Something New

Today is the start of something new. No more stethoscopes, no more white coats, no more pap smears. I'm shedding the old stuff because I've decided to turn my passion into a bigger, more profitable and hopefully fulfilling achievement, without shedding my knowledge and experience.

I'm nervous and I'm having palpitations. But I'm not sweating because it's just too cold out here.

I hope I make a good impression.

Society Savvy

Hear ye hear ye! I am now officially an affiliate member of the Philippine Society of Oncology!

We were just gearing up for the society's 26th Annual Convention when the good news came. It's even quite unexpected because it's been months since I applied for membership, and I'm so happy that I was accepted. It truly is the fruit of that long and hard labor I did with my staff at the 10th midyear.

I, my fellow clinical trial doctor Jam and former CECAP Project Manager Paul were the three inductees for affiliate membership. There were three other fresh medical oncology specialists who were inducted as fellows. It was great to see all members of the board and the PSO Officers line up to congratulate us. It felt good to belong.

The keynote speaker for the annual convention was Mr Tony Meloto, Chair of Gawad Kalinga. He did a very well said speech on the talent, wisdom and greatness of Filipinos. It was inspiring to hear him talk about how much more we could be greater than what we are now, if only we'd fight really hard against corruption and crab mentality. As such, the PSO is planning a huge project with GK, and already I am looking forward to being part of this project. Beyond building houses and painting fences, I am envisioning a bit of pap smear-ing here and there, and some hard core clinical work, too.

This is quite a feat for general practitioners like me. But to quote Mr Tony Meloto, "Despite what’s happening around us, you can look forward to better times ahead if you do justice to your talent and you use it well to build a just and caring society." When your goal is to be of service of others without taint of malice or self-gain, I believe everyone is entitled to a certain niche where this goal may be worked on and channeled to be of real value.

Super thanks to my bosses, Dr Cecilia Llave and Dr Jean Anne Toral for the support and guidance, my hardworking staff, and of course Noy, without whom I won't believe in myself the way I do now.

Cheers!

Two Thumbs Down

One death in a 24-hour duty is almost an ordinary thing at the time when I was working as the only doctor in a 50-bed secondary hospital in a province south of the metro. Adult deaths are more common and tolerable. The death of a young patient, however, is vigorously stirring. The death of two babies in a row shatters me to pieces.

Two years ago this week, I spent the second half of 72-hour shift resuscitating newborns. One, a premature baby boy, had been intubated for a day after developing pneumonia. He kept me awake for most of my shift due to decreasing oxygen saturation every two hours or so, but he was a fighter. A little tap on the foot to make him cry usually did the trick, but at 9 am the following day he didn't even grimace. He kept his eyes closed and maintained bluish-gray skin despite all our efforts to make him go pink again. The parents themselves told us to stop; they've finally realized it was time to let go. It was a pain to even look at the clock to document the time of the baby's death.

After a few tears, I got back to seeing other patients. In the afternoon, a pregnant lady was rushed to the ED complaining that her baby was moving a lot less since that morning. We did a stat C-section, and out came a lifeless baby with a familiar facies - that of one with Down's Syndrome. This baby girl never let out a cry; she was plump and weighed appropriately for her age, but she was practically lifeless. Since she was a niece of a friend, I tried my very best to resuscitate her even when my thumbs hurt very badly from pumping two hearts - hers & of the baby boy who died earlier. After an hour, we stopped our futile efforts. I stared at the clock in disbelief - an hour ago we were recording her time of birth; now we're writing down the time of her death.

photo from Touching Souls

There it was again, the cold feeling on my palms and soles. My sore thumbs went numb and my legs felt like jelly. I was tired and sleepy and hungry - I do not another emotion or status, least of all sad or devastated or frustrated.

I sat slumped at the OR floor and cried. Really hard.

