Combat Life Saver

There are several things that I learned about myself in the past week. One: I can be a human pin cushion (as in literally); two: I know how to insert a 6 inch tube inside the nose of a person; three: if in case I do not become a soldier, I can be a nurse and then finally: I'm loving the Army.
I spent the last week going through the different skills that we will need when we become Officers of the Philippine Army. While I was bored with tracing all the streams and roads of Olongapo in a piece of plastic acetate for our Advanced Map Reading Class, there was some kind of thrill when we finally had our Combat Life Saving Instructions. Yes, combat life saving, some kind of first aid in combat situations.

The good thing about the enemies of the state is that they seldom inflict that much damage on our troops. In instances where our military units have been at a disadvantage, it has been mostly due to compromises brought about by sympathizers who give information to the enemy regarding our soldiers. In most cases, our casualties are due to improper handling of situations that need immediate medical attention, that is first aid. And so, there goes the reason for studying Combat Life Saving.

Most common cause of death is excessive bleeding which leads to loss of blood and shock, and then the improper handling of fractures. Another consideration is the safety of our men. I mean, a soldier will be more confident fighting side by side with you if he knows that you can take care of him in case he is wounded. And so I begin to tell my story at learning to be a Combat Life Saver.

As in all First Aid instructions, we had to go back to the ABC's 0f first aid-- the A being Airway or simply making sure that the airway of the patient is clear. I was told that in some cases when a soldier is hit blood blocks the air passage of his body. I was taught some ways to make sure that the airway of the patient is clear and the most exciting of it all is the procedure where a tube called nasopharyngeal is inserted inside the nostril of a person. I was a bit shocked seeing the pictures of the procedure being done not knowing that in a few moments I was to perform it to my classmate.

I started with putting on the gloves, making sure it remains sterile. Then I put lubricant to the "thing" finally beginning to hold it in place ready for insertion. Slowly, it makes its way inside my classmates nose while the rest where looking at the reaction on the face of my "patient." First obstruction and I can see my classmate flinch clearly there was some kind of irritation (or maybe pain). I pulled it back a little, some wiggling action and then it continues to slide. More flinching coupled by a few gasps from the spectators around me and finally its in -- all 6 inches of it. If inserting it was a bit hard, removing it was a breeze, its just pulling it out, no elaborate procedure and then we switch places. I was to be the patient this time. I really should have pictures of that tube inside my nose. Well, that was my first discovery.

In my youth, I once spent a whole day in a hospital bed with a dextrose plugged to me. I never imagined that a day will come that I will be the one to "plug it in." The thing with me is that I am not really that afraid with blood. I remember the time when my niece had a serious cut on her foot and it was oozing with blood. The other adults in the house were screaming at the top of their lungs while I was washing the wounded foot with soap and water, putting some improvised dressing and then sending her to the hospital for stitches.

Again, in front of me are my devices. A needle that is to be attached to a dextrose and my classmates arm. After finding a prominent vein, I took my aim and then blood starts to ooze out of my classmate's arm. I never realized how strong blood flows inside our vein. It was a good hit the first time around and then it was my turn. It was my time to be the human pin cushion.

If I wasn't that terrified with blood and piercings, my classmate was. I could see the needle shaking as he aims it at my arm. When it finally gets in, he seems hesitant to push the needle further inward. First hit, even if around 2 inches of the needle was inside my skin, there was no blood coming out. Second, my arm had a bulge near the point of insertion (which was a sign that something was wrong). Five needles and an already painful arm after it was in, much to my relief (whew!!!) I came back to my room that night wondering why I allowed my classmate to do that to me. Well, I guess that is just how it is.

I really wish that I had pictures of that experience. It may sound weird but going through it kind of allows me to see myself at a level I have not seen myself before. I did not know I had the guts to actually do those things. I now wonder why some of those in the medical profession have not mastered doing those procedures when we practically went through a crash course in performing those. I learned that the only limitation we can have is somewhere between our ears. If we just try doing it, we can be successful.

Next week, we will have the more fun stuff, we will have Close Quarter Battle. I guess that's it for now. I love you people...

Of the people that we meet

In a suddent turn of events, I came to a deep thought on how our life is changed by the people we meet. How are we changed by the people in our lives?

In the year 2003, I enrolled myself to the UP Open University. It was an attempt to get back at studying after having made plans on what to do with my life. I was still very eager to go back to PMA only that I was already entertaining other plans just in case PMA will not push through. There are people that I met and one of them was an interesting person by the name of Joy.

I first met her through Yahoo Messenger. Open University capitalized more on the internet so most of the students were very much into the Internet technology. I do not remember now who started talking to the other but I remember that our discussion was about Dead Stars. She told me about how a dead star can look very much "alive" on earth since light has to travel a great distance. Meaning, although it is dead we still see it as alive in our night sky. A few years later I finally was able to read the literary piece that started that discussion. It was Paz Benitez-Marquez's short story entitled Dead Stars. This short story is recognized in Philippine Literature as the First Short Story in English written by a Filipino. Until this very day, although I haven't been in touch with Joy for years, the short story only reminds me of her.

