COMMUTING. More Fun in the Philippines

The new DOT slogan has invoked mixed reviews from the public, but it has also inspired many to participate and create numerous memes on the countless things one thinks is more fun in the Philippines. Here is mine.

There is one thing all middle-class working citizens have in common: most of them commute to work. And unlike first world countries who have highly efficient transportation system, ours is admittedly a bit lacking, and quite chaotic. But the way I see it, unlike the predictable and routine ways of rush hour commuting in other countries, here in Manila, everyday is an adventure waiting to happen. It may not be fast or even comfortable, but it is surely an experience that is uniquely Filipino.

10. Yung nirereject ng LRT2 vending machines yung mga piso mo kasi dinidiscriminate nila ang 2010 series at wala ka ng ibang barya.

9. Yung ginagawa kang unan ng katabing mong natutulog sa bus.

8. Yung nandiyan na ang tren at paakyat ka palang sa platform tapos may nakabara na lovers sa escalator ayaw magpadaan.

7. Yung ang sarap na ng tulog mo sabay bababa yung katabi mo sa FX.

6. Yung magbabayad ka sa jeep tapos walang gustong mag-abot.

5. Yung nagbabayad lahat sa jeep tapos ikaw naman ang abot ng abot.

4. Yung pag sinabi ng jeep na may isa pang bakante na upuan sa loob, ibig sabihin nun magpapanggap kang nakaupo habang naka-squat hanggang may bumaba na pasahero.

3. Yung patawid ka na ng kalsada sabay may haharang na jeep/bus sa harap mo pinipilit kang sumakay.

2. Yung moment na male-LATE ka na, tapos nagpa-gas pa yung Jeep/FX na sinasakyan mo.

...and my personal favorite, the one thing everybody has probably encountered at one time or another...

1. Yung feeling na ikaw ang huling sasakay sa gitnang part ng FX tapos hindi mo maisara yung pinto.

** Photo from Google Images

Blood Stains, the Smell of Disinfectant and the RH Bill

Blood stains. I saw them everyday for months during a certain period in my life. Blood on the floor, on hospitals gowns and on previously pristine white sheets. The room could almost be a set of a horror movie if not for the dozens of crying babies and nursing mothers..

For weeks it was always the same routine. Everyday, I would march the hallway armed with my medical artillery. Thermometer, stethoscope, a sphygmomanometer and a piece of paper. The whole bond paper will be filled with vital sign statistics after my round was done. Temperature, blood pressure, heart rate and respiratory rate. One column for the mother, one column for the baby. Multiplied by a hundred.

I would always brace myself upon entering the ward because I know an hour of repetitive vital signs taking will pass before I get to leave and inhale fresh air again. Imagine this: 12 single sized hospital beds, 4 mothers per bed plus baby. Sometimes we get a 2-3 pairs of mother and child per hospital bed on a good day, but 6 pairs on a toxic shift. And yes, you did the math correctly. That's a dozen people sharing one mattress. They would sleep while sitting down. Sometimes, the brazen ones would sleep on the bare floor.

I have to give credit to the hospital for doing the best they can. A few times per day, someone would wipe the floor with a heavily scented disinfectant, gather soiled hospital gowns and change the blood stained bed sheets. But with mothers and babies pouring in like giving birth is the newest craze of the nation and there is a million pesos to be won if a baby came out of your womb, there was still a lot to be done.

The odor of lochia mixed with the sharp sterile smell of industrial antiseptic would always haunt me on my way home. It stuck to my uniform and even my hair. While riding a jeepney, thoughts of these mothers cramped all together in clumps while their babies cried in discomfort occupied my mind. Furthermore, snippets of their stories would replay in my head like some eerie documentary montage about the status of women in some God-forsaken country. But this was not some African jungle miles from where I live, this was home.

I remember once overhearing a conversation, while giving medication, between my patient and her mother. A newborn baby girl was sleeping at their side. The grandmother was scolding her child because she would not stand up for herself when her husband got angry at her for giving birth, for the 3rd time, to yet another girl. He told her that he still wanted to try to have a boy, despite his meager income. I tried butting in to say that the father always determine the sex of the baby and it was not and will never be the mother's fault for giving birth to a beautiful baby girl but they looked so heated I didn't dare trespass. 

Social Services were always in our part of the hospital. It turned out, there were too many mothers who cannot pay the hospital fees to be able to go home with their child, hence, they get left behind to stay in the ward until they have the adequate finances to settle the bills, therefore occupying precious space that was supposed to be for newly arrived patients. Many of these families have more than 3 children to raise and take care of. And I wonder, if they cannot settle a less than 5,000 php hospital fee, how much harder would it be to feed, clothe and educate their existing children?

Thirteen. The age of the youngest post-partum mother I've ever cared for. Giving birth at thirteen was not record breaking by any means, but it was still bewildering for me to think how much different her life would be  compared to other girls her age. I witnessed an instance one time where her baby was crying and she didn't even know how to pick up her own child from the bed. Her 'bedmates', veteran mothers with 3 or more children and counting were trying to teach her how to carry her baby but all she looked was lost and defeated.

I always enjoyed watching mothers fill-out the birth certificate forms in the lying-in area. The choice of a child's name must have been an important decision for the couple that most commonly include both parties' ideas. It will be the name the baby would be forever identified with. However, I was shocked by the percentage of women who would look at their husband's / unwed father's faces in a clueless haze asking him what he wanted to name the baby and even to the point of what spelling should the name be spelled in. It was the image of absolute reliance and incapability to decide that struck me the wrong way.

