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BRUGADA SYNDROME. Having a nightmare wasn’t new to him. Infact, Nicky’s had a lot of nightmares when he was a kid. But did he actually just had a nightmare? Yes, it was weird. But was that already credit enough to call his dream a nightmare?

Now what was that syndrome again his Cardiology teacher in third year taught them about having frequent nightmares and stories about patients, young adult men in particular, dying from their sleep?

Ah yes! Brugada Syndrome…named after the Brugada brothers who discovered this distinct clinical entity, otherwise known as Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome. AKA, namatay habang natutulog dahil sa pancreatitis…which was, impossible, Nicky knew his medical background well.

Cut the crap, Nicks! Nicky thought to himself in-between the heavy panting. He was already panting and catching his breath and yet he was still explaining to himself the theoretical background behind his nightmares. What kind of a psychologically sound person would do that?

Shit. Sino ba ‘yung babaeng ‘yon? He was curious and wanted to know. Only if she revealed her face would he have searched for her everywhere.

When Nicky was feeling better, he laid himself back to bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to lull himself back to sleep. And then his phone beeped by the bedside table.

Nicky sighed, giving in to the impulse to check his phone. And when he did, he found a message from one of his girl-friends.

GOODNYTÜ. It just said.

Nicky smiled, ignoring the message and deleting it. Why can’t she put it in her putty little head that they just won’t work out…anymore? He sighed, putting himself back into sleep mode again. And it was a couple of minutes more when he was finally able to put himself to sleep successfully.

WHILE UP-PGH BECAME THE school for the wannabe doctors who didn’t have enough money to send themselves to med school, Santo Ignacio Memorial Medical Center College of Medicine (or the SIMMC) was different. It was the school to the rich, the bold, the beautiful and the ugly. And in SIMMC, since it was owned by one of the country’s richest scions, education was treated as business and the students were treated as customers. No wonder that when a parent complained, the Dean would immediately make sure that her customer’s request is heeded and done pronto.

Fact number two… When a student is not able to pay on time for whatever reasons—be it because he kept forgetting to remind his parents or his parent’s small-scale business just went bankrupt, trust their lawyer and he’d be sending you his loveletter right away. There were no excuses or buts to be accepted, just signatures for agreement. Collaterals by the way, are also acceptable.

But nevertheless, rest assured that your children would get the best education and training there is in medicine had to offer. A quality that was at par with its neighboring schools down Manila.

But now, as the hospital stood in the midst of a picket line and a deadline for execution and termination, the school’s staff and compassionate teachers still battled for its survival and for the production of kindhearted would-be doctors…

Nicky had just gotten down from his low-profile Honda CRV after parking it up front the lobby parking beside a Mitsubishi Evo owned by his classmate. The picket line stood by a few meters from him, with one of the union members eyeing him suspiciously and talking about him. Nicky wanted to tell himself that he was getting paranoid again…but if he wasn’t, then why did it feel awkward seeing them looking at him?

He was getting his duffel bag, ready for tonight’s duty, when his close friend Reginaldo Amador Depano (Red for short) spotted him.

“Goodmorning dear friend. How are you today?” Red greeted, with his body bag hanging behind him and a sketchpad on the side. His sketchpad was sort of like his battery, like he and “it” was one. That when it wasn’t there with him, it felt like he was incomplete and couldn’t function well. His sketchpad was were he always released his stress into and diverted his desire wish to be a woman. There was no denying that he was gay, because it was obvious he already was. And his sketchpad was a living proof to that—he designed clothes and dresses so well that he thought if he wasn’t a doctor, he would probably be a fashion designer like Donatella Versace, and blogging about his career and endless trips to Paris right now instead.

But he wasn’t. And it was so sad that his sketchpad was nothing but just an outlet for his desire.

“Good.” Nicky just answered with a skittish grin. “You? What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I have good and bad news.” Red hopped playfully beside Nicky. “They just released my birth certificate from NSO, now I don’t have to worry about taking the board exams in the future. And guess what, my sexual orientation has been already changed from female to male—anatomically that is! But…!” He followed immediately before Nicky could react, emphasizing that single word like he was putting a finger on Nicky’s lips to shut up. “I can no longer enjoy the privilege of being a female because techincally, they have already changed me into a male… But!” He followed again, before Nicky could protest. “I still feel proud that once in my life I was known to the world as a woman!” He smiled proudly.

Nicky smirked. “I wasn’t actually going to react about that NSO  thing.”

“What?!” Red sounded disappointed, he thought that Nicky would be happy for him. “I thought you were my friend you low-lying idiot!” He accused. “Shoudn’t you be happy for me?!”

“I am…” Nicky smiled, reassuring him. “I mean I’ve always been happy you were so honest with your sexual orientation and you didn’t have to hide it… But I think that it would have been better if you kept yourself a woman. That way you wouldn’t have to change your birth certificate twice once you decide to get a transplant!” He was joking, but half-heartedly, he meant it.

“Ha-ha!” Red scoffed. “I’m proud the way I am and I’m never going to get any transplant!”

Just then, a rock suddenly falls out of nowhere, hitting a consultant’s BMW Z5 nearby on the top, it made the alarm go bezerk.

“Holy shit!” Nicky cursed, instinctively covering his head with his hands for protection. “Who’s fuckin’ car was that?”

Red’s jaw dropped open when he saw the rock smash on to the roof of the brand new BMW Z5. The impact was so great, it looked like a meteor just hit the roof, it made an obvious dent on the top.

The response was quick. The guards were suddenly running out of nowhere, running after this anonymous somebody wearing a plain, white shirt and a pair of tattered denim jeans.

“Putang-ina mo bumalik ka dito!” Yelled one of the guards as he took out his famous batuta and wagged it in mid-air, ready to hit the poor man on the head.

“OMG, I can’t believe this is happening here!” Red sighed, burrying his face in his hand as he nodded his head sidewards, feeling disappointed again at their school. “There’s just too many…”

“Issues.” Nicky smiled, filling in the sentence for Red.

“Yes, issues.” Red sighed, agreeing.

“That’s why we’re here…”

“What?! Excuse me?” Red immediately looked up at Nicky, wondering with curious eyes.

Nicky just smiled at Red, winking an eye at him. “We are the lies where all these issue comes from.” He said metaphorically.

Red was even more perplexed. It was weird that Nicky has been speaking a lot of jargons lately…jargons that didn’t have connections or were loosely associated. And he was worried his friend was gradually becoming incoherent.

“I don’t know where you’re getting me at…!” Red crossed his arms around his chest, with his precious sketchpad tucked under it. “Enlighten me, dearie.”

“In the near future, my friend.” Nicky sounded giddy as he jumped at the first flight of stairs. “But while we’re still here, let’s enjoy our stay…” Then he unfolds his arms and raises it up. “Welcome to the colorful world of Santo Ignacio Memorial Medical Center!” He smiled.

Red bashfully rolled his eyes at his friend, like he wanted to say ‘hindi-ko-kilala-tong-taong-to’ kind of thing. “Mukha kang tanga! Bumaba ka nga dyan!” He called, and Nicky jumped beside him like a good boy-friend he was.

“Tang’na niyo! Mga madadamot! Mukhang pera!”  The still unidentified attacker yelled in the background, as he struggled under the threatening grip of the guards. Nicky and Red turned around to silently and curiously watch the commotion. And they were taken aback when one single blow flew up in the air to keep him shut.

“Tang’na mo din, hayop ka! Mamatay ka na!” They were surprised, they couldn’t believe it. Because what kept him shut was the golden hand that had the power to heal and give hope to the dying…