Wedding Song Playlist

 

Last week, my friend was compiling a list of wedding songs for her daughter’s upcoming nuptials in November. She said that her Gen Z daughter’s list horrified her, but her daughter assured her that the hip-hop songs were merely for the wedding reception’s dance list. Somehow, the daughter and the fiancée both agreed that they wanted to please their titos and titas, as well as their parents, who would be footing the bill for the reception. So, they asked their Baby Boomer parents to send their song requests.

That prompted our group to throw out several suggestions. Spanning three generations, our choices range from schmaltzy to “kilig” (a Tagalog term referring to feelings of elation caused by a romantic experience). We spent our lunch hour singing snippets of songs, from classics and oldies to Motown and a whole discography of sappy love songs that can rival Delilah’s.  

I told the group, “Please restrain yourself to show your age in your choice of songs.”

My friend Sharon said, “Hey, I am paying half of the expenses, so why can’t I choose the songs “And I Love You So” (Perry Como), “I Have You” (Carpenters), “When I Fall in Love” (Nat King Cole)?”

I scoffed, “I love those songs too, although they’re before my time, but you don’t want your audience to get bored, right?”

We all agreed to limit the songs to those from at least the past two decades. It was safe to assume that the Silent/Traditionalist generation would have left Reception soon after food was served.

Fun fact: Do you know that the song “Pretty Little Baby” by Connie Francis became a viral hit 63 years later on TikTok? So, if a contemporary artist revived an Oldie, it should be considered for this playlist, right?

 

Here’s our list:

 

“IKAW” - Yeng Constantino

The song “Ikaw” was a gift of love from Filipino singer-songwriter Yeng Constantino to her husband on their wedding day in 2014. The complex melody and the Tagalog lyrics were a poignant declaration of an enduring love. Singer Yohan Hwang sang the Korean-language version for a Filipino adaptation of a Korean drama show.

“You are the love that I waited for…You are the love that was given to me by the heavens.”

“Ikaw” won the Song of the Year in 2014 and has remained a favorite OPM (Original Pilipino Music) love song to this day. I love it so much that I have featured it three times before in my other blog posts.

 

 “PERFECT”- Ed Sheeran [with Andrea Bocelli]

This is a perfect wedding song, a ballad written by Ed Sheeran to his future wife. His collaboration with Andrea Bocelli was a perfect symphony of pop and opera. I was transfixed as Andrea’s voice soared high, "Tesoro, sei perfetta stasera". I'm the woman dancing in the dark, barefoot in the grass. So romantic.

 

“ALL OF ME” - John Legend

"All of Me" is a piano ballad that John Legend dedicated and sang to his wife, Chrissy Teigen, at their wedding. 

When a man croons that he loves your curves and all your edges, and all your perfect imperfections, that you are his end and his beginning, then what are you waiting for? This will be a legendary song, no pun intended.

 

“TWO WORDS”- Lea Salonga

Lea Salonga was recently inducted into the Hollywood Walk of Fame, a historic milestone for a Filipino artist. The Tony and Olivier award-winning singer and actress paved the way for international acclaim for musical artists from the Philippines. She was Kim in Miss Saigon, Eponine and Fantine in Les Misérables, and the voice of Disney Princess Jasmine and warrior Mulan.

It was her song, “Two Words,” that she sang at her wedding, which made her husband, Rob Chien, cry.  Stunning rendition from the Broadway Diva.

 

"HE KNOWS"- Almira Lat Trinidad

Almira Lat (now Trinidad) made a grand entrance on her wedding to Joshua as she sang her song “He Knows” during her bridal walk. The song was composed by Lolito Go, for which she provided additional words. Almira was the grand winner of the "Kantahang Pinoy 2025" singing competition. 

The song quickly gained popularity on various social media platforms. The groom cried, as did the guests and the YouTube video reactors. I must admit I brushed a tear or two, even on several listens.

I hope you noticed when the bride and groom took their parents' hands and pressed them on their foreheads. It is a Filipino tradition to show respect and reverence to their elders.

