Moth in sojourn
Tower of booksa lizard stalks
the moth in sojourn
I was already wide awake even before snoozing the alarm at seven in the morning. I saw how golden the sun was through the apartment’s frosted glass window. It was a signal to start the day with a prayer and mindfulness to somehow alleviate the anxiety that comes with the review and preparations for the Physician Licensure Exam (PLE) in March 2022. I picked up a red ballpen to mark “D-Day” in less than a month. It’s the same pen that bleeds for every mistake I made in yesterday’s anatomy and pharmacology practice exams.
As I opened my study planner, I couldn’t help but notice the seemingly long list of backlogs that were on my “to-do” list. Then I saw the sea of red stickers on my planner with the words: “STUDY,” “STUDY,” “STUDY!” Anxiety began building up slowly. Evidently, my fingers were trembling as I slowly flipped the pages. My heart did not give me a break either, it was thumping harder than the night before. My legs were restless too. These teleported me back to a few months ago when I was supposed to take the October/November 2021 boards, but the odds decided to go against my favor—four weeks into the exams, my family was stricken with COVID-19 infection. At that instant, everything became a blur.
almost there…
stopping by
aging orchids
I continued scanning the pages of my planner. Together with the red stickers were the scattered green and yellow ones. I paused. I tried to calm myself. I took some moments for slow, deep breaths and read the words printed on the green ones: “LABAN!” LABAN!” “LABAN!” and then continued on reading the yellows with: “KAYOD!” “KAYOD!” “KAYOD!” After a while, I was redirected back to the present moment; I was redirected back to my “WHYs.” Why was I doing this again in the first place? I asked myself. I know deep in my heart, I already have an answer. I am doing this for my family, and my community as well. To make my dear parents proud and finally ease them from the financial burden of raising three kids and sending me and my big brother to medical school. Furthermore, to help those in our community who are less fortunate in order for them to have access to quality health care. I know from there on I was ready to face the new day and its challenges.
As days went by, I was able to develop self-regulation and became more intentional in all of my study sessions. I was religious with my schedule. I would spend at least six to eight hours a day studying—reading handouts, answering practice questions, and doing active recalls. Surprisingly, I was in a state of flow. I kept building on the newfound momentum and further continued the good study habit I developed. I’d say, in general, I have studied smartly, in which I prioritized the most tested topics first, and the trivial ones last; and of course with adequate rest days to avoid burnout. The seemingly long hours, days, and weeks of struggle had gone by quite quickly. Before I knew it, I was already inside the exam hall, carefully shading boxes on the answer sheet. The four-day exam has commenced.
The PLE consists of 12 subjects, three subjects a day. Two hours were allotted for each subject, with one hour of rest in between. And during these breaks, it was when I realized PLE is not just a mere measurement of one’s fund of knowledge but also a constant reexamination and reflection of oneself—in the past, at present, and in the future ahead. There were bouts of guilt for not taking the basic subjects seriously and dozing off during lectures in med school. There were recurring instances of second-guessing oneself. There was an overwhelming aggregate of mixed feelings. And there were small doses of the excitement of finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
There was a two-week interval between the last day of PLE and the release of exam results; and to distract myself from fretting over the dreaded unknown, I’d made myself busy with getting back to writing short poems and watching anime. Certainly, surviving the exam was a feat itself, but getting through the “waiting game” when all is said and done was another mountain to overcome.
It was already past eight in the morning, and I was still in bed. Half-awake, I noticed the alarm has been snoozed several times. While looking at the ceiling, I contemplated. My mind and body knew that the dopamine surge of passing the boards had subsided. After the dine-outs, binge-watching, and well-wishes, it was again time to decide which summit to conquer next. Although my heart was filled with gladness, my headspace was entirely filled with “what’s next?”
mountain top
soft clouds
mask my worries
Anthony Q. Rabang, 29, is a first-year resident doctor at the UP-Philippine General Hospital. He writes haiku as a hobby, and as a form of mindfulness.
