A Little (Serious) Public Exposure

Last year, I was asked to lead my staff in vaccinating 50 or so barangay health workers linked to the Cervical Cancer Prevention network program. The event was entitled The Tour of Hope Philippines 2009 Gives Back. Since the event in May has generated quite a lot of support for its advocacy, they have decided to give it back to the community by doing such mass vaccination. Since it sounded sweat-generating (hey, it could be more than 50) my staff and I decided to wear scrubs so we'd be comfortable.

On the morning of December 3rd, mass vaccination day, I decided not to wash my hair since it had only been 6 hours since I last washed it. (I have an improving case of stress-induced alopecia. My doctor told me to wash it only once a day, and I prioritize washing it at night after it has caught all the dirt along Taft Avenue, which I do not like to take with me to my clean pillows and bed.)

I wore the scrubs I wore almost every other week to work in Laguna. I bought it from my suki in Tutuban Center. I love its color, magenta, and the little purple flowers on the lime green piping highlighting its mock overlap V-neckline.

I wore the nice pair of denim pants Angie found for me in an ukay-ukay in Calamba. It was mine for a freaking Php 250 (around USD 5).

I wore a dirty old pair of blue chuck taylors, handed down from my sister in law.

The program has almost started at the Cancer Institute auditorium when Karen, the CECAP Coordinator, told me I was going to vaccinate a patient in front of the audience to mark the ceremonial vaccination, and for documentation, e.g., photos. Fine. No doctor will be too cheap-looking when a glaring white long-sleeved coat, Makati Med logo emblazoned (Yup. My last coat made was during internship.) covers all the ugly stuff beneath.

I went back to the office, fixed my hair a little and went to my chair, on the back of which the much-trusted coat hanged everyday, barely used. A closer check revealed grime on the collar, cobweb remnants on the sleeves, some unremovable dirt on the back.

Trying to be disinterested, I walked back up to the auditorium, raised my head up high, and tried not to shake. Who will the media people be anyway? I didn't even bring my own camera because this wasn't supposed to be THAT big.

And so my name was called. The patient I talked to earlier went up front, and prepared herself. I took the vaccine off from its packaging and there they were - 20 or so media men & women huddled around us, logo-bearing cameras (Studio 23, IBC 13, UN TV, Philippine Star, Malaya, etc.) shoved at my face. Someone instructed me not to push it all at once; I had to hold the actual vaccination up until everyone's got a good shot.

CLICK CLICK CLICK they all went. I started to sweat with all that spotlights literally on me...

And my unwashed hair..

And my overused faded scrubs..

And my ukay-ukay jeans..

And my old dirty shoes..

And my filthy doctor's coat..

And the thought inside my head that said "Why on earth wasn't I told I was going to be on TV?".

I could not help but smile.. no, grin. Until someone told me not to.

I was like, seriously?!

Oh and by the way, this one & only article that reached our office with my photo on it had my name misspelled unforgivably. Jeez.

Interested in joining the Tour of Hope Philippines 2010? Click here.