The hard part isn’t always the exam.
Sometimes, it’s the quiet before.
The emptiness after.
The weight in your chest as you try to convince yourself you’ve done enough.
The Day Before: What Fear Looks Like When You’re Ready
I was still living alone in our rented apartment.
My review notes were everywhere.
Walls full of oversized printouts. Tables buried in handouts.
You’d think that with everything scattered around me, I would have felt ready.
But instead, I was afraid.
Terrified.
I tried to sleep early using the Headspace app—probably the only reason I managed to get some rest.
Before bed, I reviewed some coaching materials. But more than that, I played “Hashkiveinu,” that Jewish prayer of shelter. It comforted me. Made me feel less alone.
Breakfast was… Jollibee Yumburger.
Not because I craved it.
Because I couldn’t find the “lucky” Red Ribbon Empanadas or Jollibee Hotdogs that everyone said would help with board exams.
So I took what I could. A small compromise in the face of everything I couldn’t control.
Dressing Up to Survive
I took the April 2024 Physician Licensure Exam, a schedule often seen as designated for midyear interns and Seventh-day Adventists. Each exam day was a mental marathon. The board exams were spread across two Sundays and two Mondays. Day 1 was all about Biochemistry, Anatomy and Histology, and Microbiology and Parasitology. Day 2 covered Physiology, Legal Medicine, Ethics, and Medical Jurisprudence, and Pathology. Day 3 tackled Pharmacology and Therapeutics, Surgery and Ophthalmology, Otolaryngology and Rhinology, and Medicine. Day 4 wrapped up with Obstetrics and Gynecology, Pediatrics and Nutrition, and Preventive Medicine and Public Health.
I had my clothes planned like it was war.
Day 1: my lucky shirt, internship white coat.
Days 2 and 3: my clerkship uniform.
Final day: another lucky collared shirt, again with my white coat.
I also wore the red socks I got from KFC the previous Christmas. Anything red felt like a small layer of armor.
I wore red boxer shorts, bought specifically for the exam.
I brought four of my wife’s handkerchiefs, one for each exam day.
While I did not wear it, I held on to a necklace with wooden beads and a semicolon pendant.
I kept an angpao with ₱200 that I hung on my door since Chinese New Year.
Did I believe in luck? Not really.
But maybe desperation teaches you new forms of prayer.
Messages, Mindset, and Mall Directions
Before I left, I got messages from friends, co-takers, and of course, my wife.
They didn’t just cheer me on. They anchored me.
I was shaking.
But I also felt calm.
Not because I was sure of passing—but because I had done everything.
And I told myself that was enough.
The Exam Days: Four Rounds of Holding It Together
Day 1
Venue: A mall in Oton, Iloilo.
Far. Remote. No rooms—just rows of examinees filling an open mall space.
My group number? 5.
Seat number? 13.
Some would say unlucky.
I told myself it was the perfect number to do my best.
The aircon wasn’t strong where I sat.
Sometimes, direct sunlight would hit my chair and I’d start to sweat—not just from nerves.
The first question? I don’t even remember.
I probably got it wrong.
But somehow, I felt okay.
I pushed through the questions.
When panic came, I closed my eyes for a second. Then moved to the next.
Shading took time—I’ve always been slow at it—but I kept pace.
The hardest part?
Biochemistry. As always.
But Microbiology and Parasitology? Manageable. Confusing, but I felt sure of my footing.
I ended the day by going home, ordering food, and reviewing again.
Sleep was a must, so I forced it.
Day 2
Same process.
Yumburger again.
New handkerchief.
New questions.
After the exam, I ate, napped, then faced the fact that there were still two days ahead.
There was no celebration.
Just a quiet return to programming.
The Long Break Between
Five days between exams doesn’t sound like much.
But mentally, it was exhausting.
I didn’t talk to anyone, except my wife.
I stopped myself from rechecking answers—didn’t want to spiral.
