Inside the OR: On Amputations, Colossal Pimples and Bullet Trajectory 0 comments

There will always be stories that will follow us. From something we've read, watched on the news, gossiped from that overly chatty friend or witnessed with our own eyes. The thing about being an operating room nurse is that the events we witness everyday, and is considered as norm (even downright boring as I stare into my 6th Caesarian Section in an 8-hour graveyard shift) are the ones most people cringe and gasp upon. 

But then, at times, stories will come swinging through the semi-sterile double doors that even the most experienced of us will remember.

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A 20-something year old just lost his leg the day I was complaining about how I had no time to get a pedicure. A victim of a construction freak accident, his post-adolescent leg was permanently detached from his body. Now, we've seen countless of below-the-knee amputations and once we've gotten over the crude bone sawing, it was not a big deal. But the devastating and instantaneous effect of a single tragic event followed me the whole day from the moment I transferred out the patient to the ward and had to explain to the receiving nurse why a handful of relatives were crying over a BKA. The patient, himself, was in silent tears as he stared at the ceiling, waiting for his stretcher to be wheeled beside the ward bed, probably wondering the future that lays before him.

We've all been there. Thinking that something (or someone) will be with us until the end of our selfish existence, always available and conveniently at an arm's length away. Until they're not. And then the world feels like it has stopped turning as we stand, shell-shocked. I've pictured this in countless scenarios, but never one starring a body part. I guess we are all under the wrong impression that anything we are born with will stay with us to the grave.

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Burn patients. I would always cringe internally whenever I see and care for one. Not because I was repulsed by their appearance, with their scorched flaky skin that needs to be scrubbed off like a wood furniture in need of sandpaper, or the smell of burnt flesh, cloying in the air even after the procedure is done. I recoil on the inside because I could not fathom the pain, the prolonged discomfort and the life changing effects of deformity brought upon by seconds of misfortune.

Then I remember the time I looked in the mirror and saw a colossal pimple right at the center of my nose, red and angry at the world. Everyone at work noticed and made me feel like the most dermatologically ill-fated person in the country with stubborn pores rallying against me. Curse those blemish free goddesses with clear radiant skin and perfect bodies. Why can't I look like them? It turns out, luck was still on my side. Very much so.

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Running. When people inside the operating room are running, you know there are urgent matters need to be attended to. When people inside the operating room are running with a patient on a stretcher on tow, you know it's a matter of life and death.

We didn't even have time to properly set up a complete explore laparotomy / thoracotomy set when the patient came rushing in from the hospital corridor one minute after a hurried phone call from the emergency room. Middle adult male, gunshot wound through the chest. Someone continued CPR, another ran for the e-cart and ampules of Epinephrine. He was fluidly transferred to the OR table and surgery started immediately amidst the systematic chaos.

It only took less than half an hour before the surgeon proclaimed the inevitable and death certificates were arranged.

A father of children, a husband to a wife, a son to a mother. He was watching TV in their apartment's living room when hit by a stray bullet from a domestic fight near their home. Intraoperative findings revealed that the bullet tore through two of the chambers of his heart, obliterating any chances of survival.

I could hear his wife's agonized cry from outside of the operating room complex as I concentrated on the novel that was my nurse's notes. Too many thoughts poured through my mind. What a shock it must have been to find a loved one dying in the sanctuary of your own home. And what, in this world of unexplained phenomena, willed a stray bullet straight through a man's heart?

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It's a common quote: "I cried because I have no shoes, until I saw a man with no feet." We understand what it means, hell, we've read it on Facebook with matching depressing black and white photo of a pitiful looking man looking sullen. Some even clicked "Like".

And yet, do we really remember, as we whine about unreliable WiFi signal and complain about the bipolar weather? They say "Time is gold" and no one has ever really contested that fact, and yet, why are we throwing away valuable stones by the kilo by spending hours on Facebook and obsessing about how everyone's life is better than ours? Or sticking to mindless, purposeless routines because society tells us to do so, all the while forgetting to live our life, the life we truly want to live?

Because, whatever we are doing at this very moment, what makes us so sure that a bullet is not on its way?