See, I grew up in an environment where women held all the cards and did all the decision making that has to be done. I couldn't understand how these women could just depend everything on their spouses without having an opinion of their own. More than once, the mothers would always pass the birth certificate form to the father despite our request that they fill it up themselves. I could sense their hesitation and awkwardness in handling something important and it pained me to witness how crippled their sense of self worth were. Empowered, these women were definitely not.

She was 16, pregnant on her second trimester and was having respiratory problems. During my night shift, I went into her room almost every hour because she was having a hard time breathing despite already being administered Oxygen via nasal cannula and positioned in high Fowler's (almost sitting). I took her Vital Signs more frequently and in the process, got to know her, and the father of the child who was watching her, a little better. She was a sweet girl, well-mannered, soft spoken, with lovely eyes. I thought that she shouldn't be undergoing this kind of life-threatening condition at her age, that maybe, a little more guidance and information could have made a long way, but I do commend her strength in such adversities.

Shift ended. I endorsed the situation and went on my way. It was the last day of my stay in the ward and I felt pretty accomplished. I learned a lot and got to meet interesting people along the way. I wished the best to all the patients I've met during my stay and said a little prayer for those who may be needing a tad more help than others. I slept soundly that night. The next day, I learned that Lovely Eyes and her baby died in the delivery room due to respiratory complications.

So call me whatever names you want, threaten me with eternity in the fiery depths of hell.

These are the reasons why I support the RH Bill.




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2011 PHILIPPINE BLOG AWARDS
Special Categories - Best Single Post
WINNER, Top Post of 2011

http://www.philippineblogawards.com.ph/2011/12/05/congratulations-to-the-winners-of-the-2011-philippine-blog-awards-nationals/

Top 10 Things I Learned from the OB Ward

10. 60 patients in the ward versus 1 staff nurse and 1 trainee is considered a benign shift.

9. "Not seen during rounds." Trodat. is an accepted Nurse's Notes' charting.

8. Ampicillin, Ketorolac and Nalbuphine are best of friends. Sometimes, they also hang-out with buddies Gentamycin and Metronidazole.

7. Some patients never buy medicines. They just collect Rxs and irritate the medication nurse.

6. Medication x 100, IV insertion, carrying out orders, extraction, MgSO4, handling patients numerous enough to build an army etc. (Okay, halfway there. I felt compelled to put in something semi-serious for everyone else's sanity)

5. Patients panic once their IV bottles are empty or they see blood in their IV line like they're going to have a cardiac arrest because of it. Re-hook new one immediately or flush mentioned blood. Or else, relative will follow you around the ward and watch everything that you do.

4. The smell of disinfectant and lochia combined will haunt you on your way home.

3. There's nothing awkward about asking somebody you barely know (in front of other people): "Naka-utot na ba kayo?"

2. It is possible to fit 6 mothers and 6 babies in a single-sized bed.

...and the No.1 thing I learned from my 2-month stay at the OB Ward:

1. The location of Lying-In and how to get there. "Sir, sa Lying-In po yan, diretso sa dulong-dulo tapos kaliwa."

Remembering ONDOY: Lessons Learned and Unlearned?

It was exactly one year ago when I woke up and found our world submerged in meters of muddy flood water. Never did we imagine it would reach our house (the highest one in probably the highest street in the area), but as everybody now knows, Ondoy wasn't a normal storm and the flood it brought wasn't the normal Oh-crap-my-shoes-are-going-to-be-wet flood but, unfortunately, terrifyingly, it was the Oh-my-God-we're-all-going-to-die kind.

Thousands of different stories, all happened at the same time, all told with fervor and incredulity afterward.

I've already told my story so it would be redundant to repeat them here. Although after reading my own posts written 12 months ago, I still can't believe all the miraculous coincidences that brought about us surviving the worst flood Metro Manila and neighboring provinces has ever seen.

• Ondoy's Wrath (Ketsana) Part I
• Ondoy's Wrath Part II: Ghost Town

This is my story. What's yours? And more importantly, do we really want to remember them? Aside from the horror and lost assets, I do think there are lessons to be learned from this catastrophe. It's like a Mother Nature spanking session. And heaven forbid, we've truly been bad boys and girls throwing garbage in rivers, cutting off trees and ultimately destroying the world we are living in. She needs us to learn from our mistakes and formulate measures to prevent it from happening again.

So, one year later, have we learned our lesson? Or are we facing another punishment, maybe this time complete with whips or rock salt / munggo seeds ready to be kneeled on?

Credit: Photo by Icegene.

Source: http://shatteredlike.deviantart.com/#/d2bfo2a

The Anatomy of Nurse Volunteerism

So you just graduated from college, pinned that university nursing pin on your left collar, passed the board exam and pledged to God, BON and Nightingale that you will spend your life in purity and practice your profession faithfully. You undergo a myriad of trainings and seminars, First Aid, BLS, IVT, because it is considered mandatory nowadays and most hospitals will not allow you to 'work' for their institution without  expensive training certificates.

You pass your resume to several hospitals, use to your advantage every backer you and your parents know. After a couple of weeks of waiting, you get restless, bored and depressed from being an unproductive member of society. You are already considered a young adult. You're supposed to be doing something with your life.

You consider applying for call center jobs just to earn money, but your brand new PRC license, 4 years worth of nursing education and Nightingale's spirit floating in the air beside you like a Safeguard commercial stops you from letting go of your registered profession altogether. Mainly because there's nothing else left to do, you decide to file and volunteer for a hospital. You try to delude yourself that you are training, but inside, you know that  what you are doing is offering your services for free.