 

"TWO LESS LONELY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD"- KZ Tandingan

KZ Tandingan magically reimagined the Air Supply version of the Howard Greenfield and Ken Hirsch song "Two Less Lonely People In The World." This soft rock classic served as the soundtrack to the movie "Kita Kita (I See You)". 

It is a heart-warming reminder that someday it will be alright, and there will be two less lonely people amidst a world of heartaches and sadness. There is hope.

 

“NOTHING'S GONNA CHANGE MY LOVE FOR YOU” - Music Travel Love ft. Bugoy Drilon

Love is patient. Love is enduring. I enjoy the heartfelt acoustic rendition of Music Travel Love with the smooth-voiced Filipino artist Bugoy Drilon. The George Benson version was popular in the Philippines in the mid-1980s. Bob and Clint Moffatt are identical twins known for their pop-rock music and videos with the panoramic views of the locales, filmed in the Philippines, the United Kingdom, Indonesia, Vietnam, United Arab Emirates, and other exotic sites worldwide.             

“I WILL BE HERE”- Steven Curtis Chapman

“Tomorrow morning when you wake up and the future is unclear, I will be here. As sure as seasons are made for change, our lifetimes are made for years, so I will be here ”.

This is a solemn promise.  This is an Oldie but a Goldie, written by Steven Curtis Chapman for his then-bride of five years, Mary Beth. After his parents’ unexpected divorce, he saw the panic and fear in his wife’s eyes, so he wrote the song to reassure his wife that he would be there at her side, no matter what.

This quintessential love song from the multi-Grammy award winner has been sung at many weddings and anniversaries.

 

“LUCKY”- Lee Suhyun & Henry Lau

In the Begin Again TV show, Lee Suhyun and Henry Lau joined the busking group that toured and performed in Europe and South Korea. I enjoyed their duet version of the original song by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. The harmonies and chemistry between Henry and Suhyun had me coming back for more. The audience was mesmerized and engaged; I would have loved to be there in the crowd.

Just Another Lockdown Love Story

 

April 2020, a New York City hospital, Emergency Department

“Hello, nurse, may I speak with my mother Marcia Thomas, please? My name is Braden Thomas. I am calling from London. Please, please do not hang up on me!”

This was just one of the many calls I received that day from family members trying desperately to reach out for any news about the patients in our care. Covid-19 was at its peak, and visitors were restricted in our ER, unless the patient was in imminent danger of death.

The staff had been fielding calls from families who were unable to stay with their loved ones at the bedside. It was a warzone, and we were the warriors trying to save the patients. But the families were anxious, helpless, and despondent for updates about their loved ones.

This call was different. The caller’s voice was a deep baritone with a British accent, and he spoke with an anguished tone. It was an overseas call that was forwarded to the landline near the nurses’ station in the ED. His mother was lying in Room 2 in isolation.

Mrs. Thomas was admitted to the ER last night after she complained of shortness of breath while visiting her younger sister in Manhattan.  The 78-year-old former teacher had lived with her grown children in England since immigrating there in her teens.

I was done giving my report for the night shift charge nurse. All I could think of was to take off my scrubs, clean up, sanitize my things, and then go back home. I needed to sleep; I needed to come back tomorrow for another heartbreaking day of patients getting sick with Covid-19. I had to come back to help my team care for patients who were struggling to breathe and stay alive. I had to be there to help intubate the patients, to give them a fighting chance against this dreaded disease that came from nowhere.

I was tired, but the voice touched me. I thought of my own parents back home in the Philippines (thankfully safe in isolation), so I couldn't transfer the call to the night charge nurse, who was busy fielding other calls for help. He was calling from England and wanted to speak to just anybody about his mom. I decided to go beyond that—one last task for the day. I donned my isolation gown again and entered Room 2.

Mrs. Thomas was breathing better on high-flow oxygen. She was supposed to be going to an admission bed, but there was no available inpatient bed. She would not have recognized me with my mask, face shield, and surgical cap, but she smiled when I spoke.

