Drifting Again

Four years ago we began. I suppose we never really ended, chasing the cancer cells through surgery, the terrible promise of Tamoxifen, and hospital visits again and again. Mother found her own way around the cancer there. The journey changed. The path became less clear and more muddled. It's strange in a way. Side effects of breast cancer. The trouble is dealing with that, with knowing it and living in it, walking around each day with that settled on your soul. The adjustment is not pleasant.

In many ways, I'm not sure what to expect.

A day when the thoughts are closer to the surface, when my memory of her good health is more easily accessible and the road to recovery is a little clearer. But it's still just a day. I cried, but not as much as I might have. There is no clarity, at least not anything new. Some days I feel strong, some other days even the shallowest drama on TV would bring me to tears.

She is in a hospital again. Doctors extracted the fluid out of her right lung. No big deal. Root Canal would have been longer. And more painful I guess.



But the day passed on too slow. Again. I’m counting of all the days until she is out of the hospital.

I know better to expect revelations. I know better than to expect anything at all on a schedule. It's been four years and I know that there will be more years to come. I know in the end it will settle. Not settles in the sense that it's ok, or not horrific in some way, but settles in the sense that it is not actively debilitating when it happens. Loss of any kind, especially the loss out of order of someone you love, is not a wound that heals. Closure is an impractical and misplaced goal. Mother is not a torn ligament or a broken bone, something a surgery and a few months of rehab will set right without further ado. You live with it. Your only choice is how you choose to do that.



Some people don’t know any better. Once they knew about mother, they give us the "cancer eyes." These were the eyes people, from hospital staff to strangers, would give us when they found out mother’s breast cancer. Pity, mostly. The looks I get from these acquaintances are very similar "condolence eyes." Like cancer eyes, I have little patience for them. That's not to say I do not appreciate people feeling bad about what happened to her. Of course I do. But pity does not interest me. To me, that undermines the experience. I prefer sympathy, or empathy. If people want to talk about her, I'm happy to do so. People have told me they were sorry and added something, talked about it. If they're just going to say the words for the sake of saying them though, I'd rather we skipped the formality.



I know this may sound harsh, that people just want to be kind. I know they're trying and do not mean anything by it. Still, I think it's important to recognize what's good to say and what's not. So I suppose I'm trying to say that. I am glad when people talk about her. What I am not interested in is people saying something just for the sake of saying it. Or mocking it. I did not notice it before, but I do now.

::

Thank you all for your continued thoughts and prayers.

That Was Never a Comedy For Me

I broke down in tears Sundays ago.

In front of my church friends; was literally sobbing and was crying my heart out.

I came to church in my old self. Living a normal life and just trying to work stuff out, be present as a parent, a sister, a friend while holding my self together, doing the very best I can. You know, finding beauty in things.

But things were not good lately. We have been stressing out due to mother’s condition.

I wasn’t in the best frame of mind, but I did come anyway. We’ve been MIA for 2 Sundays already. Sometimes if I ignore how I feel and just do the things I need to do, I come good.

But there was no coming good.

Between his and hellos, I told them that mother is not doing good, water was leaking in her lungs.

And then came the singing, the hand-shaking and the preaching.

The last thing I remember, the preacher, whom I know personally, told in the pulpit, in front of many, that people gets easily downed and depressed

“Because their mothers are sick”

In a mocking, amusing and comical way.

I thought I heard a few laughed with what supposed to be a joke. What is more difficult, he said the same joke one more time.

But that was never a comedy for me.

I was hurt so badly that I wept.

I came to his wife crying. I told her I was hurt. Said it was not a good joke.

I've never felt so scarily low, for such an extended period of time. I unravelled to the end of the string. It was such a relief to not pretend anymore. But then people can be so insensitive sometimes, they don’t know.

I don’t know too. It was 2 weeks already. My head says its time to move on. But my heart tells it needs more time to heal.

Selfies, Anyone?

Now on Instagram and Facebook, and probably any where else in the social media.

Selfie photos.

A singular image where face is at the center, and an outstretched arm amputated by the edges of the frame. That, and the perennially awkward gesture of pointing your camera/cell phone at a mirror.

You can say many things about the Selfie, a.k.a auto-portraiture, or better yet, ego-photography: that it is the ultimate symbol of Narcissism. You assume that people are so desperate to see your face.

Now, everyone’s an artist. Everyone’s a photographer. In the same way that everyone’s a filmmaker, everyone’s a chef, everyone’s a goddamned food critic or movie reviewer. Everyone’s doing selfies, from Justin Bieber to the Obamas. We’re all guilty of it.

Twenty to thirty years, it would have been unthinkable. It would be deemed a waste of precious Fujicolor or Kodak film. Certain generations remember how they would weep upon seeing a number of damaged/useless/out-of-focus-blurry frames at the photo shop.

But today, there fly mindless shapshots of anything: Lunch plate, shoes, toes and cuticle, dogs, starbucks cup, etc.etc.

Now, let’s sample on our selfie celebrities and tell me who is more vain and desperately insecure.

Mirror on mirror shot: "Jeez, crazy bad hair day, but I am still cute"

Duck Face: Suddenly, I got embarrassed at the thought of a selfie picture. 

Photo-op with another celebrity:" undeniably a fan"

Posing with a boyfriend looking very much in love:"Still not over your ex.."

Ad-lib Shot: "I-am-so-busy-and-cool-I-can't-be-bothered"

Staring at nothing: "How deep.."

::

Do you do selfie too?

Barefoot Contessa

Sidenote: Do you know the show? It is one of my favorites. However none of it is about the show.

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Felt like I was trapped. Can’t move. My heart was beating so fast I can hardly breathe.

Its one of those moment that you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when it happened.