After months, even years for some, you find yourself again inside the busy bustling world of vital signs, charting, IVs and orders. It's amazing, fun and intoxicating. You meet new people, make friends with colleagues, learn new things and do procedures you were never allowed to do. You feel like you are now part of the health care system and not anymore just a nursing student trailing after her clinical instructor. You feel empowered, able and competent.

Add to that, you get to help people in one of the worst days of their lives. You feel like you're doing something right and selfless, probably for the first time in yours.

But then weeks, months, even years pass. Hospitals after hospitals will accept but never seem to hire. The initial bliss of having something to do and somewhere to go gradually dies down replaced by fatigue, burn out and this vague feeling of uncertainty. What am I doing here? How long will this go on? What's in it for me?

You start to question your purpose in life. Do you really want to be a nurse? If there's a better opportunity somewhere else, one that does not involve being an RN, would you take it? Should you take it?

With the current condition of nurses in the country these days, are you really waiting for a better tomorrow, when tides change and employment will be available once again, or wasting your time and energy being voluntarily used by these multi-million institutions, all of which can't seemingly afford to hire you even though it is fairly obvious that they need more skilled manpower? In fair trade, what company in their right mind will pay for nurses if hundreds of others are willing to work for them for free?

I once read an article referring to nurses as heroes of the current generation. Then someone commented on how self-righteous that was to call one's own profession as heroic. He then pointed out that it is called a job and not some superhuman feat of self-sacrifice. 

I think, it could only be called a JOB if you're getting paid for what you are doing, and not the other way around. Caring for the sick is probably not as noble as dying in Bagumbayan for your own country but it has a degree of altruism not seen in just about anyone.

I think the majority of the population is too selfish, too human to spend their days and years serving humanity with not much in return.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

If you took up Nursing just because your parents says so or you envision yourself in the middle of  glitz and glamour, strutting the streets of L.A. or London without much effort to get there, then this profession is not for you. If you can't handle carrying out orders for the majority of your professional life and if the weight of lives on your shoulders seems too much to bear, then don't do it.

But if you got into this profession in your own free will, without the lure of gold coins and fancy lifestyle, if the universe of health care and medicine just inspires and amazes you, then please, for all our sakes, continue what you are doing now and show the world there are still people like you who was born to serve and make  this country, and eventually the world, a better, more caring place.

The OB Nurse

Volunteering in a tertiary government hospital in the OB-GYNE Ward will open one's eyes to the chaotic but endearing world of a woman's uterus and all the things connected with it. Oh, and babies, lots of babies. An OB nurse might not sound as hard core as, say, an ER or ICU nurse with their constant stab wounds, GSWs and Code Blues but it takes a special kind of health care practitioner to survive the OB floor. Believe me.

An OB nurse in a government hospital must always be on her toes. From the never-ending stream of mothers and their newborns coming in from the delivery room and operating room, it's easy to get lost in the chaos. (Really, in relation with the Dengue epidemic reaching record-breaking proportions, you would think pregnancy is communicable too.) She must have the strength and presence of mind to handle literally hundreds of patients, 2-4 patients per bed, who have just given birth to another human being a few hours ago or is gearing up for a major surgery later in the day. She must be willing to do hard work, lots of it, to get through the shift.

She must be understanding. Most of her patients are in pain, uncomfortable and with a crying, needy newborn in their arms. There are patients who request for painkillers right after you've already given it to them. There are those who complain of things, both real and imagined, and for a nurse who is currently catering to hundreds of bodies, it is sometimes exasperating to hear superficial concerns with no effect whatsoever to the patient's health and well-being. But empathize and look into those problems, she must.

An OB nurse must be tactful. It's not easy being around the smell of lochia and disinfectant combined all day long. The relentless crying of hundreds of babies just cannot be taken as music to the ears if heard on hours end and the sight of blood stains on gowns and bedsheets are not pretty to look at especially after one has reminded, even pleaded, for these mothers to please maintain proper hygiene while in the ward.

She must be non-judgmental. From mothers who already have ten children and counting but doesn't want to be ligated even though the family can barely pay for the hospital fees to 15-year-old teenage mothers who obviously have not planned having a baby this early in life, it's hard not to let personal prejudices come out and occupy one's thoughts. But still, she must treat each patient equally without discrimination nor malice.

Lastly, an OB nurse must have patience. From nagging relatives to patients who won't buy nor take prescribed medicine, one will encounter all kinds of people in the area. There are mothers who don't know what to do with their first-born to those who don't care if their baby falls off the bed or die of breast milk aspiration, these are the situations a nurse must be prepared to take care of.

The medications and interventions might be the same for most patients on the floor, but it's the stories and personalities one meets in the ward that makes each day interesting. Handling unique circumstances with grace and dignity while maintaining that of the patients is not an easy task but it is what truly makes a great OB-GYNE nurse.

QMMC Broadway Week

Our sophomore week was supposed to be spent monitoring Vital Signs, I & O, doing bedside care, sample chartings etc. But instead, in a twist of fate I still cannot explain but am eternally grateful for, we were thrust into the world of stage productions for an inter-department competition for the 57th Anniversary of QMMC. So instead of spending 8 hours in the ward in our clinical uniforms, our practices served as our duty hours and we were allowed to show up in civilian clothes to sing and dance all day long complete with free lunch and snacks. How fantastic was that?

Friday the 13th was the big day and although we didn't win and there were more than a few mishaps along the way, I still consider that day one of the best I've spent in the hospital. After the program, there were free food and a mini party people celebration thing in store for the employees and some lucky nursing students but we already left because we got a celebration of our own to do somewhere else. Two weeks in and I already got unforgettable moments locked up inside my brain and in Facebook albums. Wonderful.