“My sweet nurse Adriane, I thought you left for the day.” She remembered my “shining almond-shaped brown eyes” because I spent a few minutes comforting her when she became tachycardic from her panic attack.

I brought my personal phone with me so that she can FaceTime with her son. The other iPADs were being used to arrange FaceTime conversations with other families. I had my cellphone enclosed in clear plastic. Just before I entered the room, I gave the son a quick update on her mom’s status as per the doctor’s notes. I did not think of privacy violations; this was a distraught son who needed some news. I told myself it would be the last time I would use my personal phone in that way.

“Well, I have a surprise for you, Mrs. Thomas.”

The phone rang on cue, behind me, and I brandished my surprise.

The look on Mrs. Thomas’ face when her Braden appeared on the screen was priceless. I steeled myself from crying. The night before, I had an emotional phone call with my Nanay and Tatay in the Philippines. I was worried about them and bemoaned the fact that I live another world away from my family. 

Mrs. Thomas motioned for me to look at the phone screen. Her son Braden’s gray eyes twinkled back at me, with relief in his eyes at seeing his Mum still alive.  Dark brown hair, five o’clock shadow, aquiline nose. All he could see of me was my eyes behind the mask and the face shield.

The call only lasted 3 minutes; Mrs. Thomas was tired. That was my last good deed of the day. The patient was waiting for her inpatient bed.

The next morning, I received a text message from Braden Thomas.

“Can I call you, please? I can’t get through her new floor.”

I debated whether to respond. I had a full load of patients, and I just got relieved for lunch break. My nurse manager pushed me out the door; she wanted me to take time to breathe.

I took a quick bite of the sandwich sent for the staff by a nearby restaurant, but I was worried about Mrs. Thomas. I detoured back to 9^th floor where Mrs. Thomas was admitted. I was able to get a quick update from her nurse. Mrs. Thomas was sleeping after a difficult night, but she was doing better. Her vital signs were good, and her oxygen saturation remained high.

I ran to a small park near the cathedral, located just one block from the hospital. The hospital staff had been using it to get some much-needed fresh air, away from the misery and helplessness of fighting a virus that was unknown to all. The employees were socially distancing from each other, even in the park, sitting several benches apart.

I called Braden, mindful of the 5-hour difference between New York and London. The 12 o’clock sun shone brightly as I sat on a bench in the secluded park. Braden answered on the second ring, “Thank you, Adriane, for calling me. I am so worried.” He turned on the video call.

Braden’s face lit up when he heard my news about his mum. His beautiful gray eyes teared up, as he visibly trembled, then shook his shoulders to control the rush of emotions. I took my mask off to wipe my eyes and nose as well.

Braden blurted out, “You have the most beautiful brown eyes, Adriane”. We both blushed, and he stammered an apology. “Oh, so sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

I just smiled. I felt self-conscious, so I was thinking of how to end the conversation.

Probably sensing my discomfort, Braden smacked his forehead comically, “Duh, please don’t hang up yet, Adriane. Sometimes, I’m a klutz.” He cleared his voice and earnestly added, “I just want to express how grateful I am for your help with my mum. It must be difficult to be harangued by desperate sons like me. At this time, you and the other healthcare workers are the heroes the world needs.”

I looked up at the clear, blue sky above. It looked like a typical day, but inside the hospital, it was a frantic shift as the staff raced against time to save the patients.

“It is overwhelming sometimes.” My voice broke.

“How do you cope? Do you want to talk about it?”

I did not know how I managed to unburden the deep, aching sadness in my heart. His words opened the floodgates of emotion. I cried for the loss of my patients, and even some friends who succumbed to the disease. I told him of my parents in the Philippines, who quarantined themselves in the province, with only my brother’s family to take care of them.

My roommates, who were recruited by the hospital a few years ago, like me, try to comfort each other. The first time we talked about our patients, we all ended up crying for several hours. The trauma was affecting our mental and emotional health. To survive, we had to forget the horrors we witnessed at work. When it got too much, the nurses agreed on the phrase "I need my five minutes"; that was our cue that we needed time to cry, sometimes in the lounge, sometimes in an empty office.

