Hospital Trips

The last quarter of the year was not a good time for three of mom's grandchildren.

In October, newly born Hannah Corinne, daughter of my sister Charisse, was left at the hospital for medication. She reportedly had low oxygen and was hooked to the tube. Her food was intubated as well. 

She is shown here with my sister more than a month after. She looks healthy now and has gained some weight.

The following month, it was my son Anand's turn to get hospitalized. He underwent an emergency surgery for his appendicitis.

Despite that, I still had a lot to thank God for.

First, it happened during the day and I was able to take a boat to Zamboanga at noontime. My dilemma would have been if it happened at night and there was no way I could be with him right away.

Second, the appendix did not rupture, or else he would have stayed longer at the hospital for treatment.

Third, the love and support (moral and financial) of friends and family held us through and I was at peace during those times.

I was so moved by this sight. I went home to pick up some stuff since my niece, Sheila, was around to escort Anand to the operating room. When I got back to the hospital, I learned he was already wheeled in there.  I saw his friends and classmates from the college of engineering waiting outside the operating room as he went under the knife.

 

This is my Doy the morning after, still groggy from the operation and unable to move because he was scared his wound might hurt. Friends would later tease him that he already has a built-in ATM slot on his belly.

The mother hen that I am, always making sure my son is comfortable and well taken cared of.

On the third day, he was already up and about and making up for lost time by texting friends and playing his favorite RAN online.

In December, it was Ivan's turn to get hospitalized when he contracted dengue fever. I was so much worried about it, thinking about Marichu, Anand's laundrywoman who succumbed to it.


Here he was shown going for a complete blood count laboratory exam during an out-patient medical consultation. Result suggested that he was likely to get it so another CBC exam was recommended every 12 hours.

Later that evening, the second CBC result had his platelet dropping to the borderline. So he was admitted to the hospital. He is shown here regaining his appetite and wanting so much to go home.

The doctor gave him the go signal to go home after over 24 hours of hospitalization. He is shown here goofing around his hospital room.

Thank you God for Your kindness and healing hands. Truly, You are one amazing God who worked in Your own mysterious way in bringing about healing and comfort to all of us.

Women's Day

What was co-incidental about this picture was that, I took it on women's day, March 8, 2007. As women were heralded around the world for their remarkable achievements and domestic agility, these women were unaware what was going on around the world on the day intended for them.

(Reposted: June 10, 2007)

Things I Did Last Summer

I sort of had a hectic schedule last summer. I took two weeks off from work to be with my family.

I attended the wedding of my cousin Edmy to Mayumi in Cagayan de Oro (April 9). Making the trip with me were mama, Anand, and Boyboy.

 
In the picture with me were mom, Auntie Corazon,  the groom's mother and dad's youngest sister, cousin Frances Aparte and her brother, Dante, and of course, Boyboy,who made the secondary male entourage's outfits. Frances was bride's maid while Dante substituted his dad as principal sponsor. Uncle Junior was not fit to travel from Camiguin to Cagayan de Oro because of high sugar level.

The family also spent an excursion to the high land in Tangub City which is home to Asia's longest zipline at over two kilometers. Edison and Cherry had just arrived from Saudia Arabia while Harold planed in from Singapore. He did not want to be outdone. LOL..

Since our vacation also fell on the date of dad's (seventh) death anniversary, we remembered and honored him at his grave site.

We haven't had a complete picture. One or two siblings would always be absent. At least we are 75% complete here. We missed Irma who is still in Montreal, Canada, and of course, Papa Bear.

 
I also stood as principal sponsor to the wedding of Exie Manuel to Nicole Strong Tayag. In the picture with me is former city dad, Mr. Richard Brown, the bride's uncle.

 

I also managed to enroll for a national certificate in Hotel Housekeeping.  That should come handy for overseas employment when civil service looks dim.

Here we were demonstrated with how to make a five-layer bedding. That's the butterfly style in spreading the sheet. You don't need to go from one corner to another, thus time-saving.