Once again I am forced to wonder if I am the universe’s favorite plaything or whatnot.

Why don’t I give you a little back story.

You all have to imagine me standing at a tiled flatform of Buendia Station, and whistling Itsy Bitsy Spider. I’m surrounded by a lot of people, some nice, some really really bad. You know, pushy and all. I tell you inside it is like a sauna where air is so thin, you could almost choke on your own saliva.

But because I’m a masochist, I continue riding it.

Anyway, the train arrived. We squeezed ourselves as the door began to open. People are good at first, making a narrow line to make way for exiting people. And then they started to go narcissistic, pushing others so they can have their little spaces under the sweaty armpits of a guy in a sleeveless shirt.

I was pushed in all direction. Thought I had a broken metacarpal, a dislocated joint and a torn ligament.

All was calm until I felt shoeless. Suddenly it’s the hard floor, gone is the soft sole of my crocs gray flats.

The next 5 seconds was critical.

Should I go back for it?

To cut the chase, went back for it, because I can’t walk without one shoe. Found an extremely kind Security Guard to help me scoop it from the ground, and silently laughing at myself for that experience.

Now I know what Cinderella must feel like.

Not ready to let go of you yet..Hinde ka pa bayad!!

Moon Like No Other

Last night, while we were watching TV, the earth’s celestial neighbor appeared 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than normal. The biggest and brightest full moon of the year—called the SUPERMOON—graced the Philippine sky 7:32 pm.

It loomed larger on the horizon next to trees and buildings.

However it hid behind rain clouds.

Chances or not, could it be the reason why I am not happy?

Has the moon ate all up the good times and return with the bad times that is cancer?



Back in 2009, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 2 cancer. The next three years appeared normal. Until last month. She was sent again to the hospital for Theocentisis. A half liter of fluid was extracted from her lung. She is literally drowning. But she does not know it. She said she felt nothing. It appeared Cancer has metastised.

She grew up in a farm house in Calumpit Bulacan, said it was both tough and easy.

"Noong araw, walang tamad. Lahat may ginagawa sa loob ng bahay, kalit maliit na bata. Mahirap ang buhay, pero masaya. Naglalaro hangang tawagin na kami ni Ina dahil gabi na. Ngayon puro computer. Nakakaawa.”

I cannot agree more.

Today everything was kind of off-centre and wrong.

I worry so much, that the circumstances and stress surrounding her cancer has somehow affected her, and affected us. Though she softened a bit. She was no longer cursing when the youngest had tantrum. She leaves that already to us.

I know the panic will wear off one day, and we are left to live our lives like normal people.

Life is short. Do all of the wild and precious things you can possibly think of. Now. There won't always be time.

In the meantime ..... we're here to learn and grow and evolve, as much as we can. Be kind, man. Give of yourself to your family, and friends, and others. There's a saying that's been drummed into my head over time - you've got to give it away to keep it.

::

Kids, Inc.

Hello to you all my dear friends. I’ve been into a lot of things lately so busy I was not able to update my blog. Well lot of things would mean the youngest kid going now to school, my birthday, my mother’s hospitalization and my endless things to buy and things to do.

Well.

As I said, Yana started big school today. And neither of us cried.



There's such a revolting feeling when your child starts kindy. Who will help them open their crackers? How can they possibly go to a bathroom stall by themselves? The classroom is SO BIG, and she is SO LITTLE. How can this happen?

So we have one girl now in kindy and one boy in year four, at different schools. I keep telling my son in my best Rizzo voice that he's gonna"Ruuule the school."

By the time I was my sons's age, I was already thinking about my future like who will I marry, and how many kids will I have. I don’t feel so pretty then but I know that somewhere out there a little boy is also growing to be my husband.

I also tell him that because he is so strong and tall and popular, he has a duty to watch out for kids who need his help, who might be bullied. He tells me he does - I hope he does.

You think your kids are set once they are no longer babies, that the hardest part is over. It's not. It's a whole new ballgame, one I never saw coming until it came and I was all um, I didn't order this particular parenting sandwich?!

Fights, arm wrestling, limits ignored, harsh words. The severe worry and panic that you are totally wasting these kids up. It's completely terrifying. I just hope it's minimal, that not too much damage is being done, and that when they go out into the world they're armed with enough confidence to take care of themselves. And respect themselves and other people.



Financially, we often just lurch from one problem/crisis to the next. I've been parenting for nine years now. I've sucked at it, been awesome at it, loved it, loathed it. It demands so much, to look after people who can't look after themselves quite yet. Sometimes I count up on my fingers how many more years until it's just me and Hubs again, like, boyfriend/girlfriend.

But man they keep us anchored. And responsible. We're all just a bunch of crazy people, doing the best we can.

Would You Rather: Hot or Cold?

Happy June first, my dear friends.

June is always abuzz that is a start of a lot of things to Filipinos, especially Metro Manilans. School, traffic, and well, rainy season. Remember that scene in my beloved Calumpit Bulacan-where residents waded in knee-deep water for weeks? God forbid it will not happen again.

The title, this looks like a pretty innocent question. Did you ever ask yourself which you prefer, hot or cold? May be inane, as in not much of a debate material. But it seems that people have very strong opinions when it comes to this all-important question -- opinions that are right up their with their plans for world peace and their thoughts on the Vice Ganda- Jessica Soho ongoing issue on comedy bar jokes.

Below, the poster that plot down the plus and minus of our wet and dry weather.



I like hot weather better. Do you know that I get a bit sentimental when it rains?

The bottom line: it’s all a matter of taste. Some people like R&B, I loathe it. Some people like heavy metal songs and I would rather stick my head into a grinder.

Ultimately we do not question each other’s preferences.