The MTs That Were

I have just finished my x-ray examination, and it will be taken before 12 noon. My life has taken another turn again. This time another kind of job in another kind of setting. There is really this feeling of abandonment and desertion of the past that you cling to somehow. Though I am still to start with this new job, the nostalgia of two years in medical transcription still reigns in on me. It is true then that old horse die hard; only this time it is a job which is the horse. Were it not of the resolve to meet new mornings of opportunities, I would have rather succumbed to an agonizing reminicience. It is not looking backward to the job per se which I loathed much to, but it is the thinking of those personalities whom you had been for two years and a month that you have had the hardest cleaving from.

You become factually helpless when you acknowledge that indeed your group becomes you and you become your group. Doubtless that there are difficulties each one had encountered through the two years, but the homogeneity of a specific population of medical transcriptionists could not be ruled out as if it does not exist. Maybe there was a rift between two camps inside our work, but the rift is but a part of that uniformity of life we had become accustomed to. This is usually because we have known the character of each of us that it is easy to conclude that we are patterned in each one's mind. We expect to see that which we have expecting to see. So much of that much that my memory of the group can distinctly classify each one of my colleagues that their own personality and identity shows amidst the variance it is found within. When I happen to think of Mitchelle, the one at my right, she is captured in my mind as something this and not that. I could perfectly describe her.

This is one of the many reasons why thinking of them could not help my wistful bent. This is what keeps on gluing my mind to. I do not know if in any particular way my colleagues my find themselves in like manner, but I think in more than one occasion even if days have passed us by and many a year has left us, they would turn their attention for once to that two years they had spent and somehow conclude that it changed them.

The background circumstance is another matter of the story. Though the centrifugal force is apparent within the group, what binds us is one acknowledged enemy. Externally speaking, this common ground of perceived enemy has at least the adherence that we can all speak in one mind. But more than just from any external factor, there is indeed an internal cohesive force that each one tends to. Though it might be hard to admit it for some, we have liked each other for the most part if only in a subjective-relative sense. What do I mean? Each one of us admits difference as an inherent value, however, this difference in more ways becomes a bridge to each one in his identification of who he really is. Like Marigold, she is closely identified with her christian values and sets quite a landmark of this in her behaving towards her colleagues, and this becomes more than a demarcation on the sand because everyday she is challenged to pursue her identity against the perceived threat in the beliefs of some of her colleagues. So more than an identified fact, it is that others are sustained by the presence of others.

But of course there are others which vaccilate from one end to another; those who belong to the gray zone. If it is of any political nuance, they are the center field. They are the people who might believe what the left profess or swing to the right if they find their affinity to it. For myself, I would rather describe myself as right center. I am one of those whose attraction is close to the likes of Marigolds in some things, while keeping in touch with the likes of Michelle Cruzs.

What can be fierce is when they chose to forget and never recognize that inherent goodness of such an encounter. If one becomes to wallow on the superficial feelings of hate and hostility and never getting beyond the thick of things and depth of reality. They would lose the opportunity of an existential value of such an encounter considering that such would not occur again probably.