Top 12 Signs You Are An Operating Room (OR) Nurse 0 comments

12. You have dry hands and you fear imminent varicose veins eruption in the very near future.

11. You can sleep while standing up then snap awake at a sound of an instrument's name being called.

10. You already have glove and suture brand preferences. (Mine's Gammex 6 1/2 Powder Free for toxic cases. Catgut, most reliabe Chromic we've used!)

9. "Mayo" is not a condiment, as "Army Navy" is not a burger joint nor a specialized government unit.

8. The sequence"OS, OS, Knife, Kelly, Kelly, Army Navy, Mayo.." means something to you.

7. You like suctioning blood clots. It's fun. Seriously.

6. You have touched / poked with a gloved finger a patient's intestine at one time or another (with the surgeon's permission) just for the experience of it.

5. You have witnessed how the weirdest things get stuck in people's orifices. 

4. You know and have experienced the TRUE meaning of "an itch that can't be scratched".

3. You're used to seeing people naked and has seen private parts of all shapes, colors and sizes.

2. The phrases "tusok o patong?", "lunok laway" and "labas dila" don't sound awkward at all.

...and the top sign you are an operating room nurse:

1. You have seen both the pinnacle of human stupidity (with some of the weirdest clients you've catered to) and mortal ingenuity (from the health care providers you have worked with) with each case that has come your way. And, personally, that is one of the reasons that make this profession a cut above the rest.

Inside the Operating Room: An Introduction 2 comments

Blood. There is blood everywhere. On the floor, pooling in basins, dripping from sponges and coating once glimmering stainless steel instruments. Smoke lazily floats up the room as the smell of burning flesh lingers in the air, cloying, at times suffocating. A monitor is beeping incessantly at one corner of the room, wires and cables extending from its body like a robotic creature happily entangling its prey. 

The room is filled with aliens. Or maybe not, but they sure look like extraterrestrial beings. Or maybe those specialists who cater to ones. All suited up, capped and masked, with rubberized hands. They talk with invisible mouths, their eyes being the only windows to their souls. Assuming each of them has one.

And in the middle, a body. Lying down, immobile and strapped up. A tube protruding from its mouth, and its intestine poking out from its torso. A plastic suction tube held by one of those rubber hands slurps out excess fluid as a variety of metal clamps stick out from the abdominal hole like some grotesque part of a Saw torture chamber.

Buzz. Smoke. Clamp. Tie. Suture.

Stitch, stitch, stitch.

The scene may seem like an empty mechanical show of technical procedures, but behind every needle bite is a disease and behind every disease is a person, and behind every person is a story. 

These are the stories that I would never have witnessed anywhere else. 

This familiar shiny hallway and these tiled rooms have witnessed much of people's weaknesses, but also humanity's unwavering strength, more than any other places in the world. To be a spectator a midst all the action, suspense, drama and comedy have undoubtedly shaped me more than I can explain and have made me view things in a different lense. Things may not appear brighter nor more colorful, but they do extract sense and importance in this world governed by misplaced priorities and the pursuit of temporary bliss.

Future related posts in this series will tell stories not my own, but of life's complexities that only presents itself in the most trying of times. No paper-pushing routine job, even the highest paid ones, could mirror this front-seat view on the unadulterated, barefaced truths of our existence. And this is why I wouldn't exchange this experience for the glitz of a more glamorous job.

So, who am I?

I am an OR Nurse. And I have stories to tell.

Scrub Suits and Sogo: How I Survived the "Habagat" Great Flood 5 comments

Marikina River 2 days post Habagat

Okay, so let's pretend it's still August and I haven't completely abandoned this blog for more than a month now. As you get your bearings on what month this is supposed to be, I will also pretend that I'm working on my beloved 14" Lenovo Ideapad laptop with his wonderful clicky keyboard and not on my sister's 11" netbook with horrible Asus cramped keys. See, my ever so loyal laptop have been struck down with a nasty bug that has rendered him useless especially for type-heavy functions like writing this post. No virus scan / anti-malware program have detected anything so I now have to wipe these sentimental tears off my face and reformat the entire thing and start from scratch. So help me God.