Let me wrap this post up before this sounds like a reflection paper for a clinical rotation. Just one more thing, if somebody is doing an amateur production of Rent or Spring Awakening and is in need of extras or whatever, call me! I think I'm discovering a hidden passion for theatre arts.

The Blackout Diaries

Typhoon Basyang, even though old and just likes to tell stories in her spare time, has managed to rip off trees, cut off electricity, mobile communication, internet, cable TV and light rail transits' operation in just a few hours of heavy blowing. Okay, that doesn't sound right.

This is my story.

July 14, 2010

12:01 mn: Heard the wind whistling a ferocious tune outside. Lights went off. Knew it was going to be a long day.

8:14 am: Listened to AM radio. Heard Ted Failon flirt with Pinky Webb on DZMM. Funny.

8:16 am: Okay, this is getting a bit weird. Creepy, more like.

9:00 am: Boasted to 'Smart' relatives that Globe still has 2 bars of signal.

10:02 am: Thanked the heavens that cellphone and iPod is fully charged.

10:15 am: Pondered the irony that even though own cellphone battery is full, friends' mobile's are probably dead and on their gadget graves by now.

Slept.

2:46 pm: Cellphone cannot receive a single electron of reception. So much for Globe Pride. Phone with its almost full battery: useless.

3:20 pm: Played the recorder even if no proper pieces were available and haven't practiced for months. Used high pitched sound to irritate the neighbors.

4:15 pm: Played the guitar even though skill non-existent and said instrument was missing one string. Yet it still sounded better than the recorder.

5:00 pm: Houses two streets away in all directions from ours have electricity. What the fudge, Meralco?

6:30 pm: Watched TV Patrol from aunt's Chinaphone. Yay for smuggled gadgets from China!

8:03 pm: Realized how great the iPod Touch is as an ebook reader. Was able to read Hugh Laurie's The Gun Seller during blackout without the risk of burning book from the candle flame.

9:40 pm: Wondered why God did not create man with ability to fan oneself while sleeping.

10:00 pm-ish: Mosquito attack #2. Got up to get Electrical Badminton Racket of Mosquito Doom. Started swinging it around while half asleep. No satisfying mosquito pop-and-sizzle. Electrical  badminton out of charge. Crap.

July 15, 2010

1:00 am-ish: Woke up yet again. Suffocation related to lack of electric fan secondary to Meralco failure.

1:10 am-ish: Wanted to open the windows really badly but evil snake of Satan might slither in and kill me or demented mad man might shoot at me with equally evil gun and kill me. Or so my mom said.

4:30 am: Opened the windows. At least let me die comfortably.

8:00 am: Work. Office has electricity. Yes!

5:00 pm: Electricity is back! I wanted to give it a Welcome Back Hug but doing so is fatal. Internet, I've missed you.

IVT Training: More than just learning how to prick people correctly

After almost exactly a year after taking my Nursing Board Exam, I enrolled at an IVT Training at a hospital near our home. Yes, the perpetual laggard is a laggard no more. Almost all of my friends (those who are not stuck in a call center) have already undergone the said seminar and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel left behind. Plus, being able to initiate an IV line to a person an interesting skill to have, not to mention lifesaving. Plus plus, most hospitals require the green IV Therapist card given by ANSAP.

So anyways, in a nutshell, I thought the 3 day seminar will going to consist of various techniques and procedures on how to choose and hit the vein correctly. Also, I expected that we will be given tips on how to manage common complications in an IV line, how to be an IV guru, so on and so forth. In short, I thought the sacred secrets of IV initiation and management, things that were never shared with us when we were in college because it is reserved only for the worthy registered ones, will be imparted upon us. Heck, no.

Because of my wrong expectations, that I was a bit bored with the training. For a day and a half, things we already know were reiterated in the lecture like functions of fluid in the body etc. etc. I found myself more interested in the lecturer's personal tales in the hospital and tips on how to get a job and NOT volunteer. 95% of the participants are registered bums. Ouch.

2nd day was the demo day. I was further disappointed with it because (grouped into 12) we were the one tasked to perform the procedures and demo it to the whole class. I think it would be proper if the proctors did the demo themselves so that we could learn more from it rather than have us watch fellow participants who don't know half of what they are doing. Just my 2 cents. The preceptors did correct wrong techniques and after major tiptoeing and squeezing myself between other participants to get a better view I finally learned the proper steps on initiating an IV line and administering medication through Heparin-lock that I never got when I was in college.

3rd day was return demo day. It was hot (Air conditioning 'broken' for the third day. Boo.) and toxic but we all survived. My one-on-one I-prick-you-you-prick-me session was weird. The preceptor was exceedingly helpful that she was technically the one who managed to insert the catheter into the vein and not me. I still got a perfect score though but felt as if I was still inadequate to do the job right. I definitely need more practice. Any takers?

Completion duty to go and all I have to do is wait for my ANSAP card. Hopefully, my schedule will not interfere with my training schedule for another hospital. Feels awesome to be a nurse again.

My IELTS Experience: This blogger actually expected to FAIL (PART I)

Let me tell you one thing, I actually felt more apprehensive in taking this exam than when I was about to enter the high-mortality battlefield of the Nursing Licensure Exam. Because a) I love multiple choice type of tests and IELTS is not one of them and b) I tend to do horribly in interviews for some reason no matter how hard I try to prepare for said inescapable moment of doom.

