Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Sick Children

I remember how much I would appreciate the last few minutes of "Doogie Howser, M.D." when Doogie would be seated at his PC recalling/writing down the day's lessons. It was something I wanted to do (Maintaining a diary, that is. I did want to be a doctor also, but God had other plans for me.) and well, up to now, have yet to be successful in. I have a few diaries sitting in my closet with 2 or 3 entries each, but that's about it. I even tried to start a diary together with my ex-boyfriend (now my hÜbby), however, it didn't work out. My hubby prefers drawing over writing so his entries contained more illustrations than words. I really hope that it would be different that I am older (and wiser, perhaps). hehehe.

I hosted the 10th Nephrology Camp at the Philippine Children's Medical Center (PCMC) yesterday afternoon. It was a lot of fÜn!

I remember how I used to hate having to go to PCMC for my MA practicum. After work, I would drive from CCE (Center for Childhood Education) to PCMC crying. It was quite a struggle for me since I was coming from work where I taught happy, healthy, well-provided for children. Then in the afternoon, I would have to cater to the emotional needs of underpriviledged, chronically-ill children and their parents. I was miserable and bitter. In fact, there was a time that I simply didn't want to go anymore but a co-teacher of mine wouldn't hear of it. She made sure to ride with me going there, in fact, I think she even accompanied me once or twice into the hospital. She was God sent! It was then that I came to realize that I was bitter because I felt that there was so much that I couldn't do for the children and their families. What I had failed to acknowledge was the fact that my mere presence was enough for them. There were several kids who would request for me to be at their bedside when they'd have to undergo chemotherapy or when bone marrow had to be extracted from their hipbone. Ugh! But I was there for them to hold their hand, to comfort make things a little better. I even had a teenager die on me and I had to be there for her mother. It was quite an experience. It has kept me grounded.

I relate so much better now with the kids and their parents. Just one call from ate Beth of the Special Activities Office of PCMC and I'm there. I hope to be able to go there on a regular basis again. Come to think of it, I didn't do much yesterday, I simply held some hands, hugged some children and talked to a few parents and a grandparent. I was just there for them...and they were there for me, too.