Nosocomephobia

Nosocomephobia



Hummin': No Way Out by Phil Collins

I searched Google to look for the exact word that would embody all that I'm feeling right now. Here's what I've found: Nosocomephobia, refers to an abnormal and persistent fear of hospitals.

I have just been to a doctor, an old childhood friend of my mom who is an ob-gyne in UST that my mom met again in a highschool reunion after being out of touch in nearly thirty years. And even though she is so nice and polite, I really don't want to see her ever again.

Aside from the embarassment of having to expose myself under careful scrutiny, I suffered like a nervous wreck who went from fake, pasted smiles to shriveled frowns and mumbled complaints of "ow" and "ouch" in an instant.

Two minutes can last far longer than you think.

After looking inside me (think whatever you want to think), she tells me I'm fine. Then before leaving, I showed her the blood tests that came much earlier than expected, hoping and half-expecting to get a thumbs-up and a "you can go." But the smile was wiped off her face in an instant.

Apparently, my level of liver-something was much, much higher than normal. She says nothing else in the blood test results shows any sign of a complication, but usually, people with Hepatitis are the only ones who reach this level. To ease my probably shocked expression, she says there are some people who just naturally have higher levels.

BUT.

To be sure, she says I better get a blood test AGAIN and see her after I do. My mom retorted, "Again!?" and then looked at me with a smile, as if she had just successfully stolen a lollipop from my hand. (She knows just how much I dread needles.) Then, the doctor wrote an address and referred me to two specialists that I have to visit tomorrow.

Huhuhu...

Damn.

I'm currently in the process of developing severe Nosocomephobia.

Pincushion of Sorts

Pincushion of Sorts




I'm currently in pain. Nothing major, but still, in relative pain. I've had three long needles stuck into my right arm and two hands just this morning, because apparently, my veins are too small. So the nurse took the displeasure of having to take a couple of tries before finally hitting the mark.

OUCH.

I've just learned what a pincushion feels.

I never thought I was scared of needles. I thought my fears were limited to rats, lizards and the like. But when I saw the thin metal unwrapped, attached to the plastic suction thing and the nurse started swabbing my skin with alcohol, I felt my stomach tying into knots and my heartbeat rising to a quick rhythm.

I almost felt like crying. Those twenty minutes I spent inside the clinic felt like the longest twenty minutes of my life. I don't know why, but I never felt this way before about getting an injection though. Maybe it was sort of traumatic as a child, or maybe I just never allowed my fears to overcome me.

Despite the urge to cry for Mommy during that horrible time, I remained stoic, masking my fear with silence.

During the second try, which only ended up with another puncture on my arm and no success at that elusive vein, the nurse attempted to comfort me. She asked, "Painful?" a couple of times in what she felt like her sweetest, most sympathetic voice while she maneuvered the freaking needle inside me.

Looking back, if I wasn't wincing so much on that stinging pain, I probably would have rolled my eyes at her and say, "DUH!?" with a flair.

But on second thought, that would be rude, and I don't want to be ill-mannered, especially not when she's armed with the needle halfway inside my arm.

Pringles In Solitude

Pringles In Solitude





I'm supposed to be sleeping, dreaming of handsome guys or hair-raising monsters, but instead, I'm typing away on the keyboard, having only Salt and Vinegar Pringles for company. I figured it's already four-thirty in the morning and I have to be up by 6 anyway, so what's the use of sleeping?

Why so unbelievably early, you're probably wondering?

See, I have to be up by 6, at least three hours before my doctor's appointment. In a few hours' time, a freaky needle is going to be stuck on my arm and rust-smelling blood will be drawn out for tests.

I'm not sick, or at least, as far as I know. It's just that I've been having long lapses with what's supposed to be a monthly period and my mom's getting paranoid about the possible causes of this abnormality. When the normal routine should be raising the red flag monthly, I had actually undergone a 6-month drought. (Yes, I saved up a lot of money from not buying sanitary napkins.)

But I am getting scared, and what-if's are beginning to hound me with hypothetical scenarios that just makes everything doubly frightening.

Paranoia is ALWAYS contagious.

What if something has gone wrong? Something serious?

*Goosebumps*

I'm suffering from Early Morning Madness. Even my waking hours are now filled with nightmares.


PS: If anyone's interested, check out my friend's blog: Aether. I've been making her a Beatles layout around two hours ago and I'm nearly done. *wink*

Unappreciated

Unappreciated



Hummin': Last Thing On My Mind by Ronan Keating/Leann Rhimes

I've done everything you asked me to do today. I've been fixing and rearranging stuff just to make you happy. But what was the first thing you notice? Did you notice that I've been following orders since morning? Did you notice that I've accomplished a lot today? Did you notice that I've been working hard today despite the fact that I should be enjoying my first day of academic freedom?

NO.

All you said when you saw me sitting down for a while was, "Hindi ka na nagbago..."

