The tamarind bonsai on our terrace had been alive for more than a decade. Once, I was alarmed because I noticed one morning the leaves were shed completely, and it sure looked dead to me. Fearing I had killed my late mother’s favorite plant out of neglect, I watered it and prayed feverishly that it would somehow return to life.

True enough, weeks passed and small green buds sprouted, and in no time green leaves covered the branches of the gnarled yet diminutive tree. One of the things attributed to the lady of the house is keeping the home alive, quite literally- flowers in bloom in the garden, potted plants in the terrace thriving, and of course- the house itself in top condition, as if the paint was always fresh and free from cobwebs, and the floors shiny and clean.

During my homecoming in 2006, our house was in utter shambles. It was then my first project to return it to top condition by the time Nanay’s 80th birthday was celebrated. You see, with my 9 year absence, and with my mother, father, and brothers living abroad, our home was not maintained well. Floods destroyed the old sala set downstairs, the paint was flaking, and the floors cracked. And so we all went to work, with me carrying out the orders.

The walls and ceiling were repaired and painted. The downstairs floor tiled a gleaming floral white, I hung a small chandelier on the sala, my youngest brother bought new furniture and appliances, Mama had beautiful curtains sent from their home in Columbia. That was almost four years ago.

Now it seems, our home had once again lost vigor. I am not the lady of the house; it was my grandmother who would get to work in the garden early morning. It was she who would make an effort to climb a flight of stairs, with her arthritic knees, to water her bromeliads in the terrace, and supervise our helper to keep the house looking its best.

A few days ago, a cousin visited the house while she was en route to Las Vegas. She had been, when she was young, Mama’s favorite. Mama had always wanted a girl (not counting me!), and of her five pregnancies- with two of my siblings dying as babies, we were all boys. So when our uncle who worked in Vegas asked if Mama would have our mestiza cousin live with us and study at a preschool here in Tacloban, she jumped at the chance.

“Where is everybody?” She asked. I told her if she was looking for my brothers and my father, they already migrated to the US. My grandmother is now living with her eldest daughter. And the house, at that time was literally empty except for me and the helper. She kept reminiscing about the old days when Mama was still a nurse in EVRMC, and how every Christmas it would always be a big occasion (Christmas was always big deal to us because I’d make it a point to go home during Christmas break and the family would be together for a few days). It was all I could do from bursting out and crying, thankfully I held my composure.

I’m not really “lady of the house” material, because I even had a cleaning lady be the one to clean my apartment in Makati before. Besides, this house is too big for a few people. Sometimes that feeling of loss just engulfs me and I have never felt loneliness so acutely. I miss the people that once nurtured me when I was young. I know one day, I’d head in a different direction and move forward, but sometimes the aching is just unbearable. I’ll make it, I’m sure of that.

While I was beside the obstetrician a few days ago during our duty in the Delivery Room, I froze when the membranes burst. The baby was stillborn. The feet of the baby came first; the head was stuck in the vaginal canal and took almost an excruciating ten minutes to deliver. The doctor was apologetic, really there was nothing that could be done- the fetus was not viable and weighed only 250 grams. Lying on the delivery table, the mother stared at the ceiling, unmoving. We were asking her if she had a name for the baby, so that we could baptize him before we give him to the waiting relatives.

Our eyes met as she fingered the plastic rosary on her neck. She came out of her reverie and from her moving lips sprung a name. I nodded. I could never forget the look in her eyes- regret maybe, or emptiness. I carefully wrapped the fetus and took Holy Water to baptize him. I had no time to linger on those feelings because there was another lady giving birth. I was asked to change gloves and assisted, and this time the mother gave birth to a health baby girl.

Funny how the ebb and flow of life in the hospital almost goes unnoticed. How new life is born in an instant, and how deaths become merely statistics. I suppose when one deal with these things on a daily basis it becomes routine, and health care professionals have learned long ago to tuck their emotions safely out of reach while at work.

As I lay the crying neonate on her bassinet, it suddenly occurred to me that I was in the same Neonatal Intensive Care Unit my Mom worked in many years ago. I looked around the room and saw her for a moment in the nurse on duty changing a neonate’s diaper.

