Pus reminds me of cheese

The exam I took this morning just capped off Derma Week. You know how it is: puke-inducing pictures of pus, blood, and parasites; and beautiful doctors—consultants and residents alike—with glowing, almost pore-less skin. I couldn't help but stare if they weren't looking.

I was reviewing some case photos when I posted this on Twitter. Minutes after, I got the following reactions. Reading through them kept me up last night.

Now I'm craving for Breadtalk's floss and Dunkin Donut's bavarian-filled delights.

This week I've also had the chance to touch a patient with leprosy. The patient's ears and face were disfigured, but he's on his way to complete recovery. With the advent of medication, Hansen's disease has become a curable disease, but it's appalling how ignorant the entire human race is. Those who suffer from leprosy are still shunned and cast away by society—for reasons totally unfounded.

After exam, our mentor, Dr. Belen Dofitas, treated us to a foot spa. The sight of five men in white uniforms—Jegar Catindig, the Catangui twins, Marvyn Chan, and myself—entering a salon made everyone's heads turn.

The lady scrubbing my feet was kind and gentle, especially when she realized I was stifling an explosive laughter because of the tickling sensation. My feet have never looked happier.

On top of a meeting and a concert I'm attending Sunday night, I'll keep myself busy with Junot Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and Ingmar Bergman's 1978 film, Höstsonaten (Autumn Sonata). In between breaks, I'll be eating the rilyenong bangus that my classmate, Glaiza De Guzman and her sister, Cristy, gave me as part of their feeding program to the undernourished.

For the first time in recent history, we're not having any exams next week. So tell me—how cool is that?