I was hurt. I wanted to scream back, "Sinusubukan na nga eh. Pero nakikita mo ba? " I was pissed off. I really feel as though nothing I do will ever suffice. I've NEVER been good enough. Sounds cliche-ish, but in my case, it's true.

I once poured out my sadness to you, crying about the world's injustice and how I felt so deprived. I took a risk. I opened my heart, wanting to find someone who would understand and feel my pain. I thought you would.

Did you say things will get better? Did you hug me to share my burden? Did you even attempt to comfort me with "it's not your fault?"

No. You made me feel that I deserve all the bad things that come my way. You made me feel like I'm the lowest living creature in the world. I could see my confidence melting into a puddle right under my feet. You make me want to puke at myself.

And yet, you ask why I used to hate you so much?

Maybe you shouldn't ask. Maybe you should look in the mirror and see how hard it is to love you.

What do YOU think?

Background Preference



Hummin': Survivor by Destiny's Child

I'm having this small dilemma of whether or not this new, gray and blue background looks better than the last one. So, here are my five most favorite backgrounds. I've taken the looks of previous backgrounds and uploaded them. Just click on the names to see the pictures.

MY TOP 5:
1. My Muse
2. Grays & Blue
3. Fly Free
4. Daddy's Girl
5. Free Butterfly

Please vote for which one you think looks the best. Thanks!

Round & Round We Go...

Round & Round We Go...



Hummin': Two Worlds by Phil Collins

Life's never fair...I guess.

Most of the time, I whine and rant all day about how my day went ballistic, especially during those times where I had fallen victim to injustice or had been destined to a cruel fate. Those are the days that I really couldn't stop bitching about certain instruments used by God to teach me a lesson.

Feeling ko kasi aping-api ako.

However, there are certain days that I find myself undeserving of a gift, yet right in front of me is one of life's presents being offered to lucky ol' me on a silver platter for no reason at all. A blessing for ME?! I respond with one word: surreal.

I hurriedly look out the window, wondering if something has happened to the planetary alignments and if the world's going to end. Yet, I discover that the world still spins on its unfair and imbalanced axis.

What's surprising though is that I find myself on the benefactor's side.

Does this mean that the world really is *gasp* round? And that no matter how many times I go under and get rolled over flat by the world, I will still manage to find myself standing on top and waving my flag victoriously, even for a few stolen moments of bliss?

I see skeptic looks.

Will this obvious mistake in the cosmos cause my fortune to change forever?

HAH! Dream on, you say.

Yeah? Well, I will. Because as long as I keep dreaming, I know I will find my way to the top, no matter how hard the climb.

Sugar Deprived

Sugar Deprived



Hummin': Haven't been singing.

I'm down.

I haven't left the house in two days. I've been sitting here, warming my plastic monoblock chair in front of the computer screen for two straight days. I'm starting to get back pain and eye strain from all the studying (and chatting and blogging) that I've been doing.

And if there is such a thing as guzzling down too much Orange Juice, I think this is the case. I've been craving for some sweets, maybe to boost me up with some sugar in my system and get my batteries running, but I haven't been succesful. Our cupboards are all empty and everyone's too busy to go pick up groceries. Plus, naughty phantom ghosts have been nabbing my notes and hiding them in places I didn't remember putting them in.

ARGH.

I'm just bored. I don't like studying, especially not Theology and most DEFINITELY NOT Philosophy. So, I'm forcing myself to memorize, understand, imbibe the words of saints and priests wisely spoken eons ago... Why the torture, Father, why?!? Que Horror!

I'm just hoping that maybe, if Fate decides to be nicer tomorrow, I might just pass this test.

Why am I writing like a scatterbrained twit?

That's because I am.




Dun-dun-dun-dun.


...To Theology and beyooooooonnnd...

Feeloshofee

Feeloshofee



Hummin': Color Everywhere by Youth Asylum

$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew.

Glad that I've gotten that over with. See, I've spent more than 24 hours just pouring sweat and tears over today's Philosophy oral examination. I've been reading, reviewing and philosophizing over 21 really intense and condensed pages that Rae and I slaved over preparing for six hours straight.

I really have been saturating my head with all sorts of "existing OR not-existing" philosophical crap that I know I won't really use after college. But I did it all, because I have a pretty good chance of maintaining a relatively high grade in that subject. (Plus, we're required to take the same Philo teacher next semester. So it was very important to give a fairly good impression of my worth as a student.)

*Inhales deeply*

Well, now I have no choice but to say goodbye to that grade I worked so hard to get. I just messed my whole oral examination with my staggering lines and muddled reasoning. Out of the 14 thesis paragraphs we were given, I happened to randomly pick the WORST one of the lot. I picked the one I understood the LEAST. And now, I'm paying for it.

I feel like I've been robbed.