We were taught how to insert the extra or dangling portions.

Excuse the crumpled sheets, we were asked to demonstrate one by one. Too much handling, stripping, folding, and spreading...

This is how to make a bed ready for a guest..

What If I Had Seven Kids?

I only have one kid.

So, the room should be as orderly as this...

... and this.

But what if I had six kids? With two wrestling on the bed, one busy with PSP, two on portable computers, and one hooked to TV.

Or seven kids?
 

Looks like a typhoon has just passed through.
 

The room would be a total mess. Homaygad!

Now, I should snap me back to reality that I only have one kid. Look, how neat the room is and so in order..

Letting Go, Letting Grow

(Son is pictured with his sophomore high school buddy, Justino Daniel, who went through Geodetic Engineering school with him.)

The morning was freshly breaking when I sent off my son down to the wharf. Dressed up like a young man with hair gelled hard into spikes that looked like a nail bed, he was the first one to come to the assembly area. He was going to Zamboanga City in Mindanao mainland, an hour's travel across the sea, for the first time in all of his 13-year old life without a parent towing him. 

A song intruded into my head, "Is this the little boy at play? I don'™t remember growing older.."  I found myself humming absent-mindedly to it.

Four weeks before that, my son fidgeted and followed me around the house and calmly told me, "Mom, my Journalism class in school is going on a fieldtrip to a printing press in Zamboanga to see how a paper churns out."

It was like a doctor's gentle announcement of a breaking news. 

"When's that?" I sounded like an investigator.

"February ninth," he answered imposingly.

"œAnd how much would you be pitching in for the expenses?" My elbows were bent out in akimbo.

"I don'™t know. We are staying overnight in a hotel, but I am staying at a friend'™s house there," he rambled.

"What hotel is that?" I sounded more irritated than investigative this time.

He mentioned a name.

"What?!" I screamed. "That is a dollar hotel!"

I could hear currency signs clanging in my mind. I just spent a five-figured sum for my computer's upgrade and here was another expense looming like a tornado although not damaging enough to rip off my pockets or deplete my bank account.

"No," I said calmly. "œYou cannot go, sonny. Don't you know that the weather is bad lately? The waves are so huge out in the open sea and a boat went down the other week?" I tried to scare him, but he was unmoved.

It was my turn to ramble, "And based on intelligence report I gathered from a friend in the Southern Command military base, Zamboanga is on a heightened alert following the death of those two world-known terrorists in the nearby province. You know that bombings are everywhere. So, I simply cannot let you go, and.."

"œBut Mom, everyone'™s going and I don'™t want to miss this out," he started to protest, his voice louder than mine.

"Can the teacher take care of all eighteen of you? I'™m going to see her and lay down my conditions before you may go."

"Awww, Mom! Stop it." He hated me when I plan to launch an appointment with any of his teachers.

"œNo!" I firmly declared. "œYou are definitely not going." 

I wondered if he heard a judge's gavel hitting my mind.

I saw him reduced into a boneless heap as if it was the end of the world for him. 

"Enough of the discussion," I glared my eyes with finality.

Call it over-protection. He lived a sheltered life. He was already in the fourth grade when he was allowed to cross the street solo. For me it was a great achievement already and I took great pride in it. Much later then, he would start walking home from school, taking the 500-meter stretch with a friend who lived nearby. It was a welcome development for me. He started going on errands in town or I would leave him at the barber shop and he just found his own way home. Our city was a small place where everyone knew everyone, but my fears were undoubtedly big and unfounded. He was my baby, the only one I have in this world. It was a difficult moment to let go of his hand - alone.

Now he has grown up. He would wolf down on any food in sight as if he went through a period of famine in the Biblical times. And he could sleep like lard, refused to kiss me goodbye in the presence of his classmates, and did not want to be hugged in public anymore but loved to cuddle with me in private.

