Bottled ※ Brain: Clingy-ness flourishes in Rehab

REHAB ends in two days and our free time with it. The past two weeks have been nothing but restful. After two months of IM, it was just what we needed. The available free time, for one only goes on 24-hour shifts twice (and for some, even once), has allowed us to get to know each other. If you read this blog, you probably know that apart from the twins who eat like anorexics during lunch, we pretty much have insatiable appetites.

I remember the conversation Casti and I had months ago, during the time when were deciding whether we'd pursue the opportunity to get into a separate internship track, that our only wish was that our blockmates, if we decided to stay on, would be just as "game" as we were, especially with food. It has turned out that our PGIs—the best bunch there is in PGH, if I may say so—are food lovers, too, perhaps to an even greater degree.

Rich is an overflowing fountain of food ideas; his perspicacity towards which restaurants to visit, which dishes to taste, has brought us places.

Bernie, who must have eaten in 99% of all the restaurants in the city, resonates with him. She knows which dishes to try, too, and always tries to be available, regardless of how busy she is—well, no intern is ever too busy in Rehab, so scratch that.

Agnes has a stomach comparable to a bottomless pit. Women would kill to have her metabolism because she never gets fat. Worried that she might be suffering from hyperthyroidism, she had herself checked. Negative. Our diagnosis: gluttony.

Charlie is especially fond of pansit—in any form it appears. His eyes brighten up, his smile widens, at the very thought of pansit. And he's not even Chinese.

This morning we had breakfast inside the clinic. We started early, before the patients came in. Casti brought inipit from Malolos; I had waited five years to taste that. It could've been more perfect with tea, though. Jegar cooked pansit canton straight out of the pack—it was glorious. Rich brought tuna, fresh out of the can. Agnes brought siomai. We all felt sleepy afterwards.

Someone said everybody gets clingy in Rehab, and the past two weeks can attest to the fact that, testosterone-overloaded our block may be, we have become just like that: clingy.

I will miss the small, light moments like the one we had this morning. We never tire of jesting, calling each other names, and making fun of and with each other. We always find opportunities to laugh, whenever we hear something quotable from the other examining rooms—Charlie being the most quotable of all. Consider this actual conversation:

Charlie: Patingin nga po ng X-ray ninyo. (I'd like to look at your X-ray)
Patient: Ano po ang nakikita niyo? Ano po ang resulta, Dok? (What do you see? What's the finding, Doc?)
Charlie: Mukhang may buto pa naman kayo. (Looks like you still have bones.)

I may sound like a 14-year old teenager when I tell you I truly, madly, deeply love my block (like the song!) and am extremely thankful that I belong to it.

Be that as it may, I am—we are—having fun.