She Who Forgets He Who Remembers

The Progressive, The Irreversible, and The Incurable

March 27, 2009

"I need the manuscript on my desk next Friday." 

Ver, my conscientious and dedicated editor-in-chief, gently reminded me as he passed by my work station. 

"Aye, aye, Captain!" 

I exclaimed as I jumped to my feet, making him look at my direction. As usual, my right hand instinctively touched my head. He smiled and nodded, acknowledging the salute.

"You still have more than a week to edit the manuscript, Jaune. I know you are good. No, not just good, even outstanding, and you've already proven yourself a lot of times but we have to maintain the high ratings of the show. We've published interesting stories in the past months, thanks to your impressive research and writing skills, but remember that this special documentary will be featured on the show's anniversary episode." 

Ver heaved a deep sigh, as if tired of keeping up with the demands of this job. It's saddening to see him this way for it is not his usual self. The Ver I know encourages everyone in our team to be the best we can be. I've never heard him curse nor yell at anyone, even when we commit mistakes. He is the foundation of our team, one of the few people who keep us going. 

"I never wanted to pressure you but I believe that you can give justice to this story."

I nodded. As much as I love hearing him compliment my work, I can't help but be burdened with the weight of the task on my shoulders. I have to do well, no, I have to do better, far better than all the other projects I've worked on. A lot of people may have praised and recognized me for my previous works but I can't always dwell on my past victories. Sooner or later, our rival networks will come up with much better content and if that happens, we might be left behind.

But I can't let that happen—I won't. Not when I see my colleagues' sacrifices just to make the show better. I am not willing to see their efforts go down the drain. I will make sure that our anniversary episode will be a big hit and that it will receive positive feedbacks, not only from the board but, most importantly, from the audience. 

"I'll do my best to give the most accurate and most impressive storyline for the show's anniversary special," I replied with a big smile, neglecting the tightness in my chest. 

But, honestly, I've never been this anxious in the past half a decade of being a journalist. 

I and my team received several recognitions for the projects we've worked on in the last two years and we hope to get more in the future. This story will help us get the award we've been looking forward to. But, of course, I am aware that it won't be that easy. The competition gets particularly stronger every year, and everyone seems to get better in his respective craft. 

Maybe, it is about time to make some changes in the accustomed formula of delivering excellent stories. 

And it will start with me.

I took a sip of my coffee—my second cup since this morning—and flipped the pages of the draft I just printed. I spent the last two weeks reading different materials—from scientific journals to magazines to anecdotes. 

So far, I've interviewed some of the specialists in the medical field, have taken down important and interesting notes, and have restudied the details I've collected and organized. Ver is right, I still have more than a week to work on this story—to recheck the information and rewrite some parts to make the content more appealing. 

It is important to get the public's attention, but what you do with it is beyond significant, I thought.

Last year, Ver gave me the chance to deliberately choose the topic I would like to feature in the show. And being a nerd deep within, I unapologetically presented my ideas to which he instantly agreed. Finally, after several years, I am given the opportunity to bring my lost dreams into the small screen.

I was in high school when I took interest in Biology. At that time, I was sure that I wanted to become a medical doctor, a neurologist in particular. I've always been fascinated on how intricate the human brain works. I've read several medical books and even stayed up late at night just to watch medical-related documentaries, movies, and TV shows.

Unfortunately, my parents cannot afford to send me to medical school, so I just decided to pursue my second love—writing. And since then on, I vowed to be the best journalist I could ever be. I promised to give my best shot in every project—with the prime purpose of educating the public. 

In college, I have always hoped to use the media and its massive influence to broaden people's knowledge and perspective on health, social, political, and educational matters. Honestly, I have nothing against entertainment. But I despise the idea of using the media for the sole purpose of having fun or for just showing fictional stories that will make every girl's heart flutter.

Don't get me wrong. I am not against any romantic, comedy, or entertainment shows. It's just that I believe that we can use the media's influence to create an impact on the lives of other people, to make them more aware of their reality and to convince them that they can do something about it, that even the minor positive changes they make may turn into a purposeful habit.

I stared at the manuscript in my hands. For the past days, I have debated with myself about the title of this episode. And after much consideration, I decided to settle with one—one that is scientifically accurate yet emotionally appealing.

My phone suddenly rang and my eyebrows furrowed at the unregistered number on the screen. 

"Hello! Who's this?"

"Hello, Miss Laurent. This is Jessica Valdez, Dr. Fabien's secretary. I regret to inform you that Dr. Fabien hasn't been feeling well for the past few days. He won't be able to attend your scheduled interview tomorrow."

"I understand. Thank you so much for informing me. Uhhmm... by any chance, is there someone who I can interview instead?"

I closed my eyes, praying for an affirmative response. My schedule has been set for the next few weeks and it would be difficult for my team to set an interview with another specialist. We need to book an appointment at least one week prior to the preferred date. 

"Yes, Ma'am.  Don't worry, Dr. Fabien already asked Dr. Dufort to do the interview with you instead."

I raised an eyebrow at the mention of his name. That arrogant bastard. It could be anyone but him.

"Miss Laurent? Are you still on the line?"

"Yes, Jessica. Please stop calling me Miss Laurent. Jaune will do. By the way, thank you very much for the good news." 

Good news? Since when did talking to that bastard become a good news?

"You're welcome, Miss Jaune. See you tomorrow." 

"See you!" 

I hang up the phone, took my bag, and hurriedly went to the parking lot. The mere thought of interviewing that arrogant man makes my blood boil. 

But you don't have any choice. You need his help and you can't risk the team's goal for your personal issues, a part of me started the sermon. 

There's no need to look for another resource person. It's just a simple interview with him. It won't harm you in any way. 

I hope so. I am afraid that I'd be directly rushed to the emergency room due to high blood pressure at the mere sight of that guy. 

It looks like I have no choice but to be more friendly. I need to remind myself that the accuracy of the manuscript is my top priority. It's not as if it is my first time to talk to people I am not comfortable with. Being in the field for five long years gave me several opportunities to meet a long list of difficult people. And I survived every encounter with them. Most importantly, I got the details I wanted from them.

I reached my car and shoved my hand inside my pocket to get my keys. But there was none. I cursed under my breath upon realizing that I left them on my table. 

How many times have you forgotten your things behind this week?, a part of me scolded myself. I must be so preoccupied that I keep on forgetting my stuff in different places.

I walked back to the elevator and pressed the number 5 button. My obvious irritation was turned into a broad grin at the thought of the manuscript's title. 

Alzheimer's Disease: The Progressive, The Irreversible, and The Incurable