8 to 5

I used to criticize "office" people - those who worked the "normal hours" of 8 am to 5 pm, with an hour-long break. Such a short time compared to doctors who worked 24, 36 or 72 hours with unpredictable breaks and sleep. Some have none. While the office people strutted in their air-conditioned posh cubicles in designer clothes and shoes, we, the doctors could not even take a shower or lunch in peace because there will always be calls in between patients. The sad part is that we get equal pay as the office people, sometimes lower if the patient could not afford to pay cash.

Now that I've shifted gears to research, I'm required to work during the "normal" office hours. For the past two years that I have been doing so, I realized that the number of hours doesn't really matter sometimes. It's quite tiring to wake up at exactly the same time everyday and develop a certain routine.

Sometimes I miss just working my ass 72 hours straight and sleep the entire day the following day. I hate worrying about what to wear to the office and I miss my comfortable scrub suits and sneakers.

The boredom is pretty stressful, too. Before it was various sorts of ailments - from malingering to dengue fever, from breech deliveries to gunshot wounds, from diazepam overdose to fatal cerebrovascular bleeds - now it's just the computer and pap smears. I miss the adrenaline rush of the emergency room and the thrill of the operating theater.

I'm not complaining. I'm just reminiscing. And harboring new found respect for the people who did an 8 to 5 all their lives.

I Should Have Known

One of the most unpleasant experiences I had was having to go to St Luke's Extension Clinic at the time when an opportunity to go to Australia on a business trip last year was pressing. I was not given a visa, and I was immensely disappointed. Most of all, I hated the pulmonologist who saw me so much I'd kill to know her name and her whereabouts.

To quote the follow-up blog to that,

"Finally I was face to face, rather face to face mask, with the pulmonologist. I was able to tell her that I am a doctor and that the same thing happened (chest PA suspicious, lordotic clear) when I was applying for internship at Makati Med, so I was not alarmed when the xray film in question turned out suspicious as well. I stated that I had been in contact with the consul and that all I needed was a clearance from her, that Im willing to do the smear & the culture & all films she wants taken as soon as I come back. I honestly told her that as a doctor I know when I would be needing help and that of course by all means I would want to be treated and cured if I have to. I mean, who doesn't?

Then she blurted away with all the technical boo hoos (she needs old films, i can't say for sure without culture, yada yada yada..) none of which I don't already know, as if she didn't hear anything I said for the past 5 minutes. She asked me what my specialization was, ausculated me and said matter of factly that if I could present previous films, I may do so. And that was it.

I stood outside to wait for the nurse's instructions, dumped yet again. I came in there to talk to a fellow doctor who I hoped would understand the situation, expecting some form of empathy, and maybe a bit of advice, or a peek into how the system works in that place. Yes, I was asking her a favor, but for the love of God it was a well-placed notion. I had no bad intentions. If I were truly sick I would not even express my intention to join. All I wanted was to attend the meeting so I can meet potential connections and hopefully employers. Apparently she chose not to hear it and she would not care.

I got out, feeling worse that I ever had in months, trying to convince myself that it wasn't about consultants looking down on GPs like GPs had no place in the medical world, blaming myself for even considering, wondering why I have been such an understading empathic doctor to my patients while some doctors are not. Not even to their fellow doctors."

Feisty, eh? I really felt bad. I thought it was something personal. It may be. Whatever. Until Noy and I got invited last Friday to a round table discussion on the new standards of TB management. The American Thoracic Society released the New International Standards for TB Care in 2006, which says that:

Standard 2. All patients (adults, adolescents, and children who are capable of producing
sputum) suspected of having pulmonary tuberculosis should have at
least two, and preferably three, sputum specimens obtained for microscopic
examination. When possible, at least one early morning specimen
should be obtained.
Standard 3. For all patients (adults, adolescents, and children) suspected of having
extrapulmonary tuberculosis, appropriate specimens from the suspected
sites of involvement should be obtained for microscopy and, where
facilities and resources are available, for culture and histopathological
examination.
Standard 4. All persons with chest radiographic findings suggestive of tuberculosis
should have sputum specimens submitted for microbiological examination.