Anyway, back to the Great Flood that has yet again brought Metro Manila to a standstill. 

MONDAY

I was having my graveyard duty (10PM-6AM) at the hospital the night of August 6, 2012. There was already gutter deep flood on my way out of our subdivision but never did I expect the rain to continue like it was the biblical times all over again. Throughout the shift we could hear the relentless heavy downpour from outside and I already got the feeling that I won't be able to go home the next day since we admittedly live in the freaking flood capital of the East.

TUESDAY

Come endorsement time, our main concern was that will there be nurses to endorse to. Amazingly almost all of them made it to the hospital, wet trousers and all. C'mon, a round of applause, people. These were the ones who have braved the floods just to see to it that patients are taken care of. Not all wards were that fortunate though. I know of some nurses who had to extend their shift to 16 straight hours. All in the name of health care, of course. 

All of the elective cases in the OR have been deferred because of the rains and flooding so it was a happy day for the morning shift. Us, night shift nurses, were a different story. Numerous calls later from home and a glance at local morning news (Marikina River drowning everything in sight!), it was obvious that there was no way any of us will be able to get home without being stranded somewhere. We then decided to just stay in the hospital until our next graveyard shift and try to get home the next day.

After spending some time in a local carinderia in front of the hospital for breakfast and some news-watching and shopping for toiletries and other essentials at the local market we went back to the hospital to get some much needed rest. Believe me when I say that the extra scrub suits in the hospital were life savers and having 2 uniforms (white and our own scrubs) were an unbelievable advantage that time. Without these extra clothes, we would be stuck with a single uniform all throughout our stranded period. Little did I know that for me, it would mean most of the rest of the week.

WEDNESDAY

Another 10-6 shift has ended. Floods have subsided in most areas and rains have stopped in the metro. All my shift-mates / stranded-mates have decided that they will take the risk of acquiring Leptospirosis just to get home. I was no exception. I disregarded the warnings from home that the main roads and more importantly, subdivision entrances were still impassable. Lagpas Tao / Hanggang Dibdib type of impassable. But I persisted.

Needless to say, I got as far as the junction in the Sta. Lucia Mall / Tropical Hut intersection. All the roads from there on were flooded. The picture above was the entrance road to Marikina. And even those going to Antipolo/Cogeo area were knee deep in water. And do I even need to mention the Waterworld that is Cainta?

With nowhere to go, I waited near the entrance of Sta. Lucia East Grand Mall hoping to be able to crash in an air-conditioned restaurant while waiting for the floods to subside. Plus, I really needed to buy a contact lense case for my lenses which I've been wearing for more than 48 hours. I wasn't able to sleep at all in the hospital because of them. I managed to soak them in sterile water for a couple of hours but since I didn't have my glasses with me, I had to put them back on because I couldn't really see anything without them.

It was already past 11 AM and the mall was still closed. They opened it a few minutes later but when I entered, there was almost no customers and half of the shops were still locked up. Thank heavens Executive Optical opened that day.

Since I already have a case and solution for my contact lenses and could finally sleep without worrying of being forever blind upon waking up, after calling home and determining that the flood was not going down any time soon, we decided that it's better if I just checked-in in the friendly neighborhood hotel standing conspicuously in front of the mall in its red and yellow glory. The Sogo Hotel.

Any concern of mine regarding the, uhm, reputation of the said hotel chain evaporated the second I stepped inside the lobby. There were people, and surprisingly, kids everywhere. Throngs of families milled around the place watching the news on the large screen at the lobby, looking up at the sky for signs of more rain and talking on cellphones asking if they could already make their way home. It was like an Upper-Middle Class Evacuation Center. With entrance fees, of course.

After a few minutes of waiting, I fortunately got the cheapest room available. To my handy dandy credit card, I'm sorry I ever doubted your usefulness. Without you I would be stuck in the streets like The Script's The Man that Can't Be Moved, although in a sleepier and less emo version. The room was not bad at all, fairly clean, although I would drop dead before I step inside the bathroom without slippers on. After 48 hours of no lasting sleep, the huge bed was heaven on earth.

