111 days left

I relish blissfully slow Sunday mornings. 

I'm in a nearly-empty cafe along Samping Avenue in Butuan City. The only other patron is this middle-aged guy in a baseball cap, sitting by himself at the communal table, sipping on a hot mug of peppermint tea. As usual, I came here alone, with no plans other than writing a blog post and cooling off with an icy coffee.

Since it's just the two of us in this wide cafe, sitting far apart, I feel safer taking off my mask and exposing my face. My usual orangey eyeshadow and light peach blush have melted from the intense heat of the commute, and big fat beads of sweat cling to my forehead, nose, and cheeks. I hurriedly dab at my face before anyone notices my disgustingness. But the other dude is focused on his laptop and doesn't seem to care.

I'm always so conscious about my own sweatiness. A college classmate once told me that I was the sweatiest girl he'd ever met in his life. Um, thanks. That was certainly a good comment to hear in my formative years.

. . . 

My insecurities have ramped up a lot recently. I was recently pressured asked by the LGU to represent them during the Nasipit Employees Night "beauty pageant." I add quotation marks because the contestants aren't really judged on their physical appearance but rather on how much money they raise during the night. Still, it was a flattering request. But I had to say no, over and over, knowing the host of self-esteem issues it would trigger. 

I hate being the center of attention. I hate feeling people's eyes on me and knowing they are judging my appearance. I hate having to "perform" and act like somebody I'm not. I feel nervous and tense when I think I'm not presenting myself the way I "need" to. 

So yeah, I said no, and I am so glad I stood firm on that. Because Employees Night turned out to be really fun - in my own capacity as an audience member. There was a bohemian dress code and it was so nice to see coworkers all dolled up and out of the usual uniform. 

I got to spend the night just chatting with friends, having a couple of drinks, and dancing. Such a nice break from work. 

Bohemian night! That's Mayor Roscoe Plaza on the right and Ma'am Ida Balanay, Public Health Nurse III slash Municipal Nutrition Action Officer, to my left. I don't know why this photo is so low-res.

And yeah you read that right: there was dancing. I danced. Lol. I am so self-conscious and shy about it but I felt safe surrounded by my RHU coworkers who I trusted and felt safe around. I am so thankful for them. Some of them even stayed until the end of the night to make sure I got home safely.

. . . 

These past few weeks have felt a little crazy. We've been trying to ramp up Covid-19 booster vaccinations in Nasipit to reach 10,200 people by the first week of October. Progress has been slow but steady. 

One of the things we've been doing is reaching out to each office, each school, each house to ensure that every eligible person gets their booster shot. And with the start of face-to-face classes, it's been a good opportunity to give small talks at each school to boost parents' and teachers' confidence in the vaccines.

This journey has taken me to so many places in Nasipit and allowed me to meet so many new people. And as someone who is physically averse to public speaking, I've just had to stifle my insecurities - even just for a short while - and be confident in myself. 

At one point, we journeyed to Sitio Salaysayon, the farthest sitio in Nasipit. It's a perilous 2-hour habal-habal ride. These photos do not capture the craziness of the journey. 

But at the end of it all, I am incredibly thankful for these new experiences. Being a community doctor is truly an exciting experience - probably more for the doctor than for the community. 

I can't say it enough: I think Doctors to the Barrios (DTTB) benefit more from the DTTB experience than the actual barrios. 

Personally, I've loved my time as a barrio doctor. With the amount of personal growth I've had - and the good salary - I don't see myself working any other job soon. 

The work isn't for everyone. As a community doctor, you have to be comfortable facing a high degree of uncertainty. You have to be flexible with your time and flexible with your personality. I'll probably talk about this stuff more in a future blog. But for aspiring doctors out there - or even current doctors - please do consider taking on public health work. Consider primary care work. It's just as important as specialist work, and it doesn't require another 4-5 years of being an underpaid overworked hospital slave. 

 . . . 

As a side note, I want to introduce you readers to my friends Alberto and Sarah, who I went to college and med school with. They joined the Doctors to the Barrios program a year after I did. Nabudol ko sila into joining me in Caraga, even though they'd never even been in the region before. 

They're almost two years into their DTTB stay while I'm almost done with mine. Whenever we meet up, we exchange stories from our areas and I take solace in the company of fellow government newcomers who have suddenly found themselves in the weird position of Officer in Charge of an entire public health system. I find that our meet-ups, while infrequent, help me recharge and make me braver to face the challenges of the next few days.

Thanks for keeping me sane, guys.

. . . 

With only 111 days left in my contract (roughly 3 months), I'm getting more and more sentimental each day. I have a rough sketch of what my future work is going to be but I'm hesitant to declare it until I'm absolutely certain. 

Until then, I'll continue keeping my sweaty head down, doing the quiet work that needs to be done. 

And if you're still reading, thank you! I started this blog post not knowing where it would lead, and yet here you still are. Thanks for making it this far.

Til the next post. :)