I should have known. This came out even before I had the doomed chest xray done. I thought about all the wasted energy hating and bitching about the pulmonologist who was only adhering to the standards and doing her job.

It's a shame I even entertained the issue of being "just" a GP when the sponsor company invited ONLY GPs to this event. This is a clear revelation that even though General Practitioners are not a very popular choice in the urban health scene, they do thrive and they are being given consideration and importance by the pharmaceutical industry.

I may still have regrets over not making it to Perth, but there's really nothing I can do about it except face the fact that if I really wanted to have that visa, I will have to face the ordeal of clearing myself of the TB scare. I just wish they'd be more friendly at St Luke's though.

Improper

I am saddened by the fact that an organized group whose primary goal is cancer prevention in the Philippines is losing support from its sponsors. It employees will leave in two weeks in search of more stable jobs.

I do not have the right to explore the un-explorable, but experience tells me the problems stems from bad management and improper use of funds. By improper I mean any reader is free to use every possible meaning and implication of the word.

Okay, this blog post is starting to feel like a blind item from a Sunday broadsheet. I wish I'd write something less sad and more substantial next time.

Would I Ask for More?

When I was deep into my 96-hour straight workweeks, I once seriously thought I'd consider an 8-5 job? I wondered what it was like sleeping a peaceful night, no crazy calls from stupid nurses at night, no dying patients at the break of dawn, no constant fear of encountering a strange emergency case at 2 am. I longed for mornings that start at my very own comfortable bed and perked up by the smell of homemade breakfast and not the usual hospital goo. I yearned to declare "That's it for today." at 5 pm and rush home to cook my husband a simple dinner, watch Grey's Anatomy or read Nicholas Sparks, hit the sack when I feel like it. Oh yeah, and do IT of course.

Well. Im kinda having THAT life right now, thanks to my clinical trial stint, the second year of which Im celebrating today. It's a happy one of course, because it means I get a salary increase. At least now I've equalled my moonlighting earnings without burning a lot of sweat.

My current life isn't exactly ideal - my husband is away two nights a week, and when he's around, I'd be too sad cooking alone at home so I'd rather hang around at the gym while he works out. Why I'm not joining him is another story. But yes, I do wake up in a comfortable bed. I do make delicious breakfast and get a lot of pleasure watching my husband gobble it up. I do declare "That's it for today." at 5 pm everyday. Well sometimes at 4 pm. Okay, 3 pm is more like it. But I do go home every afternoon. To a nice dinner, homemade or otherwise. More importantly, I sleep after a satisfying routine of cool shower, prayer, novel.

Despite all this, I am addressed as doctor at work. I get to keep my title without the associated insanity.

I honestly miss the hospital, but I'd rather not say no to this right now. I believe it's for me and I deserve it.

The Real Crab Mentality

It was a day that started early and ended late. All cancer professionals and advocates under one roof, sharing knowledge, ideas and experiences, all for the great goal of keeping the big C at bay. I felt the usual kind of tiredness, but an unusual career high. I'm proud to have been proud of this event.

Some scenes from the event -

backstage with Jam, my fellow research doctor, who helped me a lot through the coordinating process despite her other big responsibilities

jam with jesse (team medical technologist), dr mon severino, and
leidy (team nurse) at the technical box

our boss, dr cecilia llave, overall chair of the organizing committee

with dr michael sarte (in blue shirt) of the sleep society of the philippines

with dr eva cutiongco-dela paz of the institute of human genetics

with dr romulo de villa, the philippines' foremost nutritional biochemist
with ellen tordesillas, cancer survivor and advocate

with pediatrician dr anna ong-lim, vaccines expert

abbygale arenas-de leon, founding director of personi-fi, talked about the warning signs of cancer and gave good personality tips - cool!

cathy babao talked about good treatment of the dying patient

the organizing committee and officers of the philippine society of oncology

fun at the fellowship night. good food and setup too.

i heart my staff =)

Crab Mentality

Yep. Im still alive. The whole IELTS hoopla thing is on a fizzle, but I've adjusted to that and I'm hoping for the best. What kept me busy these days was the title Assistant to the Overall Co-Chair of the 10th Midyear Convention of the Philippine Society of Oncology, Inc.

