First Attempt in Adventure Log [01]

**Long-windedness ahead. I'm not a novelist, okay.

Finally. I have something to write on my Adventure Log. It's funny because this entry would start sometime around when I played Dragon Quest VIII for the first time. That would be Monday, April 21. ...Yeah, so that wasn't really funny. Whatever.

It's midnight at the moment. My back is sore. My fingertips are extra sensitive. Sitting up on bed with my body reclined against some pillows feels heavenly. I've just emerged from a wonderful cold shower. The things that would make this night perfect would be a good massage and a glass of cold chocolate milk. If I were a millionaire, I would make sure I get to do this every night. If millionaires aren't doing this, then they're spending their money wrong. I did laundry tonight for the first time ever, and I'm beat. Why tonight, of all nights? Well...

April 21, 2014. I finished playing Persona 4 at 5 AM, I think? Or did I do that the day before? I can't remember. I had Dragon Quest VIII lined up for my next RPG marathon-- a game that I've acquired for some time now. I was excited because the online reviews were positive in majority. I find it hard to find games that I really like, so I was looking forward to playing DQ.

It's just after lunch. Before playing, I fixed some iced coffee for myself. Mom came to me and complained that her abdomen felt like there was trapped gas floating around and it hurt. She asked me for medicine, and I gave her an anti-spasmodic. She said that maybe, if she were somehow able to pass out the trapped air, she would finally feel better. I interviewed her regarding the things she ate, the things she did, just some amateur history taking. I secretly ate the thing she mentioned just to see if it was the culprit. Other than that, there wasn't anything suspicious nor remarkable.

I went back to my room and put DQ on the PS2 CD tray. I hurriedly sat on the edge of my bed and clutched the controller with eagerness. I felt like a kid again. Oh, DQ. Oh. First few minutes of DQ felt like a 3D version of old RPGs like Final Fantasy, which is familiar and welcoming. Then the voice.

Oh gawd, everyone is British. Or something. It's kind of a...shock to me, especially because I still have a Persona 4 hangover. P4 has amazing voice overs and music, so I still had this level of standard when it came to that. Pfft, DQ. I eagerly listened to the characters speak and laughed. After a while it annoyed me, so I set the Voice volume to zero, leaving BGM and SFX on.

Another aspect of DQ shocked me. The thing with jars. And cabinets. You...uh... You can go to people's houses and, er, smash their jars...right in front of the tenants. You can take their stuff, and nothing happens. I know it's a normal thing in most RPGs, but the P4 hangover was still there. DQ felt like a child's game. But I had to remind myself to be objective. I tried loving DQ for what it is.

The battle system is also quite nostalgic for me. It brought back my feelings for Breath of Fire. But, er, another shocking thing. DQ8 has a high mortality rate. I-- I spent an hour in the first dungeon because I had to keep coming back to town to be resurrected. When I had my first death, I kind of panicked. You can only save in churches as far as I know, and I have no idea what happens if all the characters die. So much for leveling up and time spent in the dungeon. PS: it's really funny that the dead character is in a coffin during battle. I laughed.

Then at last, I arrived at what I think is my first Boss encounter. It was...really strong. Its attack chips away like 4/9 of your HP. I thought, maybe I can defeat it since I made it this far. As the battle went on, my hopes grew dimmer. My healing items were about to run out. I tried escaping so I can go back to it later. I thought escape was an option. It wasn't.

I did my darn best to hold out. I really did. Every move was calculated so that I can maximise the scarce herbs I had left. DQ forces you to make use of math. Grade schoolers should play this game. I was really scared. I was already telling myself that it's fine if I die. I'll just take it as a lesson to never approach Bosses hastily. I've started muttering 'miss!' and 'block it!' out of desperation. I finally had nothing left. I decided to give it my all. An all-out attack. Even if I die, I would have done everything that I could.

The Boss wailed. And died. The victory was so sudden, for a moment I didn't believe what just happened. I finally understand how 'hard work pays off' feels like. I had to persevere, no matter what. My goal from then on was to make my characters stronger and more efficient in battle so that I don't have to go through the same torment ever again. I laughed because these things I've learned were very applicable in real life-- something that I've been avoiding these past few months.

The night before, I was very depressed. I thought of why I kept on studying Nursing in college even though it is a profession that I dislike so much. I love nurses, but I just can't see myself working as one. It's not something I'm passionate about. In fact, I really don't enjoy doing the things they do. That's why I have so much respect for them. I keep wondering how they can still serve people with a smile despite the workload they have. They're amazing.

I'm not a hero. I don't sacrifice myself. That's why this isn't for me. And to think that this is the career that will be stuck with me for the rest of my life... I cried. Cursed under my breath. Cursed myself. I was angry. I wanted to blame people, but I tried not to. I could've easily pretended that I'm not smart enough for the course and fail it on purpose. I could even pretend that the sight of blood and other bodily fluids is extremely disorienting me to make it physiologically impossible for me to make a career out of it.

