In my mail the other day:
Dear Student,
I am writing to inform you that the District of Columbia Department of
Public Health (DOH) notified Georgetown University last week that they
have begun an investigation related to a suspected case of pulmonary
tuberculosis (TB) in a non-residential graduate student at Georgetown
University. At the request of DOH and based on criteria defined by
public health officials, we have already provided names of individuals
in our community who may have had sufficient contact with the
individual to be at risk for possible exposure or infection. Over the
weekend we notified that group of individuals of our action, alerted
them to the fact that they should expect to hear directly from DOH or
their local health agency in the coming days, and urged them to
cooperate with the recommendations of public health officials.
After consultation with DOH, we waited until today to notify the
greater Georgetown University community about this matter in order to
allow public health officials time to focus on the limited number of
individuals they recommend for medical screening. Other than this
limited group of individuals, public health officials inform us that
there is no need for the majority of the Georgetown community to take
any specific medical precautions at this time. Nonetheless we think
it is important for you to be aware that this event has occurred, and
that we are in regular contact with DOH to coordinate our efforts.
Tuberculosis is a bacterial infection that usually affects the lungs
and is spread from person to person through the air. This can occur by
sharing air space for an extended period of time in an enclosed
setting. The bacteria are placed in the air when a person with TB of
the lungs coughs or sneezes. You cannot contract TB by touching an
inanimate object. Tuberculosis can be cured if treated properly. For
more information about TB, including symptoms and treatment, please
visit the Centers of Disease Control website at http://cdc.gov/tb/
In an effort to provide an opportunity for members of the Georgetown
community to have questions answered we have arranged to hold an
information session on campus when classes resume on Thursday, January
17 at 6pm in ICC Room 105. In the meantime if you have any specific
concerns please contact the D.C. TB Control Program at (202) 698-4040
during business hours, Monday through Friday 8:15am-4:45 pm. You may
also contact the Student Health Center at (202) 687-2200 during
business hours.
Please know that Georgetown officials will monitor the situation and
continue to work closely with DOH as their investigation continues.
Thank you for your cooperation and understanding.
Sincerely,
James C. Welsh, M.D.
Assistant Vice President for Student Health Services
Incidentally, both my fever and horrible case of hacking are making me feel quite tubercular. Gi sip-on pud ko. MAMA!!!! Gi TB kaha ko?
In other (happier) news, I got my grades: two As and an A-. I'm incredibly surprised at my A in History of the Book/Theory of the Text, but I am not complaining.
I'm tired. I'm heading home to sleep the day away.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
a different type of glory
The responsorial psalm today was taken from psalm 19: "All the heavens proclaim the glory of the Lord". In my mind I was thinking of that Sufjan song, Casimir Pulaski Day.
On the floor at the great divide
With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
I am crying in the bathroom
In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window
In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing
Oh the glory that the lord has made
And the complications when I see his face
In the morning in the window
Oh the glory when he took our place
But he took my shoulders and he shook my face
And he takes and he takes and he takes
**
when katie called to ask if i was alone and if i could please go to a private place, i already knew something was wrong. so when she said in a strained voice, "lola's brain dead" , all i could say in an small empty displaced voice was "okay". a confession: the moment i put down the phone i went back to watching tv, you know that stupid show where anne heche is a dj in some hick town. by the time the hour was spent, my head hurt from trying too hard to laugh at jokes that weren't funny in the least. so i called mom, who said that lola's heart stubbornly kept beating. "your lola's heart is strong", she said, and i knew she was trying her best to smile (poor mom i wish i could go to her) but i think we both knew it was the end. a few hours later my lola's strong heart stopped beating, and mine broke once again (is that possible? how many times can it be broken? i asked colleen and she told me the heart can only be truly broken once--collectively, ours were broken at the same time and it's almost been ten years oh my god-- the hurt one feels, as sharp as it was the first time around, is just a reminder of the damage that cannot be undone ). the heart. i swear sometimes we overestimate its resilience.
my mind tells me to make a eulogy of some sort, and tell you stories of my grandmother, about how she was so good at cards that she gambled each week to bring in extra money, how she sewed dolls made out of cloth for her daughters, how she would always sneak in treats from her sari sari store( bazooka and judge and piatos) in my bag every time i left cagayan, how she looked forward to watching boxing matches on the television, how she and my father used to play scrabble, how my favorite pastime as a child was watching her as she went through her ritual of preparing betel nut leaves which she would chew and eventually spit out into a tin can, how she insisted on speaking english to the doctor from manila who operated on her eyes, how the only time i saw her cry like a child was when my grandfather died but the stories are too many, and my words fail to bring her back. she was -is! the heart insists, offended by the past tense - wonderful and fascinating and strong and my heart, as damaged as it is, is with her.