Obviously, it's my first time going on business like these. And like anything, I'm having ups & lows, but there are definitely more ups, so I'm quite enjoying myself. Rubbing elbows with the high and mighty in the Oncology world felt different but thrilling.

I've been into meetings here and there, and it's great to meet people in this circumstance. I get to arrange the entire program, talk to the speakers and panelists, and know about the different support groups concerned with cancer and cancer-stricken patients and their caregivers. This whole process involves a lot of learning, for which I am grateful.

Here is the ad which is hopefully being scattered here and there. And while awaiting for my affiliate membership to be approved, I'd like to invite you to this event, which is very much open to the lay, apart from medical professionals.


Registration fee is free for PSO members, Php 500 for doctors, Php 300 for nurses and other medical & allied medical professionals, and Php 100 for laypeople. It's on June 26th at the Auditorium of the Lung Center of the Philippines. For more about the midyear convention, please get in touch with the Secretariat at philsoco_pso@yahoo.com.

I Love February

Not because of Valentine's day... Well ok, sometimes. But primarily because Noy & I are celebrating our "togetherness" (Gee. How does a married person call that time when she/he & spouse first became boyfriend & girlfriend? ) this month. This year we're celebrating our 12th, and that feels exciting.

Today, however, I'd like to share this blog entry I made about two years ago on what used to be our wedding site. I was on the crossroads of career opportunities when this happened, and the incident helped me decide. It happened in July, but since it's largely heart-related, figuratively and, more importantly, literally, I remember this life-changing moment whenever Valentine season comes.



I haven't had similar attacks for the longest time now, thank God. That tells me I made the right decision. Which makes me love February even more.

If you're planning to give that significant person a Valentine gift, consider a heart check. We have good internists and cardiologists in our country.

=) happy loving!

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.

Purply: My First Speaking Stint

I am a bad public speaker. My heart pounds wildly, my hands and feet get cold and clammy, my voice trembles, and most of all I sweat buckets regardless of the temperature of the place. I am always like this whenever the spotlight is on me – from big weddings to simple meetings – and I hate it.

So when I was told that I had to speak before a group of students about cervical cancer, my stomach churned. Mind you this is not metformin-related. A group of graduating Mass Communication students at St Scholastica’s is eyeing an information-campaign type of thesis, and they are definitely interested in cervical cancer and the need to increase its awareness among students.

If I were their teacher, I’d give them plus points for social impact. Cervical cancer awareness is something really important for all schools to campaign on. So I spent the ENTIRE weekend working on the slides (which I colored purple because purple is CECAP’s color), keeping everything organized based on the outline I made. I decided not to attend Noy’s cousin’s debut party. It’s my first talk, for crying out loud. I even printed two sets of notes – one for me, the other for the slide person, complete with instructions on where to click next because I like using hyperlinks heavily.

The venue was a medium-sized conference room. There were about 70 students – masscom freshies – chatting, texting, staring at the wall and simply uninterested.

I was introduced as being a graduate of UP Manila, and who spent medical internship at Makati Med. I wondered what happened to the fact that I acquired my medical degree from PLM (Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila). I certainly don’t remember deleting that from my resume because without it, I never would have been a doctor. Discrimination alert! These people should google PLM once in a while. I mean, I don’t love the school that much, but the quality of education is definitely better than most expensive private schools.

