Posted March 14, 2002. Do you still remember your very first interview in your quest to enter the hallowed halls of Roxas Hall? I know I do mine. There were five of us applicants on one side of a long table and three consultant-professors on the other side. I thought then that this is a make-or-break situation. This will decide if I'll continue to just walk to school or take two jeepney rides to that other medical school.

     Two undergrad classmates who were scheduled at the same time passed by my boarding house on their way to Roxas Hall for the interview. One had the gall to comment on the shirt I was wearing exclaiming, "you are wearing that for the interview?", at the same time opening up my closet and picking a polo shirt I have never tried for decades. Frankly speaking, I didn't see anything wrong with what I was wearing. A gray shirt with a picture of Larry Bird on it, that, at first glance, looks like Dr. Hubero.

     True enough, when we arrived at Roxas Hall, most of the ladies were elegantly dressed, all you needed was a red carpet and you have a ceremony for the Oscars. And it's not your typical Juniors-Seniors prom getups. Those dresses may have been picked up directly from a Princess Diana auction. Damn, I thought. I would never make it.

     We finally got to see the faces of our interviewers, three of them, after anxiously waiting for our turn. One consultant/professor looked like he came directly from his tennis match, shorts and all, I couldn't help but think why would one 'dress-to-kill' just to stare at him from across the table. His shirt even had Planter's Products printed on it, something he probably picked up for free from Crown Agricultural Supply.

"To', kun naga-istorya gani' ang Mayor, ang konsehal pamati' lang. Basi' nalipat ka, Konsehal ka lang di."

     If I remember it right, I was asked only once, something along the lines of "Why do you want to be doctor?" During an informal survey we conducted then, that was the most common question asked. Actually, if you are good at mind-reading, what those consultants actually asked you was, "What the hell were you thinking?".

     Which brings us to the second most common question - again along the lines of "If you indeed finish medical school and becomes a doctor, what will you do? We are still here when you pass your board and finish your residency. Are you sure you can compete against us? You can't." Those were not the exact words used in the question but you know where I'm going with this. Compressed to one sentence, it sounded the same as the first question, "What the hell were you thinking?"

     Others may misunderstand the question as a bit tacky, marked by cheap showiness on the part of the interviewers. Upon further reflection however, the question actually makes sense. If I was asked that same question, I would have simply answered, 'I'd go back to my home province. There's not too many doctors there.' That's probably why I wasn't asked. They probably expected my answer anyway because they have all your data in front of them. I believe if you are going to ask that question, the interview room was the best forum for it.

     Dr. Alfredo Marte, my favorite "Mayor", loves to start his lectures with that same question, but he used to take it further by answering it himself, - "You'll be jobless!". Now, that's mean, but don't tell me you actually listened to Dr. Marte's lectures. Dr. Marte may have been one of the interviewers then or a regular interviewer until now, but believe me, the "What the hell..." question has been asked by most consultants who happened to sit on that other side of the table.

     Before we go further, let me interrupt and explain why I called Dr. Marte my "favorite Mayor". Dr. Marte has a lot of things on his mind and I doubt if he still remembers my name or, least of all, how I look like. But considering his propensity for repeating his jokes year after year (I once seated near Dr. Mes Granada while Dr. Marte was telling jokes and Mes actually knew the next word or sentence that came out of Dr. Marte's mouth. It was like watching re-runs of M.A.S.H. or I Love Lucy for a hundredth time), he may still remember he called me "Konsehal" for most of my junior and post-graduate internship years.

     Dr. Gerry Gomez and I were restaurant/bar-hopping one night when we stopped by Marina's along Diversion Road. Dr. Marte, Dr. Noel Binayas, and a friend were there, and of course they had quite a fill of spirits already. When their friend left early, Dr. Marte invited Gerry and me to their table. Being just a PGI, I just listened while they talked (I hate to admit it but while listening, I lost track of how many bottles of that amber liquid went down into my system). That's when the discussion got heated. Dr. Marte said something that I disagreed. Now, I write my columns sober, just imagine if I have a keg of the amber liquid in my system, I can actually be one of those blabbermouths hosting CNN's Crossfire. Dr. Marte and I got into a passionate debate. You are not supposed to do that to a consultant (which I realized after I woke up the next morning) but to Dr. Marte's credit, he broke it to me gently, so to speak - "To', kun naga-istorya gani' ang Mayor, ang konsehal pamati' lang. Basi' nalipat ka, Konsehal ka lang di." From then on, I was only known as "Konsehal" to him. From then on, I kept my mouth shut, sober or otherwise.