On the floor at the great divide
With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
I am crying in the bathroom
In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window
In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing
Oh the glory that the lord has made
And the complications when I see his face
In the morning in the window
Oh the glory when he took our place
But he took my shoulders and he shook my face
And he takes and he takes and he takes
**
when katie called to ask if i was alone and if i could please go to a private place, i already knew something was wrong. so when she said in a strained voice, "lola's brain dead" , all i could say in an small empty displaced voice was "okay". a confession: the moment i put down the phone i went back to watching tv, you know that stupid show where anne heche is a dj in some hick town. by the time the hour was spent, my head hurt from trying too hard to laugh at jokes that weren't funny in the least. so i called mom, who said that lola's heart stubbornly kept beating. "your lola's heart is strong", she said, and i knew she was trying her best to smile (poor mom i wish i could go to her) but i think we both knew it was the end. a few hours later my lola's strong heart stopped beating, and mine broke once again (is that possible? how many times can it be broken? i asked colleen and she told me the heart can only be truly broken once--collectively, ours were broken at the same time and it's almost been ten years oh my god-- the hurt one feels, as sharp as it was the first time around, is just a reminder of the damage that cannot be undone ). the heart. i swear sometimes we overestimate its resilience.
my mind tells me to make a eulogy of some sort, and tell you stories of my grandmother, about how she was so good at cards that she gambled each week to bring in extra money, how she sewed dolls made out of cloth for her daughters, how she would always sneak in treats from her sari sari store( bazooka and judge and piatos) in my bag every time i left cagayan, how she looked forward to watching boxing matches on the television, how she and my father used to play scrabble, how my favorite pastime as a child was watching her as she went through her ritual of preparing betel nut leaves which she would chew and eventually spit out into a tin can, how she insisted on speaking english to the doctor from manila who operated on her eyes, how the only time i saw her cry like a child was when my grandfather died but the stories are too many, and my words fail to bring her back. she was -is! the heart insists, offended by the past tense - wonderful and fascinating and strong and my heart, as damaged as it is, is with her.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
ugh.
I should be reading Frankestein right now but I'm blogging. Sure, sure, things may have changed drastically over the course of a few months. I have: moved to a new country (a different continent, actually), enrolled in grad school, gotten bangs, lived by myself (to some degree) and the list goes on. Some things, however, remain incontestable, irrefutable truths in my universe, such as my personal theorem When you have too many things to do, procrastinate. Each day is an opportunity to prove its validity.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
It looked warm enough as I looked out of my window this morning—the sun was shining, boys were playing football on the field, girls were out in hoodies, short shorts and flip flops (standard American girl apparel, as Susanna pointed out). The moment I stepped out of Centro Maria, however, the brutal wind cut through my cheap Surplus store sweater and I immediately wanted to go back inside, dress in my pjs and a thick woolen sweater and skip mass altogether. But being the good (guilt ridden) Catholic girl that I am, I shivered my way to (and throughout) mass but tried to suck it up and consider it as my penance.
Now I know why people check the temperature constantly here. In the Philippines, no one really bothers. No one I know goes beyond, “Ang init init naman ngayon a, mag sando na nga ako” or “woohoo, sweater weather!” or ‘asa akong paying? Yati, nagulan na pud”—yun lang. Its either hot or cold, no complications.
Menu for the day: Had coffee, cake (yes, cake), apple juice, and a banana for breakfast. Lunch was uncooked pizza, chicken arroz caldo or something to that effect and soda. Granola bar, chocolate chip ice cream for snack. Dinner was the best: hot and spicy century tuna and hot jasmine rice, care of Sheila, Kristine and Neneth.