Brushing aside the fact that I was discriminated against by virtue of my being a graduate of school of the dukha, I went on with the talk, chirpy voice and all, not minding the fact that half the room wasn’t paying attention. Then I mentioned the word vagina. Mouths opened. The room fell silent. Eyes wandered in search of approval. Poker-faced, I went on. At this day and age, I believe vagina is a technical term that doesn’t deserve shunning up, because certain issues just would not be clear without mentioning it. For this particular talk of mine, vagina is a technical, necessary term.

When pictures of cervixes came out, the momentum was definitely on. I may have bored them with oncogenes and such, but the picture of a cancerous cervix floored them. By the time I was telling them how not to get cervical cancer, everyone was listening intently. Ah, the power of an image!

I got a lot of questions afterwards, mostly clearing up misconceptions, even when no more purple shirts were up for grabs. The thesis people printed and wore lovely purple shirts for the “event” and gave them away to lucky question-askers. They had equally cute purple landyards like this for everyone too.

My nurses – Ate Let and Leidy – whom I dragged to accompany me, got these, too. I told them later we all should have worn purple!

Apparently Ate Let is not a very good photographer, but here I am in my award moment. I honestly didn’t expect something like this, but it felt good, being recognized as someone with “authority ‘on a particular subject. I’m no ob-gyn, but it doesn’t take one to raise cervical cancer awareness among students.

These are the stuff the students gave me –

I love the coffee cup and how it matches with the planner.

The certificate is so purply, I love it.

I have literally sweated it out, and I’m looking forward for more. I want more purple stuff!

For information on cervical cancer in the Philippines, visit the CECAP website.

And if you have even the slightest curiosity of what and where PLM is, just click that part in this blog entry where I mentioned it.

In the Eyes of a Cancer-Stricken Child

"Hi ma'am, kamusta po kayo? Ang ganda nyo po, ma'am!" ("Hi madam, how are you? You look beautiful, madam!") , was how two children greeted me while I passed them on my way to the toilet today. It was proving to be a crappy day at work and normally, I would ignore children who made remarks like these, thinking they either reek of sarcasm or in need of some money.

Today isn't exactly a bad hair day, but I certainly don't feel pretty either, especially when some unprofessional people expect me to perform non-doctor tasks seamlessly. I'm sure I'm not ugly, but I'm not the type who'd make heads turn, much less call the attention of two eight year old male, bald, masked kids who trotted their heavy IV stands along the corridor and happen to be cancer patients who stay at the hospital one month or so at a time.

Coming back from the toilet, they said hi again, this time purposefully tucking their masks under their chins to show off their smiles. I smiled back and decided to stop for a chat.

The first one, whose smiled faded away almost immediately, told me matter of factly that his chemo didn't push through today because his white blood cells are on the high side. He flinched a little when I touched the tennis ball-sized tumor on his left shoulder. "Dalawa na po ang bukol nya, dati isa lang sa tiyan" ("He now has two tumors when before he only had one in the tummy"), told the other kid, who gamely showed me the disc-shaped tumor the size of a regular CD at the center of his abdomen.

They let me scratch their bald heads. They held my hand. I can't think of anything else to say because I did not want to dwell on the very obvious and sad topic of their illness.

Then the happier one broke the silence. "Maganda po kayo, ma'am."

When I asked him why he thinks so, he said "Kasi po lagi kayong nakangiti tuwing dumadaan dito. Wala pong ibang tao na ngumingiti pag dumadaan dito, kayo lang po." ("Because you smile everytime you pass us by. No one else does that around here.")

And what does my smiling do to them, I asked. "Masaya po." ("It makes us happy.")

I replied with a weak "talaga?" ("really?") then hugged them both.


A crappy day. An ordinary smile. A beautiful thing in the eyes of a ailing child. A dying one, perhaps.

I said goodbye, returned to my desk and wiped a tear on my cheek. I'm never letting any unprofessional person ruin my day again.