And then there was my gay room mate. Believe it or not, I had an openly gay person for a room mate back in College. The day I transferred to our room, I immediately got a taste of his (or her) being Homosexual. Inside our bathroom hanged sets of panties. He said that it was more comfortable wearing those than briefs. In my mind, I knew it was because wearing those made him feel more female. In the many months that we shared that room, I was able to understand not just his being Gay but also other things. I was able to see how hard work makes a person, how being the best is infectious. People may find being gay as some kind of deficiency, but believe me when I say that he is one of the few people whose heart is made of gold. Up to this very day, I will not hesitate to have the opportunity to share a room again with him.

There is also my mother who passed away in April 2000. She taught me how to dream BIG.

In the many encounters we have had and we will continue to have with people in this lifetime, all of this will contribute to the kind of person we will become. Good or bad, people leave an imprint in our lives that will change us forever. In each of these encounters we are able to get things from even if some do not help us. The truth remains that people around us contribute to the kind of person we have and will become. So I aske again, how are we changed by the people that we meet?

Joy changed me by being the kind of person that she is. She will forever be part of my knowledge on the First Short Story in English written by a Filipino. My gay room mate will be my constant reminder not to judge the gay people. Of course, my mother will constantly push me not to give up on my dreams. Small or big, people do change us. Its not just those that we have become close, it even includes others as simple as the vendor we buy a chewing gum every time we pass a street near our house. Summing up everything, we are immortalized in people just as people are immortalized inside our hearts out of the interaction we have. The sooner we accept thise, the easier it is to accept that life in this world is connected in some way.

People will come to us in different ways. They will also be taken from us in a snap of a finger. Last sunday, a former classmate and now an upperclass was shot in the head in an ambush in Isabela. Just like that he was gone. All the memories about this person suddenly goes back and although he's gone in each of the hearts of the people he has touched... he lives on.

I guess the whole point in why I write this entry is to understand the reality of the complexities of this life. I, too, can not explain death but I do know that when a person becomes immortalized in our hearts, death is not the end.

A blessed sould tempered by the Grace of God

Last Friday, I attended a wedding of a couple I know from church. They were celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary and they renewed their vows with all of us as witnesses.

I have not been writing much about the area of romance, but it doesn't really mean that I am not thinking about it. I am more confused now than I was a couple of months ago. I guess the more we learn things the more we are able to understand that things like these are not as easy as we think it is.

Coming from a family who did not have an example of a beautiful romantic relationship, my idea of romance has been shaped mostly by imagination and observation. I can not remember any family member who had an ideal romance. Except for those who have seperated and went on to have different spouses (legal or otherwise), those that remain either had histories of unfaithfulness, unwanted pregnancies, elopement, family members widely opposing the relationship and other incidents that do not fall under the category of ideal. But of course, life goes on and I continue to hope that when my turn comes, I will have what I have been praying for. Not that I want it to be ideal, I simply want it to be normal.

And so at my stage now, things can be confusing trying to juggle all the other areas in my life and at the same time always careful that what I do now will not have repercussions on my future of everything in my life. I could say that there are times that I am just afraid. I am afraid because I know that even those that had failed relationships, they too were dreaming of normal ones back when they were young.

So going back to the wedding, I listened to the pastors message, sharing how a marriage is not between two people but between three the other one is, of course, God. I marvel at the video presentation that chronicled the different stages in the marriage of the couple. I know that their 15 years wasn't all heaven, but I also know that in the 15 years that they spent together, the two of them do not regret a thing at marrying one another. Their faces were that of pure joy that can only come from a blessed soul tempered by the grace of God.

How does one really know?

I know that I will not be able to answer the question at this point. I guess no one really knows. As I always say, for each of us we will all experience these things in a different way. Each event in our life will be revealed to us in a manner that will tailor fit the kind of person that we are. In each of these events we will decide based on the wisdom that we have acquired and hope that the result of our decisions will be the one that will bring us closer to our dreams. There will be encounters with people from all walks of life, all telling us different ideas about the same things. We will choose what to believe and act on those beliefs, but still in the end, we will never really know, we can just hope and pray.

I am confused because at a time when things in my life seems to have that direction I have been looking for in the past, I am becoming worried of the other aspect that does not have one... the romance thing that is. I know I am being impatient about this so spare me the criticism. I hate the fact that I am admitting how shallow I can be, but then this is me and I can not help it. Maybe later on I will forget this nonsense, be busy again and time will fly so fast. I do not know, I am just hoping and praying hard that in the end what will happen to me will be, just like the couple in the wedding, a blessed sould tempered by the grace of God

Lamentations of a Squad Leader

A funny thing happened when I was going out of the mess hall this evening. I saw one of our new secondclass cadets shouting at a plebe in complete anger... and then I waved at her... she lost her concentration and started to smile.