Did my laundry today, cleaned my room and read one reading. Damn I’m lagging behind my reading schedule. Maybe that's because I get sucked into doing unnecessary things, like going out to the Filipino store, or playing the guitar or writing pointless blog entries about my mundane life. It was unbearably cold in the laundry room. I wonder how I’m going to take doing my laundry in the winter time; not looking forward to it at all. When I took the clothes out of the dryer, was greeted by a blast of warmth. I wished I could magically turn into a little Thumbelina-like creature, enter inside the dryer and roll around the freshly laundered, toasty clothes.
*
Even though I’ve been outwardly happy, I’m not feeling well. Talking with lola on the phone shook me up and it made me feel so far away—which I am—and helpless. “I’m on the bed. The doctors are making me take strong medicine” was all I could decipher. I want to be there with her, snuggle under the covers with my lola and my mom and my aunts and uncles. Now.
Now I know why people check the temperature constantly here. In the Philippines, no one really bothers. No one I know goes beyond, “Ang init init naman ngayon a, mag sando na nga ako” or “woohoo, sweater weather!” or ‘asa akong paying? Yati, nagulan na pud”—yun lang. Its either hot or cold, no complications.
Menu for the day: Had coffee, cake (yes, cake), apple juice, and a banana for breakfast. Lunch was uncooked pizza, chicken arroz caldo or something to that effect and soda. Granola bar, chocolate chip ice cream for snack. Dinner was the best: hot and spicy century tuna and hot jasmine rice, care of Sheila, Kristine and Neneth.
Did my laundry today, cleaned my room and read one reading. Damn I’m lagging behind my reading schedule. Maybe that's because I get sucked into doing unnecessary things, like going out to the Filipino store, or playing the guitar or writing pointless blog entries about my mundane life. It was unbearably cold in the laundry room. I wonder how I’m going to take doing my laundry in the winter time; not looking forward to it at all. When I took the clothes out of the dryer, was greeted by a blast of warmth. I wished I could magically turn into a little Thumbelina-like creature, enter inside the dryer and roll around the freshly laundered, toasty clothes.
*
Even though I’ve been outwardly happy, I’m not feeling well. Talking with lola on the phone shook me up and it made me feel so far away—which I am—and helpless. “I’m on the bed. The doctors are making me take strong medicine” was all I could decipher. I want to be there with her, snuggle under the covers with my lola and my mom and my aunts and uncles. Now.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Disclaimer: this is a boring blog.
My day began with a miracle: I woke up just in time for breakfast. Thankfully, I'm getting the hang of the sisters' strict schedules. Scarfed down 2 waffles with too much syrup (not that there's anything wrong with that), two cups of black coffee and a bowl frosted mini wheats (which, strangely, I love. In fact, I'm craving a bowl right now).
For lunch, I met up with Tita Alma at the Eastern Market. Finally, a familiar face! I had an egg white mediterranean omelet. We talked about Mom, the eunuchs in India and how kids today have lost their imagination. She bought me a bag full of white peaches.
On my way home I chased a squirrel with my camera. with their twitchy noses and their curly, plume-like tails, they seem almost unreal, like creatures from a Dr. Seuss book. This one I chased was particularly adorable; it was so cautious in approaching me and kept on looking at me quizzically--i felt like I was being evaluated by this tiny little thing. When I was done taking pictures, it kept on hopping behind me. Oo, close na kami. I felt obliged to bid goodbye to my friend.
For lunch, I met up with Tita Alma at the Eastern Market. Finally, a familiar face! I had an egg white mediterranean omelet. We talked about Mom, the eunuchs in India and how kids today have lost their imagination. She bought me a bag full of white peaches.
On my way home I chased a squirrel with my camera. with their twitchy noses and their curly, plume-like tails, they seem almost unreal, like creatures from a Dr. Seuss book. This one I chased was particularly adorable; it was so cautious in approaching me and kept on looking at me quizzically--i felt like I was being evaluated by this tiny little thing. When I was done taking pictures, it kept on hopping behind me. Oo, close na kami. I felt obliged to bid goodbye to my friend.
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