It was with an unspoken agreement that my friends and I focused on different distractions after that. I binged on K-drama and music videos from my favorite supergroup, BTS. My friend Ella became obsessed with plants; we called her “plantita”. June started running through the deserted Manhattan streets. She said that she’s running away from Covid-19.

“Adriane, you don’t know me, but I feel I know your heart. You have a great deal of love for your patients. Please consider me a friend. Call me whenever you need to talk.”

Braden was like an unpaid therapist, offering words of comfort and support. It has become a weekly ritual. He worked remotely at home as a computer analyst, so his hours were flexible. He couldn’t travel to care for his mom in New York; the world was on lockdown. He was my lifeline when I needed someone to just listen.

That was five years earlier. Over the years, we continued talking over the phone.  Braden’s mother survived her Covid-19 ordeal and opted to relocate to Florida with her sister.

Today, I call London my home. I have my one-year-old son and three-year-old daughter cuddling next to me, while my husband Braden is cooking his specialty Pork Sinigang, which he learned from me. He is a much better cook than me.

Oh, he's also a BTS fan like me. Life Goes on.

Alone on New Year's Eve

 

New Year’s Eve, New York

"Jenny, please, can you come in to the ER?". An urgent call from her frantic supervisor roused Jenny from her bed and derailed her New Year’s Eve plan to brave the throng of New Yorkers in Times Square to witness the ball drop with her friends.

Jenny was supposed to spend this New Year’s Eve with someone special. She thought Reese would break through the defenses she had put up, but just last week, she finally conceded that their relationship was not meant to be. Dr. Reese Walton had pursued her for about six months, but it looked like he had just given up. Maybe he could not understand her reluctance to open her heart again. Just when she had decided to accept him, she heard that his ex-girlfriend had claimed his attention again.

Her whole family lived far away in the Philippines, so she always made sure she spent the holidays with friends. They were all in their mid-twenties, all single and enjoying the freedom of youth. The pangs of homesickness are better dealt with when amongst friends.

Two of her co-workers had figured in a minor accident but could not make it for their shift. And since she was single and lived alone, she was the most obvious choice for her supervisor to cajole into submission.

Jenny, once again, was alone on New Year’s Eve.

At 5pm, the Emergency Department was bursting at the seams. The masses had descended upon the ED with a spectrum of complaints ranging from minor in-grown toenails to major gunshot wound traumas. Patient volume was high; there was no open stretcher in sight. It used to be that the presence or absence of stretchers lined up in the hallway leading to the ED spelled the difference between whether the ED staff would have a good day or not.

Well, it looked like the neighborhood drunks decided to spend their holiday in our ED. Free meals, a clean stretcher, and an occasional smile from a pretty nurse. And a chance to blow off the excess alcohol through their system, out from the cold winter streets, in the sanctuary and warmth of the ED.

Jenny had often joked that one could get drunk passing through the hallways just from breathing the off-gases from the inebriated patients as they kept a cacophony of snores through their stay. The nurses had given up trying to undress these patients; priorities made them concentrate on the truly sick, especially when they were two nurses short. And besides, all that was needed was time… when these patients wake from their drunken stupor, they demand to be released back into the streets. The ED was a merry-go-round for those who could not get rid of their addiction to liquor.

A patient caught Jenny’s attention. He was usually a happy drunk, not shy in expressing his appreciation to the female form by way of wolf whistles and suggestive remarks. Now, he laid back on the stretcher and accepted the intravenous with no protest at all. Jenny whipped out her ever-present penlight and shone it on the patient’s eyes.

A frisson of fear snaked down Jenny’s spine as she saw the unequal pupils, one sluggish and dilated. True enough, a quick CAT scan revealed a huge subarachnoid bleed. The patient was quickly rushed to the OR. Whew, another life was saved. But looking at the mass of humanity in the crowded waiting room, it would be back-breaking work for this busy New York City ED personnel.