I will have to explain. In April 1 of every year we have new plebes who go through the summer camp training. For most of those who have been cadets, this will become the hardest test they will have to go through. Those who will do this job are those that we call as the Plebe detail. The common practice now is that the plebe detail are the secondclass cadets (third years). It is from this experience that we get to derive the reason why the mess hall is mess hell for plebes. And so in the span of two or m0re months, the PMA cadets are divided into two groups, the regular corps which composes the upperclass cadets and the Plebe detail. The mess hall is then divided into something that is the perfect illustration of the difference of being an upperclass and a plebe. On one side (the upperclass side) the cadets are eating comfortably, talking and even smiling at each other. On the other side are stiff plebes who shout at the top of their voice when answering questions. The members of the plebe detail bark out orders while the plebes had to maintain an exaggerated posture of heading up, chinning in and bracing up. To an unexperienced spectator, it would seem that the two sides are on the extreme parts of a spectrum... the perfect contradiction. But of course, all of these are parts of the PMA training that has been their since the Academy's conception. In reality, each perform a task that they had to do as cadets. The task of the upperclass cadets on the other side is simply to eat since they have been through plebehood already, while those on the other side are the plebes and their tormentors (I couldn't think of a better term... sorry)

In reality, the shouting on the other side are roles that the second class cadets had to take. Instead of simply telling the plebes what to do, it is their job to do it in a manner that will not only be loud and clear but also something that will shake their disposition. It is intended to really confuse them and make a hell out of their life. Last year when I was a member of the plebe detail, my already loud voice had to be louder and it had to possess that certain characteristic that will confuse the plebes. So going back to my story, it was funny because I destroyed the whole act of that secondclass cadet shouting at the plebes by simply waving at her from the other side (sorry mababaw lang talaga ang kaligayahan ko).

Anyway, I wrote a second part to an article that I wrote for the Corps Magazine (Incorporation Issue) last year. It's still about roles that we play as cadets but I place a more personal touch. This is unpublished and this is the first time that this will appear to the public... Enjoy

Me and my three stooges... Plebes I mean: more lamentations of a Squad Leader

There are a two things that I learned from the time I started to wear my second stripe: first, I can only do so much for my plebes what will become of them will be their own personal decision; and second, it is not because of that limitation that I will stop being a squad leader to my plebes, I will persist until I am relieved of my duty.

In a similar article that I wrote for the Incorporation of my seven plebes as a member of the plebe detail then, I tried to understand what it entails in being a squad leader. This time around, after becoming a squad leader to another set of plebes (three this time), I learned anew and had an experience that has made me realize more things in my journey towards a better leader. These are my lamentations.

When the plebes were incorporated to the Corps last June, I saw my seven plebes distributed to the different companies. The days of summer camp are finally over and the regular academic term began. They had their new squad leaders while I was also given another set of plebes to take care of. With the same attitude I embraced the responsibility promising myself that I will exert the same effort in doing what I know I should do to these young cadets. I thought that it will be easier since this time around there are only three of them… so I thought. It seemed that I was in unfamiliar territory. It seemed that this was a totally new environment and I had to learn again.

My three plebes are the tallest ones in the crop of plebes that are in my Company. Each of them had different backgrounds and like all plebes, forced into the reality of cadetship, this time around not just to adjust to military life (which was one of the main thrusts of summer camp) but also to reach the standard of excellence that is expected of a cadet of PMA.

Unlike the situation in summer camp, I wasn’t the boss. As I was trying to do my job as squad leader, I also had to deal with new set of company mates because of the recent company realignment. I had to adjust not just to being a squad leader to three plebes, but also a member of a company with new faces and different culture. There were things that had to be done and just as always, expectations that had to be met.

My plebes were not that different really (except that they were tall) they were ordinary plebes who like me three years ago also struggled at the adjustment from being carefree to regimented. They had a hard time coping up and I also had a hard time trying to think of the best way to teach them what they have to learn. From the uniform that I had to scrutinize up to the last crease, to the shoes that do not shine the way it should, all of these things were not easy to teach. And then there is also the much compliance that they had to do. From those that were given by the firstclassmen, to offenses that they had to compensate, all of these were parts of a confusing scheme that will definitely shake a person’s identity.

