Posted February 14, 2002. It took close to 8 years for our class yearbook to finally see print. It did not contain a lot of pages than the one the editors envisioned a long time ago but we were more than satisfied. After the editors ran off with their husbands and migrated somewhere else, the original plan went down the drain. It took a group of resourceful and determined classmates to put the yearbook together and trace about 23 people who thought they can get away with not paying the yearbook fee.

     I was one of a few who got their copies fresh from the printing press oven. Hot off the press, still smelling of fresh ink. I showed the yearbook to my wife, Jeanie. She never got to know most of my classmates because we met towards the end of my junior internship when she was a volunteer nurse at the University Hospital. As a normal couple, my wife and I disagree on a lot of things but we definitely agreed, without question, on one thing. After flipping through the pages of the yearbook, my wife said, "Kadamu' gali' sang mga gwapa sa mga classmates mo!" I couldn't agree more. It was like Copernicus saying the earth rotates on an axis and revolves around a stationary sun. It is the truth, people, and nothing but.

     And it is not because they wore makeup or had their best smiles for the photo shoot. I think I have all the bragging rights here. If you have proof, feel free to disprove me but my batch (1992) had so many attractive and desirable ladies. So many, in fact, if they did not go to medical school, the Laker Girls will be out of job.

"I told her I love her more than any basketball game. I never loved any of them as much as I do her, up to and including the playoffs."

     I scanned through the yearbook again the other night together with my wife and how glad I was to be blessed with a good memory. This day being Valentine's Day, I tried to reminisce the good old love-filled days. Classmates falling in love with classmates. Residents falling in love with our interns (one had to actually skip duty just to be at our...nevermind...he never got her). A well-documented playboy having a hard time wooing a classmate (he got her). Another well-documented playboy switching girlfriends (as far as I know now, he never got either). Two gentlemen-classmates nearly getting to blows over a lady-classmate (neither got her). Heck, we even made the headlines in an early morning news broadcast of Bombo Radyo (he never got her).

     In all modesty, I'll not brag for our gentlemen. Although a classmate suggested that if I'll brag about our ladies, I should brag about our gentlemen as well. No, I won't do that. Let me just say this, in fairness to our gentlemen, GQ would never run out of cover models for the next 12 months.

     Before I get thrown into jail, I'll not mention any names here. If you love associating names with certain situations in the past, that's your problem. Besides, it's the past. Let's just talk and laugh (or cry, as the case may be) about it. A good buddy made the fatal mistake of allowing me to speak during his wedding. Since I can actually co-write his biography, I spilled everything about his past. All in good, clean fun, of course.

     It is the truth when I told my wife she was my first real Valentine's Day date. When she saw our class yearbook, she did not believe it at first. If I told her I did not bother to find a date among my classmates, I would be lying. I tried to find a date. I prayed hard to have a date. In fact, I asked a classmate to be my date. I had no luck, brother. A classmate told me once, I never had sex appeal. What sex appeal? I had to look for the definition of sex appeal and somebody told me, 'you've got sex appeal if you look like a sex organ.' Well, I probably don't have one, but I think that definition is baloney.

     Ok, I'll fess up. I did date someone once upon a Valentine's Day, but it's not worth remembering. For 2 short hours I felt how it was like to be George Clooney for a change. She said she would only go if it's a lunch date. I wanted a dinner date but I said fine, who am I to complain? Since I have this investigative reporter's instinct ever since, I found out later that she had the dinner date reserved for her real date (translation: boyfriend). That hurt. It was like talking finally to the apple of your eye in a very intimate setting (nah...just a restaurant beside ShoeMart) only to find out later that she's getting married to Freddie Prinze, Jr.

     Class of 1992 was full of love stories. If you ask me where would I be, if I am not doing what I do now, I would probably be writing scripts for 'Maala-ala Mo Kaya'. But I apologize if can't tell you any, simply because I was never a part of any story appropriate for Valentine's Day during my stay in medical school that may fuel your interest. I was not part of that 'Bombo Radyo' blind item. I was not the one who threatened a classmate (I'm exaggerating) if he keeps on seeing his ex-girlfriend. I was not the one who baked and gifted a classmate with a Garfield-shaped chocolate mousse cake to express his love (that was some talent).

     I met my future wife at the ICU of the University Hospital a few days before the end of my junior internship. I felt a terrible, undescribable feeling the first time I saw her, I was not sure at first if it was love, but I made sure there was an extra respirator in case I'd collapse. I did not get to talk to her that night but I kept my eye on her, I totally forgot which patient I was monitoring.

     I went back to the Interns' Quarters mumbling repeatedly 'not again, not again!'. If Britney Spears was famous at that time, I probably would have hummed 'Oops, I did it again!'.

     My thinking then was I was setting myself up to fail again. It's not easy liking somebody like me. How would you like a man who doesn't have any sex appeal? How would you like to be married to a man who will skip dinner for a basketball game? How would you like a man who thinks he looks dignified just because he has a stethoscope wrapped around his neck?

     I did it the old-fashioned way, without all the mockity-mock, only with pure love and sincerity. I told her I love her more than any basketball game. I never loved any of them as much as I do her, up to and including the playoffs.

     On my way home one day, "Unanswered Prayers", a country song was playing on the radio. Part of the lyrics said, "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers...Remember when you're talking to the Man upstairs...Just because He may not answer doesn't mean He doesn't care... Some of God's greatest gifts...are unanswered prayers.."

     Back then I had lots of unanswered prayers. Now I know why.

     When I got home that night, my wife, Jeanie and four-year old daughter, Claudine were already asleep. I looked at them and had to wipe a tear or two.

     Then and there I thanked the Good Lord for the gifts in my life.

     Happy Valentine's Day!

     Dr. Kadil 'Jojo' Sinolinding, Jr. (1989) wrote, "I find refreshing thoughts from your column (Rant and teach). I agree, en toto, with your column. These are the best days of our lives as a medical professional. We challenged, we fought, we tried, we failed, tried again, we succeeded and triumphed. To the incoming interns, don't be discouraged by the initial process of your being a doctor. In the real world (when you are a full-bloodied WVSU grad doctor) it is nothing but the same or even worse. The venue and the people around maybe different but the process are the same and you got to go through it. So good luck to all and keep on writing so that others may reminisce and be reminded of their youthful years."

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     The author's e-mail address is at drgarcia@wvsumedaa.com

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