Resigned to the long night ahead, Jenny worked with the other triage nurses until about 1000 pm, and all was quiet in the triage area. The EMS crew had hunkered to their station to watch the ball drop…until the next 911 call.

A transport clerk brought an old woman to the triage area. Denise guided the woman to a triage chair. “I found her wandering in the lobby. Couldn’t understand what she’s saying.” She whispered to Jenny, “I can smell alcohol on her.”

The woman looked Asian, probably in her 70s. Clutching a big bag close to her chest, she shook her head when Jenny asked her questions. She was well-groomed with sensible shoes and a thick wool coat but was reeking of cheap beer. With tears in her eyes, she presented a worn picture to Jenny. The sepia picture showed a young couple holding hands amidst a backdrop of what looked like a Chinese temple. The woman was dressed in a dark-colored cheongsam, while the man‘s attire looked like a loose-fitting, light-colored shirt with an upturned collar.

Jenny commandeered a Chinese doctor to interpret for the patient. When asked about the alcohol smell, Mrs. Chen looked embarrassed but finally admitted that she bought a pack of beer from the grocery so that she could sleep through the night. She spilled the first can of Heineken all over her clothes. She started to feel dizzy, so she left the beer pack to a group of homeless men on the streets. But she felt disoriented on her way home and was picked up by a passing EMS van. She managed to get out of the gurney and walked out to the hospital lobby.

According to the translator, the woman’s husband of 55 years passed away about six months ago, and she lived alone in her house. Mrs. Chen had always been independent, but during the holidays, it was their tradition for their close-knit family to spend New Year’s Eve together. Mrs. Chen had expected a call from her two children who lived in New Jersey, but when no call came, she decided she did not want to spend her New Year’s Eve alone.

The woman continued to reminisce about the good old days with her husband, and she started to cry miserably. Her sobs filled the small private room. The doctor was called to the Trauma Room at that time, and Jenny was left alone with the woman. Unable to comfort the woman because of the language barrier, Jenny just patted Mrs. Chen’s frail shoulders. Jenny knew too well about holiday blues.

Because there was no social worker on duty then, the hospital administrator volunteered to find help to locate Mrs. Chen’s family. The patient could not remember her children’s and friends’ phone numbers. At that time, it looked like she needed to remain in the ED.

It was already 11:30 pm. Almost time for the ball drop. The table at the employee lounge was heavily laden with ethnic food, and the TV played the pre-show celebration in Times Square. There was excitement in the ED; half the staff gathered in front of the TV to wait for the countdown. No EMS crew stayed around. All the admitted patients had gone up to their floor beds. The doctors had discharged most of the patients, except the drunks… and Mrs. Chen.

The administrator returned the good news that NYPD had gotten Mrs. Chen’s family’s telephone numbers. They had been frantic about locating their mother, who had initially told them she was spending her holidays with friends. The sons would be coming to pick up their mom after midnight. Mrs. Chen looked relieved that her family had located her but admitted her disappointment that she would be away from her family at midnight.

It was Jenny’s meal break, and she should have been in the employee lounge joining the festivities, but she took two plates of food to share with Mrs. Chen. She did not want Mrs. Chen will spend New Year’s Eve alone. Two other nurses followed her to Mrs. Chen’s room. As the TV screen in her room displayed the revelry in Times Square, Mrs. Chen happily ate the food that Jenny brought.

11:59 pm. Sixty seconds to go, the glittering Waterford crystal ball had already started its 77-foot descent. Mrs. Chen clapped her hands in delight as the nurses counted down.

“Ten…nine… eight… seven… six… five…four… three…two… one. Happy New Year!!!!”

Jenny hugged Mrs. Chen and pretended she was her mother back home. A flood of emotions gripped Jenny as the two women shared their loneliness. The older woman reminded her of her mom- talcum powder and cooking oil.

Jenny missed her mom terribly and wished she was with her own family celebrating the season noisily as her big family always did. Their house would have been filled with relatives enjoying a sumptuous meal after a night of fireworks display. The Filipino New Year celebration was always boisterous. During the holiday season, Jenny feels homesick for the familiar comforts of home.