One of my plebes, the youngest in the bunch, was from a family that we can say as sheltered. Not that they were rich it’s just that his family raised him in a way where he was not given much pressure. His family did everything to keep him away from life’s problems. He wasn’t hard headed; he was just someone who was not used to being ordered. Here comes his squad leader (me) who would shout at him at the simplest wrong move, give him a long lecture on why things had to be done in a certain way and then punish him severely after wards. It took sometime for me to realize why he is like that and again, talking to his parents (and writing I should say) proved to be useful. From the bits and pieces of the stories that I gathered regarding his family, I was able to understand why he acts the way he acts. His response to my methods was something characterized by fear. He would practically do everything to escape my wrath, sometimes to the point of lying. More than trying to make him “snappy” I was more concerned in making him understand the importance of facing our fears and doing what has to be done despite these fears. That was my first struggle.

In dealing with these three, I had to teach them teamwork and at the same time make them understand the value of the things that they are doing. Unlike in summer camp where their entire world somewhat revolved on what the squad leader teaches them, they now enjoyed more freedom and with it they are also able to interact with more people. I have to deal with establishing a reputation so that my word will have more authority than the others, which was the second struggle.

I can not overemphasize more the role of the squad leader in training the plebes. The struggles that I faced, I believe were not just personal struggles but I guess in some way are also the same struggles that my classmates were facing in going about their roles as squad leaders. When I look back now, I still wonder how I have endured all those times when I just felt I had the worst job in the world. When I first see them in their civilian clothes during reception, I thought changing them was impossible. Now, almost a year after, they smile at me when they see me. Not because I was very kind to them, but because we have come into terms with the reality that our jobs, them as plebes and mine as a squad leader, was part of a glorious scheme that has endured and stood the test of time. More importantly, all of us have gone through a sacred rite of entry that nobody will be able to understand unless he or she has gone through it themselves.

Today is four days before graduation. The day after that, my seven plebes in summer camp and my three during the regular corps will have their first stripe as new thirdclassmen (yes, I am proud to say none of them resigned or got discharged, its not because I am just good, it’s simply luck). One will be taking the removal exams but I am confident he will pass it. In 01 April, another set of plebes will come and a new cycle begins. I will move on to become a firstclass cadet. There will be new squad leaders and when Incorporation Day comes, my then plebes will become the new tigers. I will see them with their buddies (the new plebes) and will just hope that what I taught them will have some reflection in the way they will handle their new role. I am hoping that at some point, I have become a part of the person that they will become. Well, I could just hope and as I end my lamentations, I look up to God and thank Him for everything.

The life that I took is not simple, yet it has revealed to me facets of life that I will never encounter have I lived my life differently. I guess in the end the person that we become is still a result of the experiences that we had. Definitely, as I put an end at being a squad leader, the experience has made me a better person and I hope the ten plebes that I encountered also changed for the better

Comments that ring

This blog entry sprung from the comment made on the entry before this one. I just realized how things can go off hand.

I wonder now how things as simple as not eating some food that is offered can undermine the kind of soldier I will become. I wonder how the simple issue on doing something for the sake of politeness can boil down to the kind of person I am. I wonder how all this things connect to the kind of convictions I have. I wonder further why a simple ranting about events that happen to my life (about something that annoyed me) can be a basis of the kind of person I am. Or is it just another case of someone waiting for me to say something wrong in this blog and then use my own words against me?

Just to reiterate, the event that I was talking about was a simple thing that I hated. It wasn't about moral convictions, it was more of releasing the sad feelings I had about that event and at the same time getting my message accross to the people that I might have offended for refusing their offer to eat something. To clear things out, the reason I wrote that in my blog is because I do not want them to misinterpret me (they read this blog) by my refusal for they are people that I deeply care about. I would have not experienced so many of my joys as a cadet. Without them supporting me and giving me all the tender and loving care I need, I live a miserable life. And so I ask again how are these things entirely connected to the kind of soldier I will become and to my convictions as a person?

As a writer, I do know that the words that I write reflect the kind of person I am. The ideas that I present are little pieces of my convictions and the things that I consider as important. This blog has been a vehicle of so many of these ideas that to a certain extent I could say that my life has been written for the past five years throught this. But then, I must say, that this blog does not give the right to people to make judgments on the kind of person I am. They may not necessarilly agree with everything that I present but then they are entitled to that. I do not really care if they consider me as some prick who is so loud in his blog for the simple reason that they do not really know me and the most important thing... THIS IS MY BLOG. If you can not handle what I write then STAY AWAY.

Now on the aspect of me becoming a good soldier... YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY IDEA. I am declaring it now that I will be good but despite that you can choose to believe me or you can conclude that I am just trying to please people. But the truth of the matter is you can not do anything if I will be good or bad but the good thing is that I am assuring you that I will be good. I will not burden myself with the anxiety of thinking what people think about me but I will simply do what I know is right based on my convictions as a person. In the end, I will be judged not on how likable I have become but who I am as a person in the sight of God. If you really care whether or not I will be good don't harass me, instead guide me and pray for me.

This was fun...