The movies we see in the hospital
I was waiting for the lady to call my number.
It had already been fifteen minutes since I sat here in a hospital bench. I didn't care about the time because a John Lloyd-Bea film was on the tv. Since we didn't know the title of the movie and the time it was aired, we just guessed based on the available details. Lawrence said that it must have been aired in 2003 because the columnist in the movie was still using a typewriter. Koby said that it was in 2005 since in the movie, Bea used a Nokia unit to take a picture. He was sure that phone was a fad when he was grade 1.
The lady called me when everyone else was already inside the room. It didn't bother me that I was the last one to be called, because as I said, I was watching an unfamiliar John Lloyd-Bea film. I was still paying attention to details to find the cues and guess --with accuracy--- the date it was aired.
Inside the room, I showed her my arms, stretched it well so she could easily do what she needed to do. I still wanted to recall how much sleep I got from last night, but I just stopped because I knew it wasn't long enough.Thinking about that for another minute could lead me to back out. I just trusted my body. I just prayed that it will endure.
I also donated my blood last year for my aunt. That was for her operation. An operation we didn't think would be her last. Just months after the operation, she died of cancer. And now, in the same hospital with the same staff, I was about to donate blood for my friend. I couldn't help but think of the past, and the possibility that my friend, God forbid, can end up in the same misfortune my aunt had.
Just thinking about this already changes my perspective in life. Here I am unmotivated in almost all the things I do even if I don't have enough reasons to, while there's someone in a bed, suffering from leukemia, who would give everything just to have the normal life she used to have. That normal life wasn't in ages, by the way. That was only three weeks ago. Less than a month. Less than 30 days. Twenty-one days ago, she was just like everyone else, working hard to get by in life. Now, she works harder just to survive. Her life is still beautiful; only more fragile.
It seems like a movie how an unexpected plot twist like this would come.I still hadn't guessed the year of the movie when I went outside the room. I also didn't know how it ended, just like how I don't know what's going to happen to my friend.
It had already been fifteen minutes since I sat here in a hospital bench. I didn't care about the time because a John Lloyd-Bea film was on the tv. Since we didn't know the title of the movie and the time it was aired, we just guessed based on the available details. Lawrence said that it must have been aired in 2003 because the columnist in the movie was still using a typewriter. Koby said that it was in 2005 since in the movie, Bea used a Nokia unit to take a picture. He was sure that phone was a fad when he was grade 1.
The lady called me when everyone else was already inside the room. It didn't bother me that I was the last one to be called, because as I said, I was watching an unfamiliar John Lloyd-Bea film. I was still paying attention to details to find the cues and guess --with accuracy--- the date it was aired.
Inside the room, I showed her my arms, stretched it well so she could easily do what she needed to do. I still wanted to recall how much sleep I got from last night, but I just stopped because I knew it wasn't long enough.Thinking about that for another minute could lead me to back out. I just trusted my body. I just prayed that it will endure.
I also donated my blood last year for my aunt. That was for her operation. An operation we didn't think would be her last. Just months after the operation, she died of cancer. And now, in the same hospital with the same staff, I was about to donate blood for my friend. I couldn't help but think of the past, and the possibility that my friend, God forbid, can end up in the same misfortune my aunt had.
Just thinking about this already changes my perspective in life. Here I am unmotivated in almost all the things I do even if I don't have enough reasons to, while there's someone in a bed, suffering from leukemia, who would give everything just to have the normal life she used to have. That normal life wasn't in ages, by the way. That was only three weeks ago. Less than a month. Less than 30 days. Twenty-one days ago, she was just like everyone else, working hard to get by in life. Now, she works harder just to survive. Her life is still beautiful; only more fragile.
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