The old woman’s eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling this time. “Xie-xie”. Thank you in Chinese.

Jenny was thankful for the chance to help Mrs. Chen and, even for a minute, just hugged someone who reminded her of her mother. She didn’t spend her New Year’s Eve alone after all.

She responded with “Salamat po.” Thank you in Tagalog.

Happy New Year!

A new year had just begun. At one o’clock in the morning, Jenny made her way to her car, resigned to the idea of spending the first day of the year sleeping off the loneliness.

Reese came up behind her, armed with a bouquet of flowers.

“I’ve been calling you since last week, Jenny. Why are you avoiding me? he sounded tortured.

“Just leave me alone, Reese. Stay with your ex.”

At the confused look on Reese’s face, Jenny exploded in anger and recounted all the stories she had heard of the reconciliation between Reese and his former girlfriend.

Reese vehemently denied all her accusations and proclaimed his love for Jenny. It was there, in the middle of the deserted parking garage, with fireworks in the background, that he hugged Jenny tightly. His voice quivered when he said, “Believe me, Jenny, it’s you who I love.”

Here was a successful man with everything going for him, but he opened his heart to her. With tears in her eyes, Jenny hugged him back and kissed the man she loved.

She thought, "I’m not alone after all."

LOVE POEMS #2

 

Note: 

In my nostalgic mood, I found some long-hidden juvenile attempts at poetry during my angst-filled college days. So innocent, right?
A disclaimer, not everything happened in real life. Peksman.

All Gone

I’m back, but what happened?

Are my eyes deceiving me now?

Is my heart telling me something I did not want to know?

The smiles, the laughter, the peace, the contentment.

All gone.

Now, there are doubts, insecurities, and conflicts.

I searched for things familiar and joyful.

All gone.

Our worlds are different now.

 

 

 

On the Beach

The blue water lapped on the shore

The tide brings home a school of bubbles

If only I could capture the white foams inside a bottle

For me to watch over and over again.

If only I could hold the breeze from the sea

To remind me that I am whole again

Even though you are no longer here.

 

 

Three people

Two loving one. One loving two.

Three very lonely people.

 

 

 

 If I Should Love Again    

If I find someone new

He will not be like you.

If my heart opens up again

It will not be for someone like you.

 

 

 

Too Late

I’m not sorry that I loved you.

I just wish the knowledge of it did not come too late. 

I cannot take back the pains I have given you.

Now that I found out I love you

You’re no longer around to know that I do.    

 

 

Photographs

From among faded photographs…

I picked yours out and felt the need to cry.

 

 

Following My Dreams

It’s been good while it lasted.

Exhilarating, exciting, electrifying.

Until we have to part ways;

Now, I have to follow my dreams far away from you

And now it is melancholic and heartbreaking.

What will the future bring?

 

 

I am Woman

I am strong; I am a daughter raised on resilience and faith

I grew up with laughter and with a grateful heart

I am blessed. I am strong. I am Woman.

So, move along. 

I do not need you.

I am over you.

 

 

Sorry

I never meant to hurt you

when all you’ve done is think of countless ways to make me feel special.

I have been so callous, so heartless in my desire to avoid loving you.

 

Life

Through life’s many seasons

I’ve lived, and I have loved

With all the happy reasons

Got rid of the cloud.

I’ve sailed through sunny days.

Enjoyed the rainy days, too.

Traveled to so many places

And oh, loved them so.

 

 

LOVE POEMS

 

Looking back at poems I've written during the 80s... those bittersweet romantic times of love found and lost. Some maudlin sentiments.

Like the birds in the clear blue sky

I falter, yet never stop to fly.

Met a man, held eyes with him

I blushed and remembered feelings long forgotten

Something like ... deja vu.

Oftentimes...

I would catch myself staring blankly

And I would remember far beyond in time

Of wondrous moments, of that beautiful feeling

And oftentimes...

I would reprimand myself for being such a sentimental fool.

I wish you never loved me

I wish you never even cared

And at times, I wish we'd never even met

For dear friend, it hurts to say "No"

And to know that things just couldn't be so.