     Meanwhile, let's go back to that sticky interview question. If you grew up and lived your life in the city and were asked that same question, what do you think your response would be? You can get cute and say, 'Oh, I'm going to the rural areas anyway, and help the less-fortunate'. Or less cute and say, 'Well, I'll go into this so-and-so specialty which is not yet available here. I will have my own set of patients.' Or you can be aggressive and say, 'I'm going to the United States anyway, so that doesn't bother me'. In this case, you might as well start looking for another medical school.

     Or you can be most aggressive like what this one applicant did. We did not know the name of this one brave soul because he graduated from that University across from that other medical school. And by the way he answered, he probably had no plans on going into Roxas Hall or probably changed his mind the moment he heard the question. When asked by an older consultant, "What will you do after graduating? We are still here...blah...blah...blah", he answered "Yes, it's true. But what you don't realize is that there are doctors who will eventually die. Just like you!". It was no surprise that he did not bother to pursue his application.

     Let's go fast-forward into the future and talk reality. Some of you went back to your places of birth far away from the big city to practice. Fine, but we won't talk about you for now. Some of you migrated to the United States and other countries. Fine, but you are irrelevant for now. Some of you took over from your fathers' practices because your famous physician-fathers decided to play golf the rest of their lives. Good for you, but we will set you aside for now. Let's talk about the newbies who actually practice in the heart of Iloilo City.

     I talked to several friends, batchmates and non-batchmates, who now practice in the city, with this 'interview question' in mind. Our professors are still there, practicing, as they appropriately said so in that now-famous 'interview question'. I'm not too good at Math but with so many graduates, let's just say the past ten years, it's a no-brainer to say the number of doctors in the city increased by so many folds, while the number of hospitals remain the same. The number of patients may have increased but unless they are your relatives, they will go to a well-established, famous, household-name physician.

     During my PGI days, a patient writhing in pain was wheeled in to the University Hospital or Medical Center (as it is supposed to be called now) emergency room. The resident's diagnosis was acute appendicitis. As per procedure, he asked if the patient has a personal choice for a surgeon. Obviously in pain, the patient said he doesn't have any. The resident then looked at the E.R. 'on-deck' board. It so happened that the surgeon-on-deck was a good friend who just finished residency a few months back. He got paged, went to the E.R., examined the patient, went upstairs to the O.R., wore his scrubs, and waited. The patient's folks started arriving. One relative, who used to work as a nurse, vehemently objected to the choice of surgeon (I actually overheard the reason why). The resident politely explained why the surgeon was assigned to the patient. The relative was unrelentless. She had the patient transferred to another hospital so he can avail the services of a 'veteran' surgeon, not one who just graduated.

     Speaking of 'on-deck' bulletin boards, you can look no further than the one at the University Hospital to realize the doctors' numbers have increased. In 1992, there were only 5 rotating surgeons on-deck both for Pay and Service. Today, there are at least 15. I asked a friend who is a part of the rotation and he said you're lucky if you get a paying patient by way of decking. "I get service patients most of the time," he said, "and I have to wait half-a-month to get my chance at another deck."

     One friend who used to have a clinic at SEBA (St. Elizabeth's Bowling Alley), said he had exactly 6 patients in his first 6 months of practice. He once said he spent most of his time at Shoemart, a stone's throw away from SEBA, he could actually memorize the whole SM layout to the detail, where the men's shoes size 9 are, where the toilet paper....etc, etc.

     It is no surprise too, that most recent graduates have decided to go into newer sub-specialties in order to at least crack into the big city practice. I think that's a better way of doing it rather than thinking and hoping that the older doctors will eventually die.

     I could be wrong in my observation but if nobody refutes my points, I'll consider myself right. It is just too difficult to start a practice in the city. Some of the residents I have worked with and who eventually became fellows in their respective fields, chose to go to district hospitals to become "Junior Consultants" - a fancy description for a Medical Specialist who receives a fixed salary from the Department of Health while enjoying the privilege of having a private clinic after regular office hours.

     How did you answer your first interview?

     Dr. Art del Rosario (1980) wrote, "Your article on Kadil's works is touching. Kadil is truly a Filipino National Hero of modern times. A national treasure, totally dedicated to humanitarian services for our under-privileged brothers (and sisters). I hope that this article will encourage our fellow alumni to express their generosity in supporting Kadil's mission. This is truly a gargantuan task for him. With the alumni's support, I hope that Kadil's mission will realize remarkable achievement. His success is our (alumni's) success!"

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

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