Isidro

A few weeks before the end of the first semester, I had the opportunity of representing my class in the case presentation for the Cardiovascular Module, an event that would comprise 10% of everyone's grade.

The case was of a twenty-something lady who had constrictive pericarditis secondary to untreated pulmonary tuberculosis. She had community-acquired pneumonia and probably urinary tract infection. That's a mouthful, I know, but the moral is that you have to treat TB as soon as you spot it.

(We were later surprised by our mentors' reaction, and I hope it will translate to good numerical grade equivalents.)

I'm writing about this because it's my father's birthday today. And what happened during that presentation—no, I mean seconds before it—is something that makes my father chuckle whenever I tell it to him over the phone.

I was about to begin when Dr. Abelardo, one of the most respected cardiologists in the country, interrupted me, "Anak ka ba nung radiologist na Catedral?"

"No, Sir, but we may be related."

"So . . . sino ang tatay mo?"

"Uhm . . . ." Here I took a long pause. What sort of information did he want to elicit? There was no way he could've known Tatay; they're islands apart. And so I said the plain and simple truth, "Si Isidro po."

The class was amused.

I called my father that night. "Now everyone knows your name. And to tell you the truth, they've always thought Isidore sounded great on me."

Happy birthday, Tay, and I pray you'll grow more in love for our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!