(As some of you may already know, I now work at the Cancer Institute at UP-PGH. My clinic/office is at the second floor, near the pediatrics ward. Next to it is the toilet, which I share with 20 or so CI employees. )

A Day of Firsts

Last tuesday, September first, was my first day at my new workplace. I decided to move because it's a lot nearer to home; this way Noy and I won't have to live in a clinic anymore. There's so much to say about my new workplace, it is literally new because it's revamped and made over. I don't know what the room used to be, but it sure looks cool, comfortable & quite stylish with its high ceilings and wood details which gives it a modern rustic feel to it. I kinda like the way they made the ancient ceiling fans blend with the new look well. And they do make the room much cooler by scattering the draft from the airconditioning units.

I especially like this view of the garden from my table (which I share with the outgoing doctor - or is it the other office's? - haha). It's a readily accessible breath of fresh air when I need it. In case I'll be needing it. My plan is to put in some orchids from mama's garden if the boss would approve of it. Right now, it's just all green, but serves the purpose nonetheless.


I have yet to memorize the names of the people I'm going to work with, but so far they're all nice and accommodating, albeit shy. (The next day I understood why - my boss introduced me to the staff as their new boss, which I never expected. It's quite a complicated story, and I'd rather not divulge it here no matter how much I wanted to.)

Since a lot about this work is confidential, let's just say I did some extra work on this day. I didn't mind because 1) my lunch is free (what a way to spend my first day!) and 2) it's field work that takes me much closer to home, which cuts back my transportation expense about 90%. This extra work took me to the Crowne Plaza Galleria Manila, where we vaccinated their employees. I caught a glimpse of this exciting new hotel in the Ortigas area, and enjoyed the work there. Unfortunately we didn't get to see & experience their services well, save for the egg sandwiches, but I'm sure looking forward to their next doses. =)


Since Crowne Galleria was already near home, I was excited at the thought of having more free time before dinner since we were done at about 4. Passing through Shang Plaza, I imagined myself reclining on the day bed to snooze when I realized I left my keys at home. Noy isn't coming back until the morning, and my brother is attending bar review and won't be home until 10.

This is the first time I ever had problems with a key (I guess that's what living in a clinic could do to someone huh?), and since I needed cash too I decided to line up at the BDO ATM there while I think about my options. After 2 solid hours, 4 long-playing attempts (read: ultra loooong lines) at obtaining cash, and an episode of a matrix-like thing appearing on the ATM screen (really scary I thought my card got busted or something), I am still cashless at 6 pm.

Tired, hungry and with feet so painful they'd leave me had they been detachable, I went up the cinema and had a brilliant idea - watch a movie! That'll kill a lot of time and when it's over, dear brother will be on his way home. Luckily, the BPI ATM was kind enough to let me have some of MY cash (I am sooo opening an account next week! I am sick and tired of BDO already!) that I was able to grab dinner from McDonald's and buy a ticket for one to The Time Traveler's Wife.

It was my first time to eat the usually fun to eat cheeseburger by my lonesome in the cinema lobby (Shang only allows food in their Snackbar to be brought in). Interestingly, it was also my first time to watch a movie ALONE. For some reason, it was only this late that I realized it wasn't scary at all. In fact, I can't remember why I never watched a movie alone before. But finally, I'm a big girl!

I've never read The Time Traveler's Wife, but I was intrigued, fascinated even, by the trailer and the reviews. So there I was, enjoying myself and feeling good & bad at the same time. It's such a sad movie that felt heavy on the chest (but I'd rather not tolerate it) but then, it's happy too because it's possible to physically be with a loved one who already died, albeit "on strict schedule" and "for a very limited time only".

I hate quoting Kris Aquino, but I agree with her hands down, that when you lose someone, you'd kill for 5 days, or 5 minutes, heck even 5 seconds, of time again with that someone. Just to be with that someone. I've never lost someone I love, and that is one of my greatest fears. This movie just reinforces my daily aim to let my husband and family know that I love them in any possible way - a kiss, a hug, tweet, SMS, email - any acceptable way. If I do get to time travel, this I won't mind doing for the first time every time for the rest of my life.