I barricaded myself with insurmountable walls and built gates so high

Not wanting someone to break through my defenses...

So afraid to be exposed and let the world see...

the nakedness of my spirit, the vulnerability of my soul, the weakness of my emotions

I don't want to be hurt again.

I found you

You found me

Why is it we found we're not for each other after all?

If I meet someone... how could I tell him that I have no more love to share?

How could I admit that all these emotions have been drained from me?

Sometimes

I dream of chasing rainbows

But they would disappear once I'm on the verge of touching them

And I would then dream of you chasing me offering a plate of little rainbows

I would then turn my back and continue chasing my own rainbows

And when I wake up

I think of you and me.

ROMANCE INTERRUPTED

 

1983

I was just 23 years old, still wet behind my years, new to the US, and simply put, innocent to the ways of the world.

Dr. L was a blue-eyed blond doctor who moon-lighted every other weekend in my hospital. With his Nordic good looks, he probably had a girlfriend in every hospital he worked at, but he was the first ever non-Filipino male who caught my attention. My other friends said that he was a snob with a God complex, but for some reason, he was always nice to me.

One day, I was waiting for my turn at the cafeteria and pointed out the french fries to the cafeteria worker. From behind me, Dr. L chuckled and said, “I like french fries, too”. Who’d think that such a simple sentence would make me stammer and render me blubbering like a fool?

My heart fluttered. I was not good at small talk. I did not know how to flirt. My friends later told me that my face was flushed. I did not know at that time that some of my friends witnessed the tableau from their table.

Then, as bad timing as it can get, Dr. L’s pager beeped. A code arrest in one of the skilled nursing units. Romance (and lunch) interrupted. He looked at the soda can that I was holding, and with a sheepish smile of apology took it from me, sipped from it, returned the soda can, and said, “Thank you.”

Woah! What else can I do but give the soda can back to him and say “Take it”. He winked at me as he ran towards the code.

I don’t know how I should have handled it like a more sophisticated woman would do, but his gesture was a sensual and intimate action that I was too naive and uncomfortable to respond to. I thought, “Dalagang pilipina ako!”, a typical conservative Filipina.

Truth be told, a tiny wild part of me swooned.  But, in all my innocence and probably due to my unfamiliarity with modern courtship, I convinced myself the blatant flirting was disrespectful.

I gave him the cold shoulder the next time we met in the ICU where I worked. In my mind, he was a gigolo. When he invited me to dinner, I told him a lie, “I have a boyfriend back home. I'm engaged.”

 

2010

In my interview for a nursing director position in a New York hospital, the Chief Nursing Officer wanted me to do a Meet-and-Greet with the Chief Medical Officer, but he was out at an educational conference at that time. I was surprised to hear that the CMO was "my" Dr. L.

The internet search yielded a recent picture of Dr. L. He still sports the same round-rimmed glasses, older but still has a boyish charm that had captivated me all those years ago. I was sure that he now had a family of HIS own. I was now happily divorced myself.

On my first day at my new job, I was sitting by myself in the cafeteria, when somebody joined me at my table. There he was, Dr. L, with his soda can, "We meet again."

Surprised, I stammered, "You remember me after all these years?"

He grinned at me. “Of course, you broke my heart."

My eyebrow raised. This time, I am now mature and sophisticated, no longer that innocent girl who blubbered like a fool.

He said, "I read your resume and knew it was you. I see that you still like French fries.” His ringless hand gestured at my plate. 

Dr. L sat down and smiled his most engaging smile, and I was lost. 

THE END

Nina- If I Should Love Again

Clay Walker - I'd Love To Be Your Last

(Author's note: Year 1983 happened. Year 2010 is just a dream.)

"IT'S NOT GONNA HURT"

 

(Author’s note: I heard a cute nurse-paramedic love story on Delilah’s syndicated radio show on my way home. So, here’s what I “imagined” the story to be. I wrote this in less than 2 hours, lol.)