I woke up at around 5PM, officially famished for being NPO (nurse's fancy way of saying no food nor drinks) since that morning's breakfast. After calling home and discovering that I had no choice but to extend my stay in the hotel to overnight since roads were still impassable, I decided to go back and shop for food and additional clothes at the mall. Good thing I went there early because minutes later, the sky was again in a grumpy mood and stores left and right were closing early in fear of another bout of heavy rains. 

I tried to look for restaurants that would accept credit card because I was already running low on cash but there was none so I had to spend my last remaining hundreds for a cheeseburger value meal and ate it back at my room. All in all, it was not a bad existence. It definitely could have been worse. I was all alone and couldn't get home but I was safely inside a hotel room with a dependable cable tv, bathroom with hot shower, a/c unit and that trademark red light which made me sleepy for some reason. This was being stranded in style.

THURSDAY

Woke up to the sound of my cellphone ringing bearing the news that the roads were still flooded but can now be treaded without drowning even if one does not know how to swim. There were also jeepneys already who were having trips up to the flooded areas so people didn't have to walk all the way, just from those places where only the most enduring of legs and Islander slippers would survive. It was time to go home.

It was 3 days after the climax of the torrential rains but still the flood in our area was still this prevalent. I came prepared with my rolled up pajama-ish scrub suit bottom, black shirt and scrunched up hair ready for battle. We in the East were so used to floods like these it was like a kamot-ulo moment instead of a devastating terrifying one to be honest.

Posh executive subdivision submerged in water.

Start of our exodus back home.

Starting from this point, we needed to embrace the Leptospirosis and feel the muddy water and unidentified floating debris enveloping our legs. Being 5'5, the water reached just below buttocks area, still unbelievably high three days after the rain. And this was on the main roads. The subdivisions were no doubt much worse.

To make the long story short, after treading thigh deep flood, getting in a dump truck full of stranded residents looking for an easier way home, walking again a short distance to our subdivision  and riding a pedicab worth 40 php per person because of the still chest deep floods, at around 12:45PM, after 4 unbelievable days, I was home.

I, literally, hugged our gate. 

The Test You Begged To Fail 6 comments

It's the "positive" result most people would have heart attacks over.

It starts with that dreadful feeling of a missed period after an inappropriately timed unprotected action. You try to go on your routine ways but the thought haunts you. You delay the errand of buying a pregnancy test kit as long as your curiosity can withstand but then succumb to your neuroses a few hours later. You purchase the blue box as inconspicuously as possible but then the old holier-than-thou woman behind you on the counter notices and gives you the dirty eye. You come home feeling like your bag is armed with explosives. In the middle of the night, when everybody else is asleep, you brace yourself. You take a deep breath... and pee.

Minutes later, you find out that your life will never be the same again.

Of all the tests in your life, this is probably the only one you have prayed and begged to fail. But it seems like fate has a different plan for you or maybe the Powers That Be chose you as the reluctant center of their cruel game. Either way, the two red lines on that blasted stick stare back at you mockingly. Ha! This is what you get for pretending to be a star of a Nicholas Sparks novel turned movie, the urine-drenched lines taunt.

How could this happen? You're so young, with your whole life ahead of you and yet there's suddenly this parasite in your body feeding off of your blood, hopes and dreams. You still plan to do so much more with your supposedly carefree years. Spend the entire night drinking at Distillery until dawn breaks, go trekking at Mt. Pinatubo or island hopping in Anawangin, visit Boracay and flaunt that bikini so you can post lomofied version of the pictures to Facebook. How are you supposed to do all these when there's another human being that's supposed to come out of you nine months from now and demand things like milk, clothing and education for the rest of your life?

And how about your career? You're not yet successful. Or at least you don't feel like it. You don't feel like you've done anything substantial yet with your life especially since it's just starting to form into something meaningful. It's too early for you to settle down and be imprisoned in a life of diapers and responsibility. Add to that that just when you're starting to feel beautiful and attractive, it's either you'll have a episiotomized vagina or have a caesarian section scar to bear for the rest of your days. Oh, and the stretch marks, don't forget the stretch marks. 

