We don’t usually do this as cancer hellows, but this morning all four of us attended the Thursday audit. The audit is a weekly conference where first year residents present one of their mortalities, and receive comments and questions and stuff from everyone in the hierarchy of medicine. In my two audits years ago the best thing I’ve learned when I was being grilled in front of everyone was: just smile, give a faint nod, mumble yes yes thank you yes, and in general just have that facial expression that you’re listening and you appreciate their comments and stuff even if in your heart of heart of hearts all you’re thinking is I WANNA GET OUTTA HERE! I wasn’t the sort who would say out loud “Thank you point taken thank you for your comments point taken” because no matter how well-constructed the statement is and no matter how articulately you say it it still has the tendency to sound disingenuous.

The hierarchy of medicine reminds me of my mother’s comment some twenty years ago when she was trying to urge me to become a doctor: Magdoktor ka dahil ang doktor, walang boss. AHAHA. AHAHAHAHHAHAHA. As I soon found out, it is an endless series of bosses of various virulence, like the ascending bossness of King Koopa/Bowser in Super Mario. It is a ladder with many many many rungs, a staircase with many many steps, a pyramid with etc etc. I’ve been training in medicine for over ten years now, my hair will completely turn white in a few months, and now I’m in hell, ie, a hellow.

Five minutes into the audit and I was turning in my seat, looking for ways to distract myself because I no longer have an intact attention span. For more who should come in and sit beside me but Helliza, who has regaled me with an enjoyable five-paragraph rant in four minutes. I borrowed her iPod and played games till the battery was drained. I whispered stupid questions in particular: “Who’s that? Eh that? That? Who’s that?” having seen for the first time some of the other sections’ hellows. Shifted some more in my seat. Nothing is happening, I thought.

Three years ago I remember that while sitting in the jampacked audit who should come in late but Anj M. and Gay B. They were probably an hour late. They looked flustered. As they walked through and made singit through the seated people they were whispering to some people in the audience, “Talo si Adam Lambert! Talo si Adam Lambert!” and we realized they had a batch screening of the American Idol finale in their callroom. Soon enough nobody was listening to the presenter much to his relief, because everyone was buzzing with “Talo si Adam Lambert!”

 This time while sitting in the audit Helliza and I each received a text message at the same time, from our moms.

Helliza’s mom: Talo si Jessica!
My mom (who always makes this mistake): Talo si Jessica Soho!

Talagang dapat maka-scoop.

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