There was no way holding him now. He has literally grown up and I could no longer pin him down. I have to let go of his hand so he could explore more into the outside world without me constantly by his side. After all, at the age of nine, I was already traveling solo from one province to another. I also made my first lone overnight boat trip from Cebu to Mindanao, stopping by my grandparents'™ house along the way. At his age, I was already doing inter-island trips. I was tough, independent, and not afraid of strangers. And now this trip to Zamboanga that my son would take seemed like he was sent on a military duty overseas. Crazy feeling.

Days later, I heard feedback that the planned excursion would not push through. There were important visitors coming to school and preparations had to be undertaken. A parent already complained of the trip. The principal was sure not to approve of the plan. Good! I heaved out a sigh of relief. My soul was at peace. I felt victorious.

We have not talked of the trip anymore in the next days. Not until four days before the ninth of February.

"œMom, we are definitely going on Saturday, the tenth, but we would come back and take the last trip on the boat on the same day."

Oh, no, not again! My eyes rolled. "Wait, I a™m going to see your teacher and make her sign something that she will take care of you," I announced like a warrior waging war.

"Ewww! You are going to reprimand her, aren't you? I am big! I can take care of myself," he reasoned out.

I a™m big! I can take care of myself. I am big! I am big! I a™m big! These words rang endlessly in my ears like emergency church bells warning the townsfolk of pirates stirring the sea and making way to dry land. The words brought me to my senses. He was there, towering over me. Tall for his 13-year old frame. He was bent over me like a giant eaglet with awkward limbs ready to take the unfriendly skies with confidence and certainty.

So on the day before the departure, I went to see the teacher to talk about my concerns. We talked lengthily until I signed a paper allowing my son to go.

Shoving the waiver to the teacher, I reminded her again, "Please take good care of my son and everyone else." I was short of saying, "œHe is all I have in this world."

She laughed nervously, "œYes, of course, ma'am, I will. I understand how you feel. I also have an only child like you."

I made my way out of the library where the teacher held office. My son met me at the foot of the stairs, eager to know what transpired from the encounter. He was playing a guitar with his friend, Justino, while waiting for me to come down. His eyes were big like of a tarsier's, the world'™s smallest monkey no taller than three inches long, but with eyes like saucers. 

"Were you done talking with her?" He asked without batting an eyelash.

"Yes," I replied. "I'™m going to the office now. I'™m kind of late already."

I turned towards the pathway leading to the school gate. With my 180 degrees eyesight, I knew his eyes were following me. I returned his gaze and called out to him, "Hey, you can go to Zamboanga tomorrow."

"Yes!" he flipped in delight as if he won the millennium lottery. His joys were immeasurable as he flashed his trademark Cheshire cat's grin. He was victorious.

(Reposted: March 2, 2007)

Filipino Signs of Wit

 The Philippines is full of word play. The local accent among many Filipinos, in which English words with "F" are spelled and pronounced with the sound of "P" and V is pronounced as "B" (because the Philippine alphabet has no letters F or V), is often used very cleverly, such as, the sign in a flower shop in Diliman called Petal Attraction.

Much of the word play in the Philippines is deliberate with retailers and various businesses favoring a play on names of Western establishments and celebrities (Americans, in particular---movie stars and entertainment personalities, especially). For example, there is a bread shop in Manila called Anita Bakery, a 24-hour restaurant called Doris Day and Night, a garment shop called Elizabeth Tailoring, and a barber shop called Felix The Cut.

A bakery was spotted which was named Bread Pitt, and a Makati fast-food place selling "maruya" (banana fritters) called Maruya Carey. Then, there are Christopher Plumbing, and a boutique called The Way We Wear; a video rental shop called Leon King Video Rental; a restaurant in the Cainta district of Rizal called Caintacky Fried Chicken, a local burger restaurant called Mang Donald's, a doughnut shop called MacDonuts , a shop selling "lumpia" (egg roll) in Makati called Wrap and Roll, and two butcher shops called Meating Place and Meatropolis.