That's why for this past year, I have been putting off this exam for the longest time, waiting for a recommended date by the guru of my review center to assure higher chances of passing. Unfortunately, those thumbs-up dates are commonly held in provinces and, more or less, I lost about 3 months waiting for an advisable date in Manila which I never got. If it wasn't for my beau who told me, like a bucket of cold water splashed on my face, that 1. "You are wasting time." and 2. "You are great, and I have no doubt that you will pass." that I finally applied and waited, like a prisoner waiting for her execution, for my exam.

It went like this:

My speaking test was scheduled the day before my written ones. I actually prefer it the other way around as not to feel hopeless and/or suicidal if ever the interview was disastrous, however, I had to conform to my schedule. I arrived at Taipan Place (Office of British Council Manila) an hour and a half before the time of my interview. I remembered that it was a non-working holiday (April 9) and there were only a few people coming and going through the building, all of which have to surrender an I.D. to the guard stationed at the lobby. Being a paranoid, I only brought my PRC ID (needed for the speaking exam), my cellphone and some pocket money because I know that bags are not allowed inside the interview rooms.

I told the guard that I did not have an extra ID. He gave me an irritated look and reluctantly gave me a pass saying that next time, I wouldn't be allowed to enter the building without one. I thanked him thinking "There won't be a next time." as I planned to pass the exam. I was ready and confident, at least at that moment in time. 

The British Council office was way too cheerful than I expected. I thought there would be formal looking lobby with formal looking sofas and business chairs and formal looking people clad in formal corporate attires but I was dead wrong. It was a medium sized room that reminded me of a preschool classroom minus the animal pictures and the alphabet charts. It brought me back to pre-elementary phase that I actually wanted to run around the place if the room wasn't filled with nervous energy that was almost tangible in the cold air-conditioned air.

After registering, the first thing I noticed is how diverse the people taking the exam are. I was used to the NLE scenario where almost every test taker was my age but this was definitely not the case with the IELTS exam. Next thing I saw was the name posted in one of the doors. It was the examiner's name and I almost cracked an all-knowing smile. I knew that name, and that name brought good news. I attended a seminar where we were briefed about most of the examiners conducting the test and I more or less have an idea who give good grades and who doesn't. This knowledge proved to be an asset that day.

So, I was relieved. Until the organizer started calling people to go 6 floors down for their interview. The image of smiles and sunshine suddenly vanished from my brain. So, there were other examiners. Silly me to think that all 20+ people in the room are going to be interviewed by one person.

I was mentally willing the assistants there to not call me and let me stay in the room where flowers and puppies reign but nooo, of course that didn't happen. After a few minutes, he called my name and instructed me to go down to the 4th floor of the building where other organizers are going to be waiting and assisting us.

The 2nd room resembled a spa. There was yellow lighting and rich mahogany wood all around the place. There were doors after doors with opaque glass windows that I almost mistook as those rooms people have facials in. Or massages with aromatherapy oils and rain forest music. I had a mental image that I was about to get a facial but quickly pushed it aside. Must stick to gameplan.

After taking a seat, I immediately noticed the names posted on the doors. From where I was sitting, I can only see and read 3 names although I was pretty sure there were at least 7 of them there. One of the 3 visible names leaped out from the rest. It was "the" name. "The" examiner. The one test takers would kill for if they're really desperate to pass the exam.

I distinctly remember Sir Ervin saying "Kung siya ang examiner mo, anak ka ng Diyos!" and we all laughed, silently wishing that we were to be that lucky. She was known to coach examinees when they were getting lost and, although she's not generous when it comes to giving grades (Ceiling Grade of 7.5) she is very lenient and gives lots of passing scores. Let's call her Ma'am Glee.

I eyed her door enviously hearing muffled noises in the background. The organizer was telling an interviewee that so and so is his examiner. After less than 2 minutes, although it felt like forever, the assistant came up to me, asked for my I.D., verified my identity on her list and briefed me on my interview. She said:

"Ma'am, your examiner is Ma'am Glee. She will call you when she's ready."

And I was like, "Oh my Obama, anak ako ng Diyos!"

But that was where the ecstasy ended.

I entered the interview room so carefully I could make an Akyat Bahay proud. The truth was, I wasn't nervous, more like detached. This happens every time I get interviewed. That out-of-body experience where there is only void where anxiety and pressure should be. And no, it's not a good thing.

She looked more stern than I expected but she did smile and tried to put me at ease with her friendly tone of voice. She asked for my I.D. and I gave it to her. She gave it back and started reading questions about myself that constitutes Part 1 of the speaking Exam.

1st Question went something like, do you live in a house or a flat? I answered house but before I could speak another word she asked another one. What do you like about your house? This is where the disaster started. My first answer was technically wrong so she prodded "No, your house." and then I realized that she was referring to the structural aspects of the building. And yet, before I knew it, I was at a loss for words. My brain, like it did before and the time after that, decided to go all haywire on me at the time I need it to function properly and I was left like a blubbering idiot.

The next questions were about movies and sports which I answered pretty decently, I admit. Then came Task 2.

My Task 2 was about a city that I once lived in. It was infuriating because back when I was reviewing, it was one of those topics that come up over and over again in the speaking topic handouts. Of course I ignored the one question that I happen to get.

I think I said the same thing over and over again that 2 minutes of non-stop speaking. I could be pretty talkative if I'm comfortable and interested with what I'm talking about but with such mundane topic I am not prepared of, words and ideas were hard to come by.

Task 3 (Abstract Ideas) was more about cities. Oh the joy. No, not really. What are the advantages of living in a city? Compare city living and living in the province, or something like that. I have ideas, but in the end, I felt as if I could have said more, stuttered less.