Through the passage of time things change. Some shed leaves like that bonsai plant, some remain abstruse like the young mother’s loss, while some are renewed in the hearts of their progeny like my mother’s legacy.

It really is hard to believe that almost four years ago I segued from working man to school boy. I became part of the largest ever batch of Nursing students in St. Scho Tacloban- a strong 500+, as it were the peak of the exodus of health workers abroad and the demand for Nurses was high at that time.

Our batch had certain peculiarities- for one, there were a lot of second coursers (“elders”, they would call us). We had batchmates from all over Region 8, and some came as far as Manila and Mindanao just to study here. Others were transferees from big name universities like UST and La Salle, and of course there were a number of us who were certified Iskolar ng Bayans running amok (lol).

I think we were also the last batch to follow the stringent screening process (aka elimination) and many of our comrades didn’t make it. By mid-semester of the 1st year 1st sem, we already had classmates who would mysteriously stop attending classes. We had 31 units straightaway, and I’m proud to note we were trained by the best Gen Ed team (some of them unfortunately, sometime in 2007, have started to seek other opportunities). I remember our Monday schedule which began at 6:30AM for the morning praise and ended 8:30PM. The rest of the week was a blur of lectures, quizzes, practical exams, and more written exams. There were 9 sections left when the enrollment for the second semester of 1st year came.

By the time we finished the 2nd year second sem, we all lined up to see the Dean, who was going to inform us of our fate. Half of the entire batch didn’t make it. Some shifted to another course, some transferred to other Nursing schools in Ormoc, Cebu, and Manila, others simply dropped out for one reason or another. Two hundred fifty or so went on to attend the coveted Capping and Badge Pinning Ceremonies- signaling the start of our transition from mere classroom instruction to actual hospital duty.

There was a twist in the new sectioning which began the summer before 3rd year- the administration pooled together all the Dean’s Listers in one section, which at some point raised controversy. I was in favor of the usual heterogenous sectioning, which was done for the majority of the batch, but the decision to have Section A homogenous according to GWA was upheld. In hindsight, I would have really preferred to be just placed in different sections because you get to meet a lot of different classmates and the solidarity of the batch was increased. Being in Section A bunched up with the same faces over and over again gets a little boring, not to mention these people are naturally competitive (myself included) which could get annoying and frightening sometimes. I’ve had friends who actually preferred to be transferred to other sections rather than be in A.

But that drama aside, we surmounted a few more hurdles like Promotive and Preventive, Curative and Rehabilitative Nursing, and research. At the same time we were trained by our Clinical Preceptors in the different areas like DR/ NICU, operating room, emergency, outpatient, community and the unforgettable Psychiatric nursing. Our batch was successful with the Case Presentation at VSMMC, and completed the affiliation without incident. And of course our batch also happened to be champions in the Sportsfest twice in a row- in 2007 and in 2008, when the teams were by year level.

I will never forget what one of our Preceptors told us during the course of our Clinical duties: “Here in the hospital you are dealing with lives. There is no room for error when you are caring for your patients.” I finally understood why firmness and strictness was always maintained in our training, and I think in that moment, by the examples shown to us in Clinical practice, I was also able to grasp what kind of health professionals we should be.

Saying that my Nursing life in St. Scho is colorful would be an understatement. So many people- fellow students, faculty and staff had touched my life in one way or another. Here I delved into another one of my passions which is writing, and I’ve gone far from my original blog entries which I initially posted to come out hahaha! They also had me dance the Curacha (a traditional courtship dance in Leyte/ Samar) in front of an audience, participate in a Cheerdance (with my “two left feet”), and play Basketball. Oh dear.

I can’t believe that in four months or so, we would be concluding our Nursing life and move on to the next chapter. It is with both elation and a hint of sadness that accompanies this realization. But if I were to encapsulate the feeling it would be gratitude- to everyone I’ve met here, to the patients I’ve cared for, to our Preceptors, and to the school and the profession I’ve come to love.