Smart travelers can decipher what may look like baffling signs to unaccustomed foreigners by simply sounding out the "Taglish" (the Philippine version of English words spelled and pronounced with a heavy Filipino accent), such as, at a restaurant menu in Cebu : "We hab sopdrink in can an in batol" [translation: We have soft drinks in can and in bottle]. Then, there is a sewing accessories shop called Bids And Pises [translation: Beads and Pieces --or-- Bits and Pieces].

There are also many signs with either badly chosen or misspelled words, but they are usually so entertaining that it would be a mistake to "correct" them. 

The following are interesting Philippine signs and advertisements:

In a restaurant in Baguio City (the "summer capital" of the Philippines): "Wanted: Boy Waitress;" on a highway in Pampanga: "We Make Modern Antique Furniture;" on the window of a photography shop in Cabanatuan: "We Shoot You While You Wait;" and on the glass front of a cafe in Panay Avenue in Manila: "Wanted: Waiter, Cashier, Washier."

Some of the notices can even give a wrong impression, such as, a shoe store in Pangasinan which has a sign saying: "We Sell Imported Robber Shoes" (these could be the "sneakiest" sneakers); and a rental property sign in Jaro, Iloilo reads: "House For Rent, Fully Furnaced" (Whew! it must really be hot inside.)

Occasionally, one could come across signs that are truly unique--if not altogether odd. A sign at the ticket booth in the ferry pier in Davao City in southern Philippines says: "Adults: 1 peso; Child: 50 centavos; Cadavers: fare subject to negotiation." (Hahaha!)

European tourists may also be intrigued to discover two competing shops selling hopia (a Chinese pastry) called Holland Hopia and Poland Hopia, which are owned and operated by two local Chinese entrepreneurs, Mr. Ho and Mr. Po respectively--(believe it or not)!

According to a Manila businessman, there is so much wit in the Philippines because ". . .we are a country where a good sense of humor is needed to survive. We have a 24-hour comedy show here called the government and a huge reserve of comedians made up mostly of politicians and retiring actors.

(Reposted: March 27, 2007)

Second of April

It is the 88th birthday of our dear Lola (grandma), the family's grand matriarch. It is also the birthday of cousin Aileen. Occasions to celebrate life. And also an occasion to celebrate eternal life. Another cousin, Josue Jr. (Filipino term for Joshua), died on Lola's birthday. And while the family was observing Josue'™s first death anniversary, Dad also died. On Lola'™s birthday.

Dad died from internal hemorrhage caused by a motorcycle accident. As I stood family spokesperson regarding dad'™s medical bulletin which turned for the worse (I sort of acted as phone operator for mom's three cellular phones -apart from two of my own- for friends and family who phoned from time to time for development), the news on tv was also blaring that Pope John Paul II has died.

Papa, it has been two years since you were gone. And you gave me the most wonderful dream of you. It was a gift of assurance that you are on the way to heaven. In my dream I saw you about to enter the pearly gates while heaven was gleaming in a kaleidoscope of bright colors in the distance, awaiting of your entry. My heart is at peace. My heart is at rest.

And while I am preparing this blog, my heart is crying as Eric Clapton wails over my headset with his song Tears in Heaven..

"Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven? Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven? Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven? Would you help me stand, if I saw you in heaven?"

Today I am longing for you. And today I am still mourning deep inside. I miss you, Papa. I wish you were still around to see your grandchildren increasing and filling the house with laughter, just like the way we filled our grandparents' house with laughter.

Dear Lord our God..

______/)______./¯"""/')
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯\)¯¯¯¯¯'\_„„„„\)

If roses grow in heaven, please pick a bunch for me. Place them in my Papa's arms and tell him they're from me. Tell him that I LOVE and MISS him, and when he turns to smile and glorify You, please place a kiss upon his cheek and hold him in Your loving embrace.

(Reposted: March 31, 2007)