Day 315: 11.17.2017

Productive day, yay!

✔ CT Scan @St. Lukes, BGC – 5:00 AM
✔ Renew NBI Clearance @Shaw Center Mall – 12:00 NN
✔ Deposit check @BPI Sikap – After NBI appointment

I want to do more like write a story, read more MW stories, or actually start on my PTC forms, but I’m so freagin sleepy. I need proper 8-hour sleep later.

Nonetheless, one more thing to tick today!

✔ Update blog! 😀


Day 314: 11.16.2017

It’s a tiring day. But I think, other than being physically tired, being in the presence of my father always tire me out.

I mean, I understand that he wants some things done–fast–while he’s still here, but I really don’t appreciate him being all bossy with me. I am obedient, but I will do things in my own pace. Nonetheless, I’ll make sure that things will be accomplished if I commit to doing them.

So dear father, you know that I am nice, but learn when I start feeling abused and tired of the situation. Know when to shut up and let me rest.

Day 313: 11.15.2017

Dad’s out of the hospital!!! Thank gosh. It’s been a tiring, tiring ordeal physically, mentally, and emotionally. Nonetheless, I’m glad that it has been less stressful compared to when Tita was hospitalized and after two days, more or less Dad’s conditioned has improved. There are still some questions that need answers, but we can take steps for it outside the hospital. The bill has blown out of budget, and that was another concern of course. Nonetheless, my dad’s condition was actually an emergency, so I’m grateful that he was forced to be admitted to the hospital already. So we have to do a CT scan of his whole abdomen in another hospital soon then send it to his doctor here so it can be coordinated with his doctor in America. Of course, as his personal secretary and all around chimay, I will be the one in charge of forwarding his documents later. Anyhow, I’m just happy that we’re back in the house. The hospital is a very stressful place to be. Somehow, I think being a patient in a hospital makes them more ill because everything there emphasizes that one is ill: being attended by nurses and doctors, the machines connected to one’s body, the medicines charged to your bill, and the fact that one is held hostage to a bed. At least at home, there’s comfort in the fact that you can leave anytime you want.

Day 312: 11.14.2017

I don’t want to subscribe to any beliefs when it comes to love (romantic), but any of those famous beliefs about it could be true depending on how people experience it.

I’ve long stopped waiting for it, but time and time again, I get hit with the possibility that hey, the possibility still exists. I could be attracted or in love with a person, and I won’t even know it.

Now, what made me say this?

I just realized that I have a crush on one of dad’s doctors. He’s one of the residents of that floor, and he was the doctor who calmed me down when dad had that scary sodium episode.

It’s strange because physically, he’s not my type. I didn’t even know I could be attracted to someone like him. I guess it will always be the personality that attracts me most.

He’s actually a big guy, but a gentle-looking one. Like a baby bear who looks like a daddy bear. I think he’ll give really great hugs, and I can cry on him and he’ll make everything better. He’s the perfect guy to be around when you’re panicking and stressed because his voice is so calming. Actually, he sounds a bit gay (ahaha), but what the hell. He’s charming!

Haaaay. How I wish I’d see him again. Somehow.

(Hi, Dr. Claudio. ^_^)

Day 310: 11.12.2017

Dad had a very strange episode at midnight. And I swear, it was like reliving a nightmare I once had when Tita was the one sick.

It started with him feeling nauseous after being given antibiotics through IV. When I reported this to the nurse, she asked if he ate a heavy meal. I reported no because we’ve informed them that he didn’t have the appetite. It was one of the problems we wanted to address, thus our decision to seek medical aid. I actually got mad at the nurse because I felt that they left out some vital information regarding readying the body to receive medicine. I mean, I know it is a holiday and they are probably understaffed, but lives are on the line here. You can’t use that as an alibi for a health hazard. Anyhow, my dad felt like vomiting every now and then, but nothing was coming out. He even tried gagging himself, but nothing was really coming out. He said that in previous days, vomiting helped elevated the nausea. Later, he was able to defecate. It was quite a lot–and so noisy! After that, he said he felt so much better, thus, he was able to sleep. The cough and hiccup that came with the nausea also minimized.

What came after was the shock of my life.

Dad suddenly started mumbling while sleeping. I found it odd, but I shrugged it off because I was actually happy for him. He might’ve been so relieved that he was sleeping so deep and dreaming aloud. A few minutes after, he woke up and said he needed to pee. He got up, and then said “Nawala na.” I was like, huh? Then I noticed that he was already peeing in his pants! I was alerting him about it, but he seemed so out of it. He mumbled many things I didn’t understand, and I kept talking to him, asking him to tell me how he feels, clarify what he’s talking about, begging him to tell me if he’s done pooping or peeing, and to help himself in standing up, because I can’t fucking lift a 180lbs, 6 foot person by myself!

Writing about this episode is sending me waves of panic again like how it was that night, so I’ll summarize the event.

Basically, my dad pee three times more in his pants, he recognized us, but he couldn’t complete his sentences. He was unaware that he was peeing himself, nor he had any control over his bladder. He was like a baby. I called the nurse and a doctor came over to see what was happening to him. Apparently, his sodium level dropped to a critical point that he was already in delirium, he was confused, and he had no control over his muscles. If his sodium level lowered more, he could’ve gotten a seizure or a heart attack.

Needless to say, it was a sleepless night. I asked my younger brother to take the day off from work because I needed help with dad and I had to rest. I just really needed to rest–my body, my heart, and mind. In the midst of that chaos, I had to keep my mind calm, and it was exhausting.

