Feelings
Once a daughter, twice a doctor!
By Emmanuelle
At 6:30 to eight in the morning of the second exam day, Dr. Celerina Papa-Malinit was the only parent still patiently standing by the UE gate, hoping that her silent presence would be a pleading to melt the guard’s heart, soft enough for him to squeak open the gate and to allow her to wait inside the UE compound, where there were long benches to stretch out the eleven-hours wait, but most importantly, where there was a lawn stretching wide and green.
She would stand there quite longer than she expected. The guard was a hard heart to crack.
Four other mothers took the easy way out. They found seats and tables in the Jollibee next door, sharing one wall with UE. They peered curiously at Celerina. They ate their breakfast value meals. They drank their hot chocolates and coffees and iced teas. They anxiously peered at Celerina.
Then after minutes of peering at Celerina, they stood up. Enough was enough. They decided five mothers were more forceful presence than one. They joined Celerina. And the strategy worked! Seeing the line was growing by kilos of matronly presence, the guard finally let them through, albeit hesitantly. He warned them not to go beyond the lobby at the end of the hallway. It was as good as having told them: Stop right there and pretend the green swath of lawn is one wide ocean, formidable to all, deadly to the makulit. The ladies said fine by us, okay, thank you.
The lobby watch was allowed for only the first day. The next day, the guards would only allow the parents as far as the entrance hallway just inside the gates.
Nevertheless, Celerina would reward the guards with take-out spaghetti. The others would supplement with cups of coffee, or soda.
They would spend eleven hours talking then listening about the difficulties of putting a child through ten years of medicine, and at the same time sending their other children through their respective chosen courses. What if these other children chose to take medicine too? Or law! May God forbid! But then, God does allow!
The stories vary. In the end, the stories turn out the same:
This child is now here at this stage, graduated, with only the Medical Board exam left to hurdle. Life afterwards would be hers to live, her blank pages to fill. I had led her to the door of her future. She turns the key. She opens the door. She steps over and into the far beyond. To bud, to bloom, to flourish!
Sometime though, child, do look back now and then. I would always be here, just before the door where you left to be off. Always, with these arms folded in prayer to wish you well. And in your times of need, these same arms shall open wide to fold you into my heart. Again. And again.
I make the sign of the Cross on your forehead. Bless you, child. I tap your head. You were a good girl. You were a good daughter. Now, be as twice as good a doctor.
The feeling doth remain unchanged, if the daughter were a son.
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