I noticed that at the last question, although I didn't know it was the last, just when I was running out of words, she gently concluded the interview saying that that is the end of the speaking exam. She didn't congratulate me or anything, just smiled courteously. I said thanks and went out the room, feeling dejected and unbelievably idiotic. I knew I could have done better. I walked (wearing Torture Shoes I might add) to Megamall where I took an FX home.

It took me the rest of the evening to get over the, in my opinion, failed interview. I held on to the knowledge that Ma'am Glee was my examiner and she will bring forth the power of leniency and give me my much needed 7 for my speaking test.  It's either 7 or retake. The thought filled me with dread and I remembered Manong Guard  scolding me at the lobby. I went home thinking that there might actually be a next time.

Rotating Scheduled Brownouts in Metro Manila and Rizal

Rotating brownouts hit Metro Manila

MANILA – Distribution utility Manila Electric Company (Meralco) said that it cannot determine until when rotating brownouts being implemented in wide part of Metro Manila will end.A fire affected one of the four 300 MVA transformers in the sub-station in Taytay, Rizal Wednesday night triggering the tripping off of the other transformers and the 115-kiloVolt lines of the Meralco sub-sector areas.It took firemen almost an hour to control the blaze.Authorities also had to use firefighting chemicals and retardants since the transformer reportedly contained oil.The fire was declared under control around 10:30 p.m.

The other transformer units available at the substation have also been cut off from the system because its control cables have been affected by the fire incident.

The affected transformer supplies power to 11 Meralco substations that service eastern Metro Manila.

Meralco officials said close to a million households are now suffering the three-hour rotating brownouts as a measure to mitigate a more massive, widespread power interruption caused by the transmission trouble at the National Grid Corporation of the Philippines' (NGCP) Dolores substation in Taytay, Rizal.

These brownouts affect areas in the eastern part of its franchise.

Meralco further said had the manual load dropping (MLD) not been imposed to, the power outage would have been more massive and may have resulted to a "system wide blackout."

The company could not say up to when the interruptions would be implemented, saying that “it all depends on the resolution of the transmission problem of the NGCP.”

The series of power outages began late Wednesday night in several parts of Metro Manila and Rizal after power was cut off to 13 Meralco substations including those situated in St. Anthony, Manggahan, Parang, Masinag, Marikina, Santolan, Cainta, Shangri-la, Mandaluyong, Hillcrest, Dolores, Cubao bank no. 2, and New Teresa.

This resulted to outages in various portions of Mandaluyong, Pasig, Marikina, Taguig; parts of Quezon City including Cubao.

Outages were also experienced in Cainta, Angono, Taytay, Binangonan, Antipolo, San Mateo and Montalban.

As of 11:40 p.m. Wednesday, power has already been restored to most of the affected areas after Meralco opted to shift load or transfer sourced power to operational substations.

Only Dolores 44 XM and portions of Dolores 47 XM were not restored.

At 6:39 a.m. Thursday, Meralco resorted to MLD affecting circuits served by Cubao and Marikina substations in order to ease the critical loading of Araneta-Kamuning 115 kV line.

Three-hour rotating brownouts may also be implemented Friday during noon-peak and three hours during the evening-peak periods.

Meralco though is doing its best to shorten the duration of the brownouts.

Energy Secretary Angelo T. Reyes ordered to fast track the repairs to unburden consumers suffering and experiencing the three hour rotating brownouts.

“I am confident that Meralco and NGCP will be able to re-establish connection of power in the areas and this should be done immediately. Restoring power will restore balance in those areas,” Reyes said.

Soonest possible time

Earlier, the NGCP, operator of the country’s transmission system, assured that supply of power in the eastern part of Metro Manila will be restored the soonest possible time.

Meralco had warned residents of eastern Metro Manila and Rizal province to brace for rotating brownouts ranging from three to four hours.

The warning came after Wednesday’s incident where a transformer of the NGCP in Taytay town was damaged.

Pasig, Mandaluyong, Marikina Quezon City and parts of Rizal including Cainta, Angono, Taytay, Binangonan, and Antipolo City went out of power supply around 9 p.m. Wednesday, minutes after Dolores substation of NGCP caught fire.

Meralco has at least five 115-kiloVolt lines that draw power from the Dolores substation.

Because of the power shutdown, Meralco is implementing a three-hour rotating brownout in the affected areas.

Meralco external communications manager Joe Zaldarriaga said the power interruptions will be implemented to minimize the disruptions in the affected areas such as Mandaluyong, Marikina, Pasig, San Juan, Quezon City, and Rizal province.

“We are implementing rotating brownouts to accommodate those affected (by Wednesday’s incident) … we appeal for understanding.”

Repairs, rehabilitation

But Ma. Cristina Cabalhin, head of NGCP’s corporate communications, said repairs and rehabilitation of the damaged transformers at its Dolores substation in Taytay, Rizal now are ongoing.

NGCP started conducting the requisite system test and one transformer unit “could be restored tonight,” she added.

“If we could restore one transformer it is likely that the rotating brownouts will be reduced,” Cabalhin said over a telephone interview.

Meralco said it will implement rotating brownouts lasting three hours maximum twice a day in its franchise area in Metro Manila while the transformers are not yet available.

As of 9:30 a.m. Thursday, 180 megawatts of power load have already been dropped from the Luzon grid.

To recall, Meralco said there are still 41,000 of their clients who remain without power due to Typhoon Ondoy which hit the country last month.

Areas with no power due to floodwaters include parts of Marikina, Cainta, Pasig, Taguig and parts of Binan, and Muntilupa.

NGCP meanwhile failed to give any timeframe on the completion of the rehabilitation and repairs of the Dolores substation.