And one last thing, your parents are going to kill you when they find out.

After the initial shock, you study your options. Do those herbal medicines in Quiapo work? Where the hell can you buy Cytotec that isn't fake these days? They say the black Cytotec works better, is that true? You scour the net and look for black market sellers. There are so many you don't even know where to start and yet all of them look untrustworthy. Your cousin knows a friend of a friend who had an abortion before, does she still have the guy's contact number?

You start to panic. You don't know what to do. The father of this thing inside you (which you like to refer simply as "blood clot" since it's still too tiny to be considered as a life form) is useless. He's ambivalent and says he will support whatever decision you make. It's a choice you have to bear on your own. 

You wish that this is all a dream and you'll wake up any minute now free from this nightmare. You bargain for a time machine that will take you even for just a second before you make the stupidest decision of your life. You're no Allie in The Notebook or Savannah in Dear John. Real life unprotected sex leads to real life babies. 

You think of the jeering stares and hushed gossip of your sudden predicament from the people who know you and start to opt for termination (so that everything may go back the way they were and you can pretend this catastrophe never happened) but then something feels wrong. A subconscious part of your brain fights off the thought of taking an unknown pill that could very well cause hemorrhage, a fatal trip to the E.R. and one less soul tethered to this earth even before it had the chance to live. 

Here it comes, the Safeguard-commercial conscience moment that wrenches your heart from the inside. It feels like the Virgin Mary Mother of God herself is standing transparently behind you, crying pools of blood in despair. You know deep in your gut that although it measures only roughly an inch right now, it will be so much more in a few months, more so in the years to come. A baby, a student, a journalist, a lawyer, an ambassador for a humanitarian council who knows?

The power of your body to create something, a life no less, out of nothing is unparalleled and feels extraordinary. Could you really give all that potential out for a cheap shot at momentary freedom and an illustrious chance at "success" (whatever that means)?

The fog in your brain clears up and the panic subsides. The drama-inclined may call it an epiphany, but you know it's just your heart talking to you.

You know what to do.

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*Images taken from Google Images and http://fahdphotography.tumblr.com/

Glasses or (Colored) Contact Lenses: Do You Really Have To Ask? 1 comments

I've been partially blind for practically half of my life. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but seriously, since 6th grade, I needed something to aid my vision or else I would bump into posts, greet the wrong people and fall into manholes. I'm nearsighted as a... very nearsighted creature and honestly, I will not be able to read the laptop screen that I'm staring at right now if not for my glasses.

This handicap has paved the way for the inevitable geekiness that came with wearing glasses in high school. The years I've spent with wire and glass sitting grotesquely at the top of my nose were the moments I felt most unattractive. I honestly felt shackled by this evil contraption on my face.

Then, the sun appeared and the heavens parted. Contact lenses entered my life and my existence returned to normal. No more need to have a clean cloth handy to wipe off smudge, no fogged up vision when eating soup, no more pesky rain splotches on my glasses that made me think they should have a built in wiper like those in windshields of cars. To cut it short and make it more dramatic than it should, contact lenses saved my life.

Now, for the longest time, I've been wearing clear ones, obviously with grade, but I've been meaning to try on colored contact lenses since late last year but never get around to actually do it. I've been convincing myself that it's not vain to do so because I actually do wear ones anyway for the correction of my vision problems. 

See, I poke fun at people who go all the trouble of buying, cleaning, managing dry eyes and other irritations just for the sole purpose of having different colored eyes. It's too much hassle for a cinnamon or charcoal colored iris, not to mention expensive.

Now, as fate would have it, the last time I went to Executive Optical, they didn't have the grade of the clear contacts I was supposed to by. The optometrist there sales talked me into buying a colored one, which surprisingly turned out to be cheaper than the clear version, and ultimately I went home with my very first poser iris lenses.

In hindsight though, I wish I didn't try on their testers in the store. 

I asked for the most subtle colors they have, ones that won't make me look like a trying-hard Caucasian wannabe. I was given a choice between Cinnamon and Amethyst. The lady said I could try both to see which one looked better. So I did. 