Day 309: 11.11.2017

Hospitals would always break me the way that I don’t even understand how it was able to in the first place. I thought that after surviving the challenge of not breaking down in the middle of a battle that hostage my heart and mind, I was invincible. I could thrive wars with composure, with sanity, without the need to bleed from memories of it.

I guess I was wrong.

Every time I step into a hospital, my heart squeezes and I always want to cry. The memories I had with Tita, going through the process of discovering her cancer from what we initially thought was just a mild stroke; going with her to the numerous lab exams and imaging procedures; consulting doctors for answers; working through medicines in takes and budgets; the gradual digression of her once amazon-like body to a crippled woman who cannot remember my name at times even when I spend the whole day with her taking care of all her needs; cheering her when she was confused and scared of what was happening to her body and her memories that were slipping, too often, too fast; the sleepless nights checking if her blood pressure is not dropping and praying she doesn’t die; talking to doctors who I doubt are sincere in their work because the way they treat their patients is all routine, an item in their day’s checklist; feeling guilty the whole time because I had to decide for everything and there was probably one misstep and it all fell from there; and the bitterness of needing to stay strong, all the fucking time because there wasn’t really anyone, even her family, who would and could stay with her during that very painful time.

All those feelings came crashing to me when I had to take my dad to the hospital today. His condition had been unstable and his symptoms was not normal anymore. This was how Tita and I began, but I hope the journey wouldn’t be the same anymore. I realized, that being in a hospital triggers very sad memories. I didn’t realize, until now, that the experience was actually very traumatic for me.

Nonetheless, I fight. The choice is mine, and my choice is to fight. But let me tell you, fighters get tired too.

Day 308: 11.10.2017

Classes were suspended today as there was a storm yesterday. It’s so funny because every time classes are suspended ahead to prevent students from getting stuck in the rain the next day, the weather presents itself pristine, warm, and very dry. Of course we like the extra day off, but the suspension of classes definitely shakes up weekly instructional plans and other schedules.

I guess, after what happened during Ondoy, the torrential rain that flooded most of Metro Manila and stranded so many people as they were going home, the government got paranoid with it. A few rain or a storm, suspend! Preventing the worst of a situation, but I think they really should invest in better weather forecast tools!

Day 307: 11.09.2017

I’m not sure what it is with today, but it’s freakin stressful.

Found out my dad’s condition has gotten worse, so we have to take him to the hospital very soon to confirm what’s happening to his body. Hopefully, nothing serious.

Then, I found out that a friend overdosed. Hopefully, she wakes up soon. I’m not the best type of friend for depressed friends because I don’t really know how to lambing friends which I think they need, but I do hope she continues to fight through her depression. I’m very proud of her because despite all those times her demons attack her, she always fight–and win over it.

Day 306: 11.08.2017

“Naging masama ba akong ama?”

I’ve been asked this question so many times that the last time I was asked again, I began doubting my answer.

And that disturbed me.

There’s a lot of shitty things in my life and I can easily point out to my family as one of them. Since childhood and family creates a big impact to a person’s personality, then that easily answers the question why I have a jaded side.

My parents separated when I was two years old. Young as I was, I somehow understood that my parents were not going to live in the same house anymore, and I will only see my father twice a week, every weekend when I don’t have school. He will pick me on Friday evenings and take me home on Sunday evenings. I don’t remember much of my bondings with my dad during these weekends, only fun times with my cousin since my dad and his brothers’ family were always together so they can play cards, and the kids can play videogames or house.

So really. Even when I spent enough time with him (technically), the emotional connection was probably never established properly. He was busy with work, perhaps finding another woman to hold, and I was just going with the flow.

They said I was an obedient a child. A strangely quiet child who was mature for her age. So I basically followed what my parents agreed with, received and said thanks to obligations provided (schooling, gifts, time), but in retrospect, no wonder my father is so wounded to have his “angel” grow up to be this independent, outspoken, always going against his thoughts and plans kind of daughter.

Oh, how time changed…me.

But to answer his question, NO, HE IS NOT A BAD FATHER. In terms of providing for what we need and fulfilling obligations, he provided well. Yes, we hear a lot of complaints and sarcastic remarks in the process of asking them from him, and specific requests for gifts he specifically asked from us set aside for his own preference (style and budget) in the end, and us getting the “hindi nalang kayo magpasalamat” line from him when we express disappointment, but yeah, he provided. Perhaps it’s his parenting style that does not match our personality, especially the personalities we developed while he was absent for most of our formative years.

Sadly, my dad does not understand this.

He’s too proud as a father, as the padre de familia, to accept that we have grown out of the image he crafted of us. We are not the ideal children, nor is he the ideal father. We’re not in a film because real life is much more complex than what movies could ever offer us. We are not robots. We cannot be as easily malambing and caring just because he is family. A person who came from a complete family would probably disagree with me, and I understand that, but this reality exist where I’m coming from.

I probably have a different definition of family than others. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be that movie-type of daughter for her father if I could. My dad is 58 years old, he’s alone, and he doesn’t know what he is doing wrong, and he doesn’t even want to admit that he is wrong in the first place. Believe me, I want that turning point in a movie like Tanging Yaman just so I can fix our relationship; just so our whole family will be fixed.

So dear Daddy, no, you’re not a bad father. You just don’t know what’s going on because you chose to just put forward your achievements and what you have done for us to get our sympathy, not our love. I know you try, I know you really do. But there’s not enough time for us to be together, and I think a month long vacation is going to fix years of a heart’s absence.

So please, please, don’t ask me this question again. It’s always so hard to answer, especially when the answer is morphing into something unfavorable, but real.