||: The Ketchup Freak and the Four-Eyed Dimwit

||: Since the beginning of the year, I have come to "re-discover" eating at the hospital's co-op canteen. Being item-less and going about with no salary for my final year of training, the said canteen has once again become my first choice for meals whenever food from the dietary would rather make me and the patients choose death over eating their fare.


||: Anyway, my frequent visits at the co-op canteen reminded me of an unforgettable experience with a person who I haven't seen for the longest time. Either she already died or was already treated, I really don't know for sure. What I know is that I realized I miss seeing her in the place where I usually see her... (you guessed it right!) the co-op canteen. Well, here's her story...




||: I had been wanting to write about this for months, I just didn't have the time. This incident happened a few months back, during those times when I was still living the life of a pauper because I still wasn't receiving my salary and didn't have the guts to still ask my parents for allowance.


||: I was with a co-resident at the co-op canteen having late dinner. It was about 10pm that time and we just finished doing some backlog ORs. We decided to have dinner before going home, and with the cash that we had, our only option was, naturally, the co-op canteen.


||: I recall having chicken that night. While feasting on what my wallet could afford, I noticed an old woman moving around the canteen. She was shuffling from one table to another, apparently looking for something. I couldn't extinguish my curiosity so my eyes followed her saccadically, finding out later that what she was looking for was ketchup!


||: I, too, tried to look for ketchup earlier for my chicken, but the server told me that they ran out of the condiment. That was fine with me, since I'm not really a condiment freak. But the old woman was remarkably persistent! Despite her seming difficulty in walking, she pursued going from table to table to check out each red plastic container for --what else, but-- ketchup.

||: "Ang arte naman nito," I thought to myself. "Ketchup freak. Can't she eat without ketchup?!"

||: Finally, I noticed that she was heading back to her table with a red plastic ketchup bottle. She placed a saucer in front of her and then perseveringly squeezed out every single drop of ketchup that she could out of the plastic container. After having a small pool of the condiment on her saucer, she seemed satisfied and put the ketchup bottle aside.

||: "Finally, she can eat," my thought bubble popped above me. But what happened next made me cringe in disgust. Not on the ketchup freak but on me. With her ketchup that barely filled a quarter of her small saucer, she took out a packet of crackers and dipped a piece before taking small bites. That was her dinner. That could also have been her only meal for the day. I really wanted to barf at myself that time. It really felt horrible to have thought of her that way.

||: An Ophtha resident whom I knew came in the canteen to buy a drink and saw her. The old woman was apparently her patient. She called out to her and asked her what she was doing in the hospital that late. I overheard her answer that she was there for her check-up at the OPD the following day. I felt worse.

||: I took out my wallet in an attempt to buy her something decent to eat. To my dismay, I only had twenty pesos left and a few coins in my pocket. Since it was already late, there were no longer twenty-peso treats (lugaw, pansit, spaghetti, sopas, mami, sandwiches, etc.) in the canteen. With enough change for a jeepney ride home, I got her a pack of puto worth fourteen pesos... something which could never erase my guilt from thinking bad thoughts of her. Even until now.

||: I saw her again a few weeks back. She never fails to remind me not to be judgmental and to never think badly of anyone. I still feel guilty about how badly I judged the "ketchup freak."

||: As for the four-eyed dimwit, I guess by now you know who he is.