It was after leaving the store that I realized that these lenses that they have for fittings were not being sanitized properly but just cleaned with ordinary solution and stored in this airtight bottle. What did I expect anyway, that they autoclave it? But still, I just think it's unsafe to have these lenses tried on by different people without first establishing that they are free from any infections. I still love the EO shop but I don't think I will ever let those communal contact lenses touch my sclera again.

That said, I'm pretty fond of my Amethyst eyes but getting bored of it pretty quickly. I didn't pick it because of the violet tinge but because, out of the two, it looked less conspicuous. There was almost no difference, except for the slight doll eyes effect. Now, I wished I had picked the more obvious one just for the kicks. But hey, there's still an entire lifetime to try lenses in all the colors of the rainbow.

It's not like my eyesight's getting better.

Because Teenagers in the Philippines Do Not Get Pregnant 0 comments

Teenagers are just children with breasts and raging hormones. They know nothing of the complicated truths of the world and should be shielded from inconvenient facts that could tarnish their perfect views of our flawless universe.

They cannot choose for themselves for they do not have their own innate principles so responsible adults should be tasked to make the hard decisions for them. Because of their innocence, their eyes should be forever blindfolded and ears plugged from the sinful coil of earthly desires. Sex is bad, sex is immoral, sex should not be spoken in the sacred confines of an academic institution, nor publicly, nor anywhere else for that matter unless it is a speech about abstinence or the Virgin Mary.

Talking about sex with adolescents will lead to an increase in promiscuity because teenagers are a special kind of human specie who are more inclined to do something when presented with the dire effects of such actions such as illnesses and pregnancy. Talking about ovulation and fertilization will wake up the thundering libido in each and every one of them, resulting to more premarital sex, more unplanned births and more abortions, because minors do not have any conscience.

Lastly, as mentioned before, no one should take away these children's innocence, because the media and the internet is doing such a great job at that. There are no pornographic materials in the internet, no false information on websites, no sexually charged advertisements on billboards and on television shows. This is a great nation we live in where sexual intimacy is only present in the confines of a church-wed bedroom between a man and a woman who have been blessed by a God-fearing, non-SUV loving, non-homophobic, sexually abstaining Man of God.

NO to SEX EDUCATION!

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ANG MGA DALAGITA SA SAPANG KAWAYAN
iWitness Special Coverage - GMA 7

Thou Shalt Not Pleasure Thyself 4 comments

House Bill 4509: “An act penalizing the distribution, possession with intent to distribute and production of any device for the physical stimulation of human genitals for anything of pecuniary value and providing penalties for violations thereof.”

After reading this statement, a few questions popped into mind: What about electric toothbrushes? Back massagers? Bathroom bidets? Cellphones on vibrate? What about vegetables? Are eggplants going to be banned?? I'm going to miss my tortang talong! What about *gasp* hands?

 Ban sex toys in PH, bill urges 

MANILA, Philippines - Two party-list lawmakers are proposing a bill that would prohibit the ownership and distribution of sex toys in the country. 

House Bill 4509, authored by Buhay party-list Reps. Irwin Tieng and Mariano Michael Velarde, aims to "protect the morals of the society," they said in a statement. 

If passed, violators would be penalized with one-year imprisonment and a P30,000 fine. 

"The influence of obscene devices primarily for the physical stimulation of human genitals may seem unnoticed. The proliferation of these obscene devices which are insensitively and openly displayed in shops or stalls is very alarming," Tieng said. 

"This is also in keeping with the policy of the state to value the dignity of every human person and to promote and safeguard its integrity and the moral, spiritual and social being of its citizenry from the pernicious effects of obscene devices," Velarde added. 

Tieng and Velarde defined sex toys as any device that "can be used to stimulate human genitals," "could trigger sexually impure ideas" or "can give room to sex-related offenses." 

HB 4509 came on the heels of a debate among lawmakers on the Reproductive Health Bill, which would see the state give condoms to the poor. 