My mom's rubbing it in, saying I can't blame anyone else because I haven't been the most diligent student this whole semester. And I guess, in a way she's right. I've never been the student who studies a week before the test. I cram it all in the night before and make sure I don't sleep until I know I can answer even just half of the testpaper the next day.

Fate always finds a way to get back at me, making me realize life will never be a breeze, biting a chunk off my ass when I least expect it. I should've known it is inevitable to happen. Life never stays at a stable plateau.



But why does it have to HURT so damn much!?!

Cast PartY

Cast PartY


Feelin': Itchy
Hummin': Color Everywhere by Christian Bautista

Yes, it was last friday, yups, about 48 hours ago.
Yes, it is the weekend before the finals.
Yes, I do have an oral exam on Philosophy tomorrow.
Yes, I do have to cram it all in before lunch tomorrow.
Yes, I said I don't drink, but I guess I do now.
Yes, the late hours made my eyes puffier than they already are.
Yes, I slept over Ina's house and bonded with the other girls.
Yes, I was scratching more that usual when I woke up.
Yes, I found out that I do have allergic rashes all over me.
Yes, it is itchy and uncomfortable.
Yes, it was because of the liquor.
Yes, it was embarassing to win "most likely to get married first" award.

And...

YES, it was a damn good party!!!

Thanks Ina for letting us sleep over!

Second Chances

Second Chances




Not everyone gets a second chance at something that they fail to do. Sometimes, life just won't allow you to redeem yourself, even if you drop to your knees, walk that way for a hundred miles and bawl your eyes out. But in rather rare occasions, a person is fortunate to be granted or presented with another opportunity to undo a wrong, or at least, restore what once was.

I've learned lessons through perplexing acts of fate what it feels like to be granted a second chance, even when I know deserve it the least. It feels as though fresh, cold water has been handed to you while you're traveling in a desert at the point that your tongue feels as rough and as dry as the burning sand. It made me want to smile and hug everyone.

Refreshing, awakening, rejuvenating.

I figured, the least I can do is repair as much of the damage as I possibly can. I will probably leave a mark, a scar of my wrongdoing, but I thought, I could go to the drug store, buy Sebo de Macho and maybe lighten it a bit.

Stress Relievers

Stress Relievers



Hummin': I'm Your Angel by Celine Dion

Wife: You always carry my photo in your handbag to the office. Why?

Hubby: When there is a problem, no matter how impossible, I look at your picture and the problem disappears.

Wife: You see, how miraculous and powerful I am for you?

Hubby: Yes, I see your picture and say to myself, "What other problem can there be greater than this one?"

*****

A newly married man asked his wife, "Would you have married me if my father hadn't left me a fortune?"

"Honey," the woman replied sweetly, "I'd have married you NO MATTER WHO LEFT YOU A FORTUNE!"

*****

"How was your blind date?" a college student asked her roommate.

"Terrible!" the roommate answered. "He showed up in his 1932 Rolls Royce."

"Wow! That's a very expensive car. What 's so bad about that?"

"He is the original owner."

*****

Interviewer to Millionaire: To whom do you owe your success as a millionaire?"

Millionaire: "I owe everything to my wife."

Interviewer: "Wow, she must be some woman. What were you before you married her?"

Millionaire: "A Billionaire."

*****

Well, that was a nice break from pounding my head with Philosophy! I've written three papers last night and today I have around 3 left to go! Haha! What a fun life this is!

Intellectual Connection?

Intellectual Connection?



Hummin': Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows

WARNING: Turn off all malicious radars before proceeding.

A recent lengthy conversation with a good friend of mine had brought some questions to mind. Both of us often engage in long chats because we watch the same movies, like the same series and reality shows and meet at a certain level of commonality.

And that made me shift to my "love-doctor" mode and ask, would it be better to be physically attracted to a person of the opposite sex or be intellectually compatible with him?

I mean, sure, if you get both, then DON'T LET HIM GO! But if you have to choose between the two, which one priority would outweigh the other? For certain, being physically attracted to a person can bring you goosebumps, cheesy smiles, touchy-feelies and all that *P.D.A. whenever you're around him. But then, having that same intellectual wavelength can keep you entertained, fascinated and growing in knowledge even for hours and hours with just sitting, talking and sharing thoughts with that person.

If I were to choose between the two extremes, I honestly wouldn't know which one to choose either. Would I go for the trophy guy that I can parade to my girlfriends or would I rather have someone to actually converse with during dinner?

Well, I could say it's not the outside but rather the inside, or what's "up there" that counts. But let's all cut the crap and admit it, even though we can claim that "LOOKS doesn't matter," it does...even to the littlest extent. (Who'd want to be with someone they can't even look at? Forgive that moment of harshness.)

I would end this entry to leave you with some brain candy to last you awhile, and get back to me with your thoughts, alright? As for me, well tonight just before drifting off to my own planet, I'll just have to pray to God and beg him to give me someone who'd fit right in between. *wink*




*P.D.A. = Public Displays of Affection.