Ever feel like you’re stuck in a jeepney going nowhere? Stuck in traffic, everyone’s grumpy, and you’re sandwiched between a singing manok and a Lola with enough bayong to feed a barangay?
Yeah, that was my life. Everyone had me figured out: “Si Juan? Ay nako, sira ulo ‘yan!” And honestly? They weren’t wrong.
But then something shifted. It’s like finding a P1000 bill in your old pants – unexpected but welcome.
This, my friends, is the story of how a certified sira ulo like me became a doctor.
The Day the Sira Ulo Decided to Become a Doctor
Let’s be real, nobody saw this coming, least of all me. It wasn’t some childhood dream. I didn’t faint at the sight of blood (though the smell of isaw…different story).
Becoming a doctor felt like climbing Mount Apo – daunting, exhausting, and with a high chance of encountering weird creatures (mostly classmates, let’s be honest).
But here’s the thing about us “sira ulos.” We like to prove people wrong, mostly ourselves.
So, I locked in. Studied like my life depended on it because, newsflash, it kind of did. The pressure was on – from my family, my future self who didn’t want to work in a call center, and that Tita who kept asking, “Kailan ka mag-a-asawa?” (As if passing the boards would magically make me husband material).
The Physician Board Exams: Judgment Day (Or So They Say)
Imagine this: You’re in a room colder than a freezer in a palengke, surrounded by people who look like they haven’t slept in days (spoiler alert: they haven’t). The only sounds are nervous coughs and the frantic scratching of pencils.
That’s the Physician Board Exams in a nutshell – terrifying, nerve-wracking, and enough to make you want to down an entire gallon of sago’t gulaman.
Days blurred into an endless cycle of studying, panicking, and praying to every santo I could think of (even Santo Niño, and I’m not even Catholic).
But here’s the thing about pressure, it can either crush you like a chicharon or make you shine bright like a pandesal fresh out of the oven.
And me? Well, I’m nothing if not resilient. Like that dang cockroach you just can’t kill, I persisted.
The Moment Everything Changed: Passing the Boards and Shocking the Entire Barangay
The day the results came out, I was a mess. I couldn’t eat (and for those who know me, that’s a BIG deal). Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t even muster the energy to argue with the neighborhood tambay.
Then, I saw it. My name. On the list of passers.
“No way,” I whispered, convinced it was some cruel joke. “This must be fake news.”
But it wasn’t. I, the resident sira ulo, had actually done it.
Suddenly, everyone wanted a piece of me. Titas I’d never met were congratulating my mom. Uncles were slapping me on the back so hard I swore my spine rearranged itself. And that one Tita? She was already planning my wedding (joke lang, Tita…I think?).
Life After the Boards: More Than Just a White Coat and a Fancy Title
Becoming a doctor wasn’t just about memorizing medical jargon or mastering the art of deciphering messy handwriting (doctors, I’m looking at you).
It was about transformation – a metamorphosis more dramatic than any teleserye plot twist.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just “Juan, yung sira ulo.” I was “Doc Juan.” People listened to me (sometimes). They respected me (most of the time). They even asked for my medical opinion (though I still wouldn’t trust myself to diagnose a common cold).
But the biggest change wasn’t how others saw me – it was how I saw myself.
Why Becoming a Doctor Was the Best “Sira Ulo” Decision Ever
Here’s the thing: Passing those boards didn’t magically erase my quirks or transform me into a saint. I’m still me – just a more confident, slightly less clueless version.
Becoming a doctor taught me things no textbook ever could:
- Hard work pays off (even if you procrastinate like your life depends on it).
- It’s okay to ask for help (even if you’re used to doing everything yourself).
- Sometimes, the people who doubt you the most are the ones who push you to succeed (thanks, judgmental Titas!).
But most importantly, it taught me that even sira ulos can achieve incredible things if we set our minds to it.
So, to all the self-proclaimed “sira ulos” out there, listen up:
Don’t let anyone tell you what you can or can’t do. Not your relatives, not your neighbors, and definitely not that one Tito who keeps giving unsolicited life advice.
You are capable of amazing things, even if you don’t believe it yet.
And who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be writing your own story about how you defied the odds and became the best darn [insert dream profession here] this side of the archipelago.
Just remember to invite me to your success party. After all, I am a doctor now. Someone’s gotta be on standby for when the celebratory karaoke session gets too wild.