 

“It’s not gonna hurt”, that’s what the nurse told me when I came to the ER after an injury on the job. You see, I was a paramedic, and I had a massive crush on the nurse Liza.

 

I don’t know how it happened, but Liza started to match me with her friend Rose. Probably because Rose was also Irish like me. Probably because Liza thought I was too tall for her. She called me “Giant Finn”. She was 5’2” to my 6’, but she could handle the rowdy patients just with her look. 

 

I fell for her as soon as I saw this cute Filipina nurse finagle her way to squeeze her diminutive self among the burly security officers to jab a quick sedative in the arm of an agitated patient. And then, she proceeded to organize the officers to hold the patient while she masterfully restrained the patient to the stretcher.

She was a marvel to watch, a Wonder Woman in a sea of patients clamoring for attention. She was kind and compassionate, but tough as nails when needed. 

 

As paramedics assigned to this Level 1 trauma hospital, our crew quickly developed a great camaraderie with the ER staff. We worked together on gunshot wounds, stab wounds, accident patients, heart attacks, seizures, and the often-rambunctious intoxicated patients. 

The single males in our crew had our favorite nurses. Liza was well-liked by all, but soon, my comrades noticed that I was sweet on Liza.

 

Liza’s pixie face, pert nose, jet-black hair, those dark-brown almond eyes that were always smiling. She captivated me.

 

For whatever reason, Liza thought I liked her friend Rose. Whenever they were in Triage, she would send my ambulance crew to Rose. It was starting to become awkward, as I suspected that Rose liked my partner instead.

 

But I held off from pursuing Liza, mainly because I was tongue-tied in front of her. This giant Finn was intimidated by this tiny dynamo.

Until the day I became a patient.

 

When the EMS dispatcher sent my paramedic crew to assist a BLS team with an agitated patient, we grappled with the emotionally disturbed man who was brandishing a baseball bat. I was able to grab the bat away from the patient but pulled my shoulder in the process. Due to the adrenaline rush, I didn’t even feel the pain until somebody bumped into me. I almost fainted from the pain.

 

Liza was the trauma nurse that day. Her eyes showed concern when she saw my shoulder deformed and how I was groaning in pain. She immediately called the ED attending to order pain medication STAT. Dr. Lim said, “Finn needs his left shoulder reduced. Let’s prepare him for moderate sedation.”

My arm was in a sling. But the throbbing pain was almost too hard to endure. Liza tried to distract me with her witty banter. She teased me. “Now you know that you cannot just wrestle with your patients like that. Who do you think you are? Hulk Hogan?”

 

When Liza saw my right arm with the bulging veins, her eyes went round with delight. “Yes, I love bulging veins, especially as all my other patients earlier were difficult sticks.”

 

“It’s not gonna hurt,” Liza promised before she inserted an 18-gauge needle into my antecubital. But I screamed in pain. She had smooth hands, but I was afraid of needles (even though I love inserting IVs, go figure). I jerked my injured shoulder in anticipation of the pain from the IV angiocath piercing my skin.

 

Liza stayed with me during the shoulder reduction. After giving the analgesic and the sedation medications, she held my hand with her left hand while writing on the moderate sedation sheet with her right.

 

I did not remember much during the procedure, but I felt groggy after. I later learned that the doctor had to administer Narcan to reverse the sedation because it took too long for me to come out of my narcotic high.

 

The x-ray confirmed that my left shoulder had returned to its normal position within the socket. However, the ED attending and the resident who assisted with the procedure both gave me teasing looks before they departed the room, with me still holding onto Liza’s hand.

Just before Dr. Lim left the room, he jokingly told Liza, "Don't forget the Foley catheter". I am sure I turned red as a lobster, but Liza was furious and embarrassed, which, of course, resulted in more chuckles from the departing doctors.

 

Liza turned to me and, with a confused look on her face, asked me, “Finn, you just blurted out when you were coming out from sedation that you like me. Is it true?”

 

I grinned sheepishly, “Liza, it was always you.”

 

And that was ten years ago. “So, Delilah, can you please play a song for us for our nine-year wedding anniversary?"