“We really do not know when we could complete it (the repair) but we hope to do it soon,” the NCGP official said.

Complete list of rotating brownouts

Source: http://www.sunstar.com.ph/network/rotating-brownouts-hit-metro-manila

Grr. Fate is playing a cruel joke on us Ondoy survivors. And it's not funny.

Ondoy's Wrath Part II: Ghost Town

DAY 2 Sept. 27, 2009 (Sunday)

Having had a bad night's rest because of the unfavorable circumstances that we had to live through for the night, the only thing I want to do the next morning was to curl up in my bed and sleep. Which proved to be impossible because upon opening the front door, what greeted us was 1 inch thick mud covering the entire floor and we had to mud skate our way inside because it was so slippery. My ice skating teacher would've been proud.

Flood water still ankle deep.

Compared to our neighbors, our house was the way we left it. No refrigerator, sala set and dining table floated around the place and nearly all our appliances survived potential drowning. I did find out, however, that I forgot to salvage my high school memoirs from its bottom shelf so now my yearbook and handwritten short stories etc. are all wet and muddy. :( Add to that, the tremendous amount of work to be done to clean up our house made me weak in the knees.

No choice but to walk in the muddy water.

Because nobody was expected to do it but me, I started mopping a years worth of mop work. And I hate mopping. At first it seemed as if I was getting nowhere but after many hours and cycles of repetitive work which I absolutely dislike, our floor finally resembled a floor and not forest ground.

At about 5pm, my tita was still stranded somewhere in Junction (after a day and a half) and my tito started to have stomachaches and chest pains and we needed to buy medicine. Flood in our street had already subsided and somebody said that Junction was already water free so my Mom and Grandma decided to throw me and Tito in a wild goose chase for medicine and my tita with the sun already setting and no electricity anywhere nor flashlights.

I knew it was a bad idea from the start but everyone insisted, so I was forced to accompany my tito in a quest for an open Mercury Drug and my aunt. Streets near ours were already flood free but as we neared our subdivision's gate, water went as high as waist deep and we waded through it because my tito kept saying, "Dito lang yan, pagdating sa labas wala na yan, sa Junction wala na daw baha e..", even though I really wanted to head back, walk barefooted in my newly mopped floor and sleep in my comfy bed. Instead, we were half walking, half swimming in mudder water in pitch black darkness with only the moonlight to show us the way.

By the entrance of our subdivision, there is a gasoline station along the main road going to Junction and Sta. Lucia Mall. And I thought that when we get there, we would be greeted with lights and signs of civilization. What we saw gave me the chills.

Everything was dead. There were no signs, whatsoever, of life except for the few people walking in the middle of the highway going both ways. The warm light that I thought would be coming from the gas stop and the hi-way lights were turned off because the streets were still flooded with knee deep water.

I really wanted to go home at that point but since we've already walked and waded for so long and so far, we decided to walk further to Junction. Thank Obama there were people who were also braving the dark and creepy flood water or else I would've thought we were in a twisted episode of The Twilight Zone.

I will never forget the instance where we walked past the gates of Gruar I and II subdivisions. There were rumors that a lot of people died in those places because of the sudden rise of water and the shanty-ish houses occupying the said place. The eerily shadowed entrance of the village was enough to give me goosebumps but what really scared me off was the smell. It smelled of decay and death. I was so afraid that my legs blindly walking through the water would catch an arm or something. Thankfully, it didn't and after that, water started to subside as we reach Junction.

So the rumors were right. Junction was flood-less. Technically. They didn't mention how flooded it was still in all the streets leading to it.

The epicenter of Cainta, a once busy bustling intersection with roads leading to Ortigas Extension, Marcos Hi-Way, Cainta "Bayan" and Taytay looked like an industrial graveyard that night. No lights were on, no cars nor buses passing through, no life. And surprise surprise, Mercury Drug was also wiped out by the flood. So, no medicine.

To add salt to the gaping wound that was the uselessness of our midnight adventure, I could not, for the love of Obama, contact my missing tita. Her last text said that they were staying outside Robinson's Mall right across Mercury Drug (because they were rudely "asked" to exit the said mall in the middle of the storm) but she was not there. There were only a few people milling around the place and most of them looked sinister. In fact, on our way to the drug store, I saw some guy in a black leather jacket looting bread and Obama knows what from an abandoned Buy 1 Take 1 Burger stand.

At the same time, my tito decided to thicken the plot by saying that his chest hurt and that he could walk no more.

In front of Mercury Drug were couple of guys selling candies and crackers. My tito bought all the crackers he could find and sat on an empty monoblock chair to eat. I started texting my Mom and another Tita in panic mode, fearing it would be the last time I would get to use my phone. Every one of the people around us looked like robbers and drug addicts. And as if to prove my point, minutes later, some man (who I was 90% sure was crazy in the head) started talking to us and interviewing my tito on why he was sitting in his chair. My tito said he has hypertension and needed to rest and Loopness started talking about how doctors were idiots and that he defied all sickness without ever taking any medicine.

My other tita, in Ilo-Ilo, replied to my text plea, and said that my missing tita texted her and said that they went to Tuhog Tsibog etc., a restaurant by Park Place entrance, a subdivision walking distance from Junction. I said to my tito that we should go there to check. He refused to do so and wanted to walk back to our subdivision and seek shelter from his friend (who lives near our subdivision gates) so he could rest.

I started fuming inside. Pano naman ako? I cleaned our house all day so I could be mud free for the remainder of the night and sleep soundly, now he wanted to spend the night in the house of some friend? I really wanted to abandon him at that moment and head on to my friend/boyfriend's house but, fortunately, a plot twist came about.