Source: http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/lifestyle/06/07/11/ban-sex-toys-ph-bill-urges

Let me get this straight, if this is just for the regulation of the sale and display of said adult toys then I can support this bill. That shops should have adult sections in their stores and that the bangketa display of these kinds of materials in populated areas be prohibited is not at all that bad. However, from the generalization of the terms and the reason presented for this kind of law to-be, I think these politicians are trying to bite off more than it should chew.

Fine, we can rationalize this as a measure for maintaining the innocence of the minds of our Filipino youth (because, God forbid, they should have zero knowledge about sexuality and even on how their own bodies work), but saying that these kind of gadgets can "trigger sexually impure ideas" and "can give room to sex related offenses" is just plain rash.

A piece of advice, if they want to ban sexually impure ideas, then ban brains instead. Thoughts are one thing that one cannot control but acting upon an idea/fantasy is another. Objects are just inanimate things that solely rely on the person using them. These rubber-made / battery operated devices have no intention nor motive to stain the world with lust and violence. And if these respectable gentlemen worry about proliferation of sex related crimes, instead of banning sex toys, maybe they should ban PRIESTS instead. But seriously, I think having a working and updated sex offenders' database is better than banning everything that vibrates and is shaped like a penis from the market.

Why is it that these holier-than-thou religious folks treat any thing related to sex and pleasure without the main intention of creating a child as automatically evil and immoral? I quote Stephen Fry on this when he said,

It’s the strange thing about this church, it is obsessed with sex, absolutely obsessed. Now, they will say we with our permissive society and our rude jokes, we are obsessed. No, we have a healthy attitude, we like it, it’s fun, it’s jolly, because it’s a primary impulse it can be dangerous and dark and difficult, it’s a bit like food in that respect only even more exciting. The only people who are obsessed with food are anorexics and the morbidly obese, and that in erotic terms is the Catholic Church in a nutshell.

Source: BBC's Intelligence Squared Debate: Is Catholicism Force of Good in the World?

Look who's copying who, now?

A world of freedom of expression, of informed choice and accessibility to that choice is upon us. A society free from religious jurisdictions and twisted dogmas. I believe these nuisance bills are just to further delay the widely contested RH Bill which actually values the intellect of the Filipino people.  They may dilly dally all they want, but the reality that women are dying everyday, because some people are too blind to see the facts that are staring at them in face, is still here to stay. Unless we do something about it.

Reality or dogma. You choose.

The word of the cleric is not the word of God. It is the word of a man who has studied the word of God.  

- Sen. Miriam Santiago

RH Bill: It All Boils Down to Trust 0 comments

Debating online about the RH Bill made me realize that there is something quite bothersome on how we look at the people around us and the society we live in. It seems to me that people don’t trust one another these days. Personal relationships with friends or lovers aside, our trust simply dwindles when it comes to our country’s people, youth, leaders and everyone else who are a part of a great nation.

Trust in the Filipino Youth

Having encountered this a million of times, most anti-RH debaters tackle on how Sex Education in the classrooms will make the youth be more inclined to have pre-marital sex, as if they will not be able to restrain themselves from humping in a cheap motel just because they have been educated about various sexually transmitted infections including HIV / AIDS.

I think this belief completely undermines the intelligence, values and character ingrained in our youth, our nation’s future.  To believe they would start having crazy public orgies to their parent’s horror because they have been taught the dire consequences of these kind of behaviour is an absolute insult to every Filipino adolescent.

Saying that Sex Education will promote promiscuity is like saying people will be more reckless driving when educated about proper road rules. Personally, I’d rather have the driver of the Jeepney I’m riding schooled from a respectable institute rather than just their peers who happen to know how to drive.

Do we really hold our sons, daughters, nephews, nieces and students in such low regard to believe that they would forget every moral fiber their parents, school and church have instilled in them?

Trust in the Government

Corruption. The big bad word every political debate revolves around at. Let us not pass the RH Bill because it is prone to corruption. All those contraceptive drugs, maternal care paraphernalia and funding for women’s health must already look like piles of cash to crooked government officials. Think of cartoons with Peso signs for eyes. They could smell instant wealth a mile away like hungry sharks near a bloody shipwreck.

