouring the entire bleeping hospital to write my token notes that wouldn’t even get a token reading. One of my friends training in a private hospital was once caught with his necktie loosened and out of place at 12 midnight, and he was fined, so I guess whatever difficulties I whine about here at least I can walk around the hospital wearing the most kupas, collar-less t-shirt, no blazers on, matched by soiled jeans and tsinelas, with my steth the only thing differentiating me from a bantay. I’ll probably get twenty memos for this and a lot of scolding on that rare occasion that they send spies in the wards, and they do send spies, but what the heck. Speaking of which, who exactly are these spies? Nurses? Pretend patients? A… co-resident? Conspiracy! Still, my dream is to go on duty at the ER wearing shorts.

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