I could've escaped this if I'd ever chosen to. But I didn't. I was a coward. I didn't know how to stand up for what I want. I couldn't. I didn't know about the terrors of real life. I thought that my parents know best since they've been on this world longer than I have, and placed my confidence in their wisdom. But I forgot myself, the one thing that matters a lot. Every one's self is important to them. Because we only live for a finite amount of time. We should make our own happiness a priority goal. What's the point in living if you're not happy? Seriously. Another thing is... what is /it/ that makes you happy?

So I spent hours playing DQ even though it frustrated me. I finally felt hungry around 6:30 PM so I let the controller go. I came to the living room with Mom on the sofa, looking terrible from having endured pain the whole day. She still complained of this 'air trapping' kind of feeling. I asked her where exactly it hurt. She gestured vaguely around the center of her abdomen. I was waiting for my own abdomen to hurt for some time, but it didn't. I palpated around and asked whether it hurt when I push down or released the pressure. Her answer was 'of course it hurts when you push down!' It sounded more like her logic than what she actually felt. It wasn't rigid, so I didn't worry much.

She confessed that she vomited twice this afternoon. She hasn't eaten for the rest of the day. It broke my heart because these things happened to her, and I was just in my room. I had no idea what was happening. I wish someone told me, or I wish that I bothered checking up on her to see whether the anti-spasmodic worked. I felt responsible for what she is going through at that moment.

I spent the next two hours looking through books for what it could have been. I was mildly panicking in my own mind because she seemed to be suffering too much for an ordinary gas pain. At around 8PM, she asked me to bring her to the hospital for a checkup. I agreed, and packed some necessities quickly. I asked Aunt Lady to watch over my younger sister while we were gone.

After examination of doctors, it turned out to be acute appendicitis. She had to be admitted and operated ASAP. It was the first time anyone in our immediate family ever had to be admitted in a hospital. On top of that, I'm the eldest child, and no one else is available to help along with both paperwork and watching over the patient.

I was mildly apprehensive. I think I was able to keep my calm because hospitals are familiar to me. I was calm because I was there. If I wasn't and have just left someone else to care for my mother, I wouldn't be able to sit still. Trust issues, I suppose. Or it's just more reassuring to be there firsthand instead of merely waiting for news.

I watched as my mother squirmed in pain, looking pale from eating nothing since lunch. I could tell she was nervous with the idea of having a surgery. But she would hide it. That's how she's always been; trying to be strong. I wanted to cry because I felt pity. I wanted to cry because I wasn't able to diagnose her with something so obvious. If she hadn't asked to seek medical attention, I would've just given her home remedies, monitored her vital signs, made her comfortable, and put her to bed.

Maybe if she hadn't asked, I would wake up the next day without her. She would have died because of my incompetence. And to think that I've always wanted to become a doctor. It's when I realized that people's illnesses aren't just puzzles for me to solve. It's about dealing with people, with lives. I should not treat it like a game.

After getting my license for a profession I didn't give a damn about, my first patient would be my mother. It's like fate is trying to say something. This weird but convenient timing-- it's funny how things turnout.

She had the operation at around 2 AM. I stayed awake the whole time. When it was finally over, one of her doctors found me at the waiting area (I bet I looked like garbage at that time). He sent me the picture of my mother's cut out appendix via Bluetooth. It stroked my academic side, but I thought the gesture was rather kind and caring.

She was put in a ward. There were four beds, but we had them all to ourselves. It was like staying in a private room, but with more beds. All throughout our stay I slept on the bed adjacent to hers. To this day I wondered whether doing that is allowed by hospital policy.

I've been by her side for almost 18 hours a day, sometimes going home to shower, most of the time downstairs processing the paperwork and buying medicine. It was tiring because in the middle of the night, nurses still had to come to monitor her condition and to give her round-the-clock medicine. Mom is fine with it since she can sleep it through (the drugs probably helped), but I was constantly awakened.

Aside from technical duty, I was also the one who mediated things between her and my father. I thought she was ashamed of speaking to him directly because she thought she was just being a financial burden. Or maybe because she didn't want him to hear how weak she is so that my father won't worry that much. I hated being a mediator. I didn't know what sort of manners I am supposed to show. I was afraid I'd seem too formal, or maybe too calm as if nothing is happening. I think too much, seriously.

But I took that as practice. People skills are important in real life, and that's something that I don't have. I'm lucky that I'm still sane despite the lack of friends. I was still worried because I looked at PR skills as something technical. I thought it's something inherent/natural in people. I think I was born with a manual attached to my umbilicus. I didn't want to talk to people with a script. I wanted to do it naturally. But if I say the things that I truly think and feel, I still wouldn't have friends. I'm too critical, and people don't like that.

This incident has made me feel like my first step into adulthood. When she was finally discharged, I took charge of housework. It was sort of fun, in a way. I finally learned how to cook rice.

And laundry. It's my first time doing laundry. It's tiring as heck. No wonder why my mom is so fit. It's like some sort of...productive workout. I was sweaty and sore after having finished.

Imagine. This long-ass story just to complain how tiring laundry is (I know, the story was reeaaaally unnecessary). I know my future self would re-read this. I'm laughing at you right now, future self. Not because it's mean, but because it's genuinely funny to me.

Last updated April 25, 2014