Poppy

By Riva Aleina Mendoza, Junior Copyreader

In Far Eastern University, Medical Technology (MedTech) students share the same dream: to wear that white clinical uniform and blue scrub suit. And as someone who was fated to wear one, I sometimes wish I were not. Because no reference book nor one-and-a-half-hour lecture would have told me that chasing the dream meant crashing down and losing myself.

Don’t get me wrong—I am grateful. I am blessed to have been given the chance to stay and pursue what I have been working on for the past years. My journey has been long and chaotic, from failing my freshman year moving exams to rushing my Biochemistry finals in my second year.  

And finally, two years of hard work were made worth it by one email that read: “Congratulations. See you in white!”

But now that I am halfway through my first semester as a MedTech junior, the excitement I once felt—to learn, to finally wear the scrub suit I have always admired—is just gone.

Every assigned reading feels like a death sentence. Having up to 10 assessments in a day, which was not new, now feels foreign. The same routine I’ve always had—staying up until 3 a.m., studying what was needed—is now something I cannot drag myself to do.

You would think performing an erythrocyte sedimentation test would have made me ecstatic, because finally, I get to practice what I’ve only been dreaming about. But no. It just felt like another lesson for me to write under my ‘to study’ list and another 20-item quiz for me to take.

Now, the once-eyed blue scrubs just feel a little heavier to wear. The chore of washing and steaming my uniforms feels more like a burden rather than a granted wish, a weight I never thought I would carry.

Third year was never built to be easy. Taking five professional courses while writing your thesis paper always meant a challenge. We were always reminded of that. 

The new hybrid setup made it even more unbearable, with supposed ‘reinforcements’ rarely an occurrence due to time constraints or activities scheduled for the class period.

Nevertheless, even with the challenges, I always thought of myself as capable, that I could handle everything, just like how I used to.

But nothing tastes more bitter than unmet expectations and disappointment. 

In one course, I barely passed one out of five quizzes; in another, a one out of 20 mark. Suddenly, from aiming to be the highest, the safe 50 percent seems like an achievement.

And I hate it. Because once, I was one who never went complacent. I would get tired, sure, but never completely let myself fail and simply thought, “Well, lahat naman kami bumagsak, eh. Bawi na lang ako.” 

But now I wonder if I still belong. I see my blockmates eager to learn, while I’m here, questioning if the chance given to me should have gone to someone else; if this dream is really mine to live. 

They say it is supposed to be hard because we are saving lives, but must it cost our own? When striving for excellence starts to dim our own light, we must ask—is the system really molding us for greatness, or merely normalizing burnout as ‘part of the process?’

And perhaps we cannot change something that is set before us. But someday, once we are in the field, we can build a more humane system for those who will come after us. One that does not equate success to losing pieces of ourselves in the process. 

Until then, we keep going. Because somewhere beneath all the doubt lies a little flicker of resilience—one that reminds us why we stood our ground and came this far. A reminder of why it mattered so much.

In the little wins amid overwhelming failures, in laughing with blockmates despite the shared exhaustion, and in the little joy in simply understanding concepts amid a sea of confusion, lies hope that someday, the spark will come back.

And maybe the prestigious blue scrub suit was never stitched for perfection, but rather made for those who choose to wear it even when it feels heavy.

After all, we still choose to fight. We show up. We try. And maybe that is something worth holding on to for now.

I do not have everything figured out, but perhaps part of the pursuit is to not know—to sit with uncertainty. Maybe the spark is not yet gone, just dimmer, unnoticed beneath the exhaustion. Someday, the blue scrubs will no longer feel too tight—just tailored-fit for me to move and breathe a little bit easier.

(Illustration by Mary Nicole Halili/FEU Advocate)