I admit, our country is known to have corruption rampant in our political system, and it is an accusation not without basis. However, do we really abhor and distrust the officers we, ourselves, have put into place that much to not give a chance to a much needed government reform that could save thousands of women’s lives and improve the quality of living of our fellow citizens?

Everything is prone to corruption. Every road paved, every school built, every municipal renovated, every fund given to any project is prone to exploitation from those in charge. If I were to follow the “Let’s not support the RH Bill because it is prone to corruption” principle, then why don’t we boycott the government altogether, not pay taxes and live in another country? Our leaders are dishonest, money laundering politicians anyway, why support them in anything that they do?

Every election season, we go out of our homes, endure the lines and the heat and vote for whomever we think is best for the job. We choose the person who we trust to lead our country to a better future. Where is that trust now?  Where did this commanding negativity come from that we cannot hope for the best even if it is in exchange of the lives of women around the country?

 Trust of the Roman Catholic Church in its Followers

Pills kill. Contraceptives are unborn-baby-killing weaponry of mass destruction and using artificial means of contraception is a SIN to our Lord, Jesus Christ. He will frown upon the Filipino people as his mother, the Virgin Mary silently weeps beside him while being comforted by angels armed with Kleenex. The Almighty Father is not happy either. Didn’t He tell us to “Go forth and multiply”? The billions of people in the country are not enough! We must continue to reproduce relentlessly despite health risks of pregnancy to some mothers and unplanned babies born out of wedlock. Abstinence and NOT contraceptives is the answer to all these immoralities!

This is the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. Catholics, with the backing of the RH Bill, will fall into the chains of devious Satan and descend into the sinful void of earthly desires. The only way around this is abstinence. Should the Church’s followers believe and apply these philosophies? By all means, YES, if they want to be faithful to their religion and do what it says. A true Catholic will uphold the doctrines of her church even if the choice to do otherwise is staring at her in the face.

For debate purposes, let us imagine a future where the Reproductive Health bill is a law.

A Catholic mother is at the health center asking the barangay health worker about the various methods of family planning. The BHW discusses to her all the options available, including both the Natural Family Planning method and artificial means of contraception.

The question is this: Is the church confident that she will choose the alternative that is considered as morally acceptable and corresponds to her faith’s creed?  Because it seems to me that the CBCP is not assured, the way they’ve been acting, that their devotees will opt for the choice they have set upon as right and sinless. Because if they truly believe in the faith of their herd, all these debates about morality and sanctity of life (based solely on the Catholic dictionary) are not at all necessary because our country is composed of different religious views and principles, not just the almighty Catholic Church.

In situations like these then, who should be answerable? The (1) government that is trying to meet the needs of its people, (2) followers of a church not in tune with its teachings and philosophies or (3) the church itself for not ingraining a concrete sense of Catholicism to its flock?

Furthermore, does that make it right for the CBCP to force their beliefs unto everyone including those who are not bound by the Catholic dogma?

Trust in the Decision Making Capabilities of the Poor and Marginalized

Contraceptive mentality, increase in extramarital affairs and an absolute dissolution of Filipino family values. These are some of what sceptics fear when choices about reproductive health and, most importantly, access to said choices becomes within reach to our less fortunate countrymen.

Do we really look at the poor this way? Hand them rubber that will prevent unplanned pregnancies and diseases and all of a sudden, they will make love to the neighbour instead? Give them the chance to have fewer children so that they could take more care of the ones they already have or space their children properly and out of the blue, no one will want to have babies anymore therefore setting up a future where our country is overrun by wrinkled people and devoid of the young?

Yes, most of the poor are unlearned but they do have a mind of their own. They can make their own decisions especially if presented first with necessary information needed to make such choices. They are not sheep waiting for a shepherd. They are human beings, analytical and reasonable and thus capable of making decisions for themselves, for their family and for their own bodies.

Let us not underestimate them. Let us not underrate the intellect, character and ideals of our fellow countrymen. Let us trust in one another's capabilities, and most of all let us trust in ourselves.