On-Going Battles

 As 2022 ended, I was proud and happy about how far I reached and how I became stronger. I was planning to write a love letter kind of blog, disguised as if written for a certain someone special like a lover but is for myself. Admittedly, I had a rough end for 2021 and a start for 2022. But I pulled through 2022 and am now in 2023. What I didn’t know is that for 2023 I still am on God’s strong warriors' list.

    As most of my friends, relatives, and readers already know, I’ve been diagnosed to have Systemic Lupus Erythematosus last 2020 and have been cautiously and vigilantly living with it for the past 3 years hoping I can put the disease to sleep. On most days I forget that I have the disease but on certain days she doesn’t fail to remind me that she exists – “she” because my mom would call it my “twin”. Despite the rough start of 2022, I managed to be where I want to be and start to realize my dreams and aspirations slowly – I started residency training in General Surgery in a hospital where I feel at home and with co-residents who feel like family. It is not easy; it certainly is not in the slightest bit. But even with all the difficulties, I still can’t see myself elsewhere – not in Pediatrics, not in Radiology. I know I sound so hardheaded, but the heart wants what it wants.

    I am already six months into the program. I already have the department’s patch on my white coat. I have my nameplate and my name was already included in the roster of residents. But during my annual check-up with my rheumatologist, I was advised to get myself admitted and receive a high dosage of steroids intravenously for 3 days followed by monthly treatment for the next six months because my twin has been attacking my kidneys.

    While still in the clinic, I was weighing my options. I trained to bargain. Because submitting to my Rheumatologist’s plan would mean I’d have to stop training. But my attending was adamant to have me admitted and closely monitored for the next 6 months with no other options open. But of course, the final decision would be mine. So, my parents and I exited the clinic, and as I slowly made my way out, I could no longer hold my tears. My vision was getting blurry as I made my way to our car. I could not remember whether there was heavy traffic or not because my thoughts were elsewhere, and I couldn’t keep my eyes dry.

“What will happen to my training?”

“How will I tell our chairman and Training Officer? How will they react?”

“How will I tell my co-residents?”

“Will the department still take me back”

    Those were my initial thoughts when I realized the best option for me. I did not even think of whether I am going to heal or not. Nor did I think of the burden I’m putting on my parents and family again. I know, it seems so selfish. Maybe because I know that my family will always have my back and would do everything for my well-being and that my family would always try to understand me, that’s why they weren’t my first concern.

    Slowly, with a heavy heart, I tried to break the news. First, to Stephanie, my batchmate. And then to Doc Ken, Micah and Jill. The four of them have been the closest to me since Steph and I were shadowing them as our immediate seniors. Of course, they were saddened but they all want what is best for me. Then our Chief Resident Doc PJ, who immediately called me up and advised me on what to do. The whole night I was crying. I cried more than when I finally let go of my ex-boyfriend. It was like saying goodbye to something I had hoped and worked hard for. Though I know it was temporary, nothing is certain – at this point, I still don’t know if the department will take me back.

    Saturday, the following day, I called up Dr. Kionisala, our training officer, and told him of my situation. Doc Kioni had kind words for me, told me that he appreciates all my efforts to be at par despite all difficulties and that he is willing to take me back if I decide to. And then I called up Dr. Mijares, our chairman. I told her of my situation, and her being the mother of our department understood me well. Like Doc Kioni, she had kind words and words of encouragement for me. And as much as they want to keep me in the department, they have to let me go for now because it is what is best for me. So, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, I informed my co-residents. I didn’t realize that they appreciate me and would be sad to see me leave. And yes, Saturday was another crying day even as I started processing my papers for admission.

    Sunday was still a crying day. As I attended the mass, like when I was diagnosed last 2020, I didn’t ask God “why”. I just know that there is a reason, a better plan, and a bigger picture that I still can’t see now. I have so much trust in the Lord that He will heal me. After church, I informed my friends, Quenie, Arnita, Tinay, Wynje, Shena, Dorlen, Loch, Melzar, Aizah, Den, and Ronie – they immediately poured out their concerns and prayers for me. I wanted my confinement to be discreet, but I know I need prayers from all the people who care for and love me. And yes, a lot of people do care for me. Old classmates, old friends, and work friends immediately messaged me as soon as they found out. And it touched me to see how a lot wanted to visit me and would miss me (like my nurses in the ward – Maam Jeve, Maam Gale, and Maan Fly). So for four days (including today, Monday) I’ve been crying and crying. But not just because I am sad to say my temporary goodbye, nor just because my disease condition is worsening but mainly because of the love and concern that people have poured out for me.

    As I’m making this blog entry while receiving my IV medications, I still get teary-eyed remembering the kind words and love I’ve been receiving. My faith is solid that God will heal me. Because He has a better plan for me. And I will strive to continue to inspire people, especially those who are like me – butterfly warriors. Lupus may not be curable, but it is manageable. We just need to know when to push forward, when to step back and pause, and when to turn around and look for another way. I know this is a just setback, for me to rest and catch my breath. After this, I’m just going to bounce right back up again with God’s grace.