Who knew talking with Loopness was worth something? My tito mentioned that if some kind of ride, may it be tricycle, pedicab, anything, was available, we would gladly pay for it so we could get back to our subdivision without walking. In the end, after a few minutes, 2 guys with a padyak with no seats surfaced. Ready to serve for P300. We jumped at the deal despite the horrific fee.

With the pedicab at our disposal, my tito asked if we could pass by Park Place to see if tita was still there. The 2 guys manning the pedicab surprisingly agreed.

When we arrived in Tuhog Tsibog, the open area of the restaurant/bar was barricaded with metal fences. Inside was darkness and more darkness. I could not see a thing and it was easily deductible that the place was devoid of people except for some men trying to start a 10 wheeler truck which got stranded in the middle of the road. In a twist of fate that made me believe in the power of miracles, just when I was about to leave because it seemed as if no one was there, something, or someone moved in the darkness and I saw a shadow stand up. Without thinking or seeing anything but shadow, I yelled, "Tita!". Ever so slowly, someone walked to me and, lo and behold, it was my missing tita.

Turned out, she was still with an officemate so the 4 of us crammed our way into the pedicab and went on another adventure back home. And even though it was still a long way back and we still had to wade through waist deep water for the second time, I didn't notice the time nor how tired I was because I was just so glad we're on our way back home and our peculiar padyak journey was filled with stories and various screams of

"Wag jan may manhole jan! Kaliwa kaliwa!"

and

"Oh! Kanal! Kanal! Sa gitna lang!".

Tito and I left our house at about 5PM. All 4 of us arrived at about 10PM. That was one of the longest and most unforgettable 4 hours of my life. And it made me believe more in miracles especially after sharing stories, we found out that the only reason tita stood up from her slumber in the Tuhog Tsibog etc. and allowed me to see her shadow and call out was that she felt cold and not because she saw me. If she hadn't stood up, if Loopness hadn't arrived and chatted away, if tito didn't have the stomach aches, we would not have this happy ending.

And that is nothing short of a miracle.

Ondoy's Wrath (Ketsana) Part I

September 29, 2009 Tuesday

I am sitting in a wasteland as I am writing this on a pocket notebook with the only pen I could find (which happened to be a violet inked one). There is still no electricity, no communication with the outside world, running water is weak and traces of mud still occupies the corners of our house, a trademark reminder of the past days which rendered our town horror-struck and clinging for its life. Streets are still covered with drying remnants of those days while the sun is mocking us with its sun-shiney brightness. This is Day 4.


DAY 1 Sept. 26, 2009 (Saturday)

If you had told me this would be the day our belongings would half half-drown and we would have to sleep in our upstairs warehouse with the stocks, our neighbors and various pet dogs in a plywood covered with curtains and throw pillows, I would not have believed you.

We, Cainta-enos, are used to floods. Being a catch-basin of flood water coming from Antipolo and Taytay, houses are built in high grounds and cars are parked in high parking spaces and gasoline stations way before the storm as a common precautionary act. But no matter how water-savvy you are, nothing could have prepared anybody for that day.

Brown water was already past the gutter mark as I woke up that Saturday morning. I ate spaghetti as my Mom and I chatted casually about the storm and how my aunt was still stuck in our office warehouse near Junction. We were unconcerned about the rising water because never, in our 9 years of living here, did it reach our house, which was built a good 2-2.5 meters above the sidewalk, far higher than our neighbors.

I called my grandma to check how she was and if she needed help. She was already trying to put stuff in higher places and told me she didn't know how to disconnect my aunt's computer so I decided to put on my contact lenses and help. I was supposed to go there the normal way, walk down the street to their door, but the knee high current was way too strong so we decided to do an over-the-bakod stunt with a small chair and a ladder.

I concentrated on the mystic knots of the cords and cables of the PC while grandma was running around the place. 5 minutes later, water was already inside the house rising with frightening speed. I barely had time to salvage the CPU. 30 minutes later, the water had already reached thigh area and we were still scrambling to get things on higher ground. I kept telling her to evacuate already to our house but my grandma insisted to stay a bit longer. Minutes later, I heard my mom yelling that our house were nearing flood water wipeout and I needed to come home immediately.

Me and grandma did the over-the-bakot stunt and we scrambled to put important things in higher places and turn off the main power switch to avoid electrocution. We managed to lift the washing machine to the sink and the refrigerator up dining chairs.

Again, minutes later, flood water was inside the house and we had to evacuate to our warehouse upstairs. Armed with food, blankets and pillows, we tried to settle in our inhabitable upstairs landing. It was a bodega for our stocks and was not built for human habitation. While transferring things upstairs, my grandma saw our neighbors with nowhere to go because they don't have a second floor so we invited them to seek shelter with us.

View of our street at the peak of the storm.

Another angle featuring our drowning car with its lights automatically blinking as if asking for help.

It was like a movie in the making. The current was so strong that they had to tie a rope from their house to ours just to swim through. Everyone was soaking wet and shivering from the cold. Thankfully, we have lots of towels, bed sheets, canned goods and water stored so we made it through the night sleeping on plywoods on the floor. I had a horrible night because the dogs kept barking and I had to retie my pet Wuffy 5x I think because he kept getting out of his collar and scaring other people.

The next day, people were up before dawn even though we can't do anything before sunrise because there was no electricity and you really can't see anything. What greeted us that morning was gutter level flood water and a house full of slippery mud.

It was everywhere. It's like Mother Nature pooped on us all. Or gave us tons load of melted chocolate that smells funky. Whichever you prefer.

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