Pangasinan is probably the only province that made a mark, not only in my heart, but also on my head. Yup! On my head.

It all started with a group project, a baby thesis, for one of my MA courses. Rizal, who hails from Lingayen, Pangasinan, suggested that we go to his province and interview the editors and staff writers of one of its leading community papers, The Sunday Punch. So, after all the arrangements were made, Rizal, Lea, Nikki and I set out to go to Pangasinan.

In Lingayen, we stayed at Rizal's relatives for the night. We were already resting and watching TV that time when I decided to go to the bathroom to wash my feet. And then, the unthinkable happened...

As soon as I locked the bathroom's door and stepped on the tiles, I slipped. Suddenly, the world turned upside down right before my very eyes. And even before I could react to my slip, I heard a loud "thug." The whole thing just happened in seconds so there was no time for me to think or prevent what was about to happen. It all happened in a flash. I was able to stand up, so I thought, I was okay. But as I looked down on my white shirt, it didn't seem white anymore. My shirt was covered with blood. At that point, I felt pain on my lower right head. 

Since no one knew what has just happened to me, I reached for the door knob with my hands covered with blood and turned it open. As soon as I got out, Lea and Nikki (who was talking with her boyfriend on the phone) rushed to me and asked me what the "thug" was all about. When they saw blood all over me, they panicked. Yup! They were the ones who panicked. Lea woke up Rizal who was sleeping on the couch and Nikki was giving a detailed description of the scenario to her boyfriend, all these while they were panicking. Rizal slightly woke up and assessed the situation. When he saw that I was still very much alive, he went back to sleep. Uh-huh! Dinedma ako! So, once again, Lea and Nikki had to wake up Rizal. This time, he's awake, for real. He decided to wake up his relatives so somebody can bring me to the hospital cause I was really bleeding very bad. 

When all of these were happening, Lea and Nikki were arguing if they should put hot or cold pressure to my wound. When they reached an agreement, they argued on another thing, should they put the pressure directly on my wound or was it all right that my hair was in between the towel and my wound. Well, they got their answer as soon as they brushed my hair aside. They saw the open would with blood coming out and they cannot bear to look at it so they placed back the hair that was on my wound and covered it with a towel. Hindi kinaya ng powers nila! 

Finally, Rizal and his uncle brought me to a not-so-near hospital in a tricycle with no headlights. Yup! We were rushing through the highway without any headlights. We got to the hospital safe and sound, anyway. 

At the hospital, I asked the nurse (or was it the doctor?) attending me as to how serious my wound was. He said it wasn't too deep, not too serious, but it was pretty long, about 1 1/2 to 2 inches so he had to put 6 to 7 stitches. Uh-huh! 6 to 7 stitches!!! And even though I had anesthesia while they stitched my head up, I knew and I felt I was being stitched up! UGH!

There! That's the story of my "poknat."

Our next day in Pangasinan was better. Since our appointment was scheduled in the afternoon, my friends and I went to the Lingayen Gulf to take a dip. Of course, I was left on the beach to look after our things. I had a fresh wound on my head with 7 stitches, how can I enjoy bathing in the gulf?! Hu! Hu! Hu!

There really wasn't any major changes in me caused by this "poknat," except that whenever my friends would tell a joke and I had to laugh, I had to cover up my stitches with my palm, instead of my mouth, for fear that... well, you know.

Anyway, we got through the interview just fine. We were able to get the much-needed information from the staff writers of The Sunday Punch and from its Editor-in-Chief, Mr. Ermin Garcia, Jr. (whose very kind and handsome, by the way).

The interview with Mr. Garcia could have been one of my life's achievements (the paper basically set the standards for community newspapers in the country), but the 7 stitches on my head was more memorable. Too memorable, it left a permanent mark on my head.