The goal was simple: protect my peace.
Day 3
The venue hadn’t changed, but I had.
More tired.
More desperate.
But still determined.
This time, I wore my clerkship uniform again.
Another handkerchief.
Still bringing the same necklace.
Some subjects blurred together.
But every hour felt like survival.
Day 4
The last day.
I wore a different collared shirt—another lucky one—and my white coat again.
Seat 13, one last time.
I didn’t feel joy.
I just wanted it to be over.
I just wanted to rest.
When I finally walked out of that venue, I felt like someone who had recovered from a long illness—
Only to realize that pain had become part of my baseline.
Ritual Complete: Beer, Money, and Silence
I went to a convenience store right after and used the ₱200 from my angpao.
I bought food.
Drank a cold beer I had saved for this moment.
Messaged my wife.
And told my friends I did it.
Then I asked my wife if I could sleep.
I passed out for more than 12 hours.
The Aftershock
I didn’t cry. Not right away.
I felt a prick lifted from my chest—
But it was soon replaced by palpitations.
Relief came, but so did self-hate.
I felt worthless again.
Like maybe I didn’t do well enough.
My wife told me to rest.
To pray.
To hope for the best.
She saw right through me.
And I’m grateful.
What Helped Me More Than I Thought
I overprepared, it’s true.
I juggled Topnotch, ExpertMD, Focus, Cracking D’ Boards, MedQBank.
And all of it came in handy.
But the unexpected helpers?
- The Headspace app.
- My prayer playlist.
- My red boxers.
- That semicolon necklace.
- My wife’s handkerchiefs.
- And “Hashkiveinu,” which wrapped me in peace when my brain refused to quiet.
Also—my mind game.
Two weeks before the exam, I told myself: Try to top it.
Not because I believed I could, but because the effort might get me somewhere close.
It did.
Not to the top, but to a place I never thought I’d reach:
A quiet confidence.
If I Could Talk to That Version of Me
I’d tell him:
“You did great. Everything you gave was enough.”
“You would’ve been okay even if you failed. But you didn’t.”
“You survived in every way that mattered.”
[BONUS] Filipino Exam Superstitions: An (Un)Official Survival Guide
Because sometimes, surviving means doing whatever it takes to feel ready—even if it sounds ridiculous.
Food-Related Rituals
- Red Ribbon empanadas – Believed to bring good luck when eaten on exam day
- Jollibee hotdog – A common “lucky” snack
- Pancit before exam day – For “long life” and long memory retention
- Avoid eating chicken – Because “manok” pecks/scratches and is said to symbolize mental confusion
- Avoid tough foods – So the test won’t be “mahirap nguyain” too
Clothing Rituals
- Wearing red – For good luck and power
- Same shirt for all exam days – If Day 1 felt okay, no need to change the energy
- Undergarments turned inside out – Said to reverse “bad luck”
- Lucky socks, handkerchiefs, or accessories – Even better if gifted by someone special
- Red socks from anywhere – Because anything red counts
Objects & Charms
- Rosaries or crosses tucked in pockets
- Pencils sharpened by a previous topnotcher or important person – To channel their knowledge or an inspiring person’s belief in you.
- Angpao with money – Hung on doors or kept in wallets for abundance
- Photos of loved ones or mentors – Carried for strength
Environmental Preparations
- Printouts on walls – Not just for memory, but to saturate the space with purpose
- Big “#LicensedMDMonthYear” signs – Visual affirmations of success
- Avoid sweeping the floor the night before – So luck doesn’t get “swept away”
Behavior-Based Beliefs
- No crying the night before – Might “wash away” your knowledge
- Avoid talking about failure – What you say might happen
- Don’t revisit hard questions after exam day – So as not to “invite” failure energy
You probably have your own rituals.
Some weird. Some sacred. Some personal.
They might not make sense to anyone else.
But if they helped you believe in yourself—even just a little—
Then maybe that’s all the magic you needed.