Sick of My Sickness

Hyperthyroidism, according to my doctor, is caused by stress mainly. Looking back now, it makes sense that I had it when my father was battling with cancer and, subsequently, lost it.

There was a time when I stayed with my ailing father for a few days at the hospital and I came home feeling ill myself. I couldn’t get out of bed for more than a week. I had the flu (yes, for the first time in my life), had a splitting headache that didn’t leave me until the ninth day and generally felt weak all over. I was no hypochondriac. But I was convinced there was something terribly wrong with my body.

And so I was off to a neighborhood clinic to get my blood pressure checked. It was normal. Then there was this eye doctor who made me do this costly periphery test and made me wear a pair of new eyeglasses. Nothing there. Then I consulted an EENT specialist as there was a constant buzzing in my right ear. I had a hearing exam and a few more tests. Again, nothing. It was the same doctor who, upon inspecting my throat on my next visit and finding it bigger than usual, recommended that I get a test for thyroid problems. With results in hand, I went straight to an endocrinologist who finally confirmed that I was sick with hyperthyroidism.

Before my bout with hyperthyroidism at 125 lbs., May 2006

Sick with hyperthyroidism at 105 lbs., September 2006

So without having to undergo these needless tests and without unnecessarily parting with quite a hefty sum, how do you know if you’re afflicted with this particular disease?

1. For me, the first indicator was weight loss which should have been a good thing except that it wasn’t since it was brought about by some form of illness.
2. My hands, suddenly, had a life of their own and I couldn’t stop them from trembling. This was especially evident in my handwriting.
3. I was always feeling weak and tired which was weird for a hyperactive person like me.
4. I couldn’t do anything without panting like a dog in the end. Plus, I would have palpitations that would sometimes make my chest hurt a little.
5. My skin was so dry “you could actually write the word dry right on your hand”. (Vaseline or Jergens?)
6. My hair was falling at an unbelievable rate it made me panic. There was lots on my pillow, on the floor, in the bathroom. Everywhere.
7. I had to make frequent trips to the bathroom which I guess partly accounted for the weight loss.
8. My mood swings were becoming more frequent. And no symptom could be worse as far as my poor husband was concerned.

So how did I get cured?

1. I took an anti-thyroid agent, the dose of which was gradually decreased as I got better.
2. I took steroids for about three months for my thickening throat.
3. I abstained from sugar for a month so that my limbs won’t go numb. But this was more preventive than therapeutic. And this, I must say, was the hardest part.

Is it a serious condition, you may ask.

1. Not so much. But if left untreated, hyperthyroidism could lead to heart failure or, worse, thyroid storm that may cause coma or death.
2. Yes. If you do not want an unsightly scar on your neck.
3. Absolutely. If you have enough vanity in your make-up not to want to look like you came straight from Halloween, bone-thin with eyes that would make anyone think they were about to fall off their sockets.

Now, my thyroid problem is back — for reasons I have yet to know — though not as bad as before since I have become quite an expert at detection. But still, I hate having to stay away from sweets. I hate queuing at the drugstore for my medicines. And having to come back again and again to my doctor who has over 30 patients waiting in line each time — God, that's what I hate the most.

I See Dead People

Yes, I know it's a famous line from a movie but my experiences with the unknown are anything but reel. Well, not really unknown. After all I know these people, er, souls I mean.

My very first sighting was way back when I was still a college kid who slept on a big bed with my sister beside me. It happened sometime between midnight and 4 in the morning. I woke up with a start for no apparent reason. And there standing on the foot of the bed was an old Spanish-looking lolo with white thinning hair wearing dark-rimmed glasses, black knit cardigan over a pair of dark carsonsillos. He was enveloped in brilliant white light and he was looking straight at me with a benevolent smile. Of course, I did not smile back! How could I? I hurriedly put my blanket over my head and moved a little too close to my snoring sister. It was a wonder I did not let out a scream at all.

By morning, I had forgotten all about it and was only reminded of it when my sister complained about my cramming into her in the wee hours of the morning. Oh yes I said, I saw a ghost but had no idea who it was. So I described the apparition and she promptly said it was Mamay, our paternal grandfather. Yeah, that was him all right. I was only 4 years old when he died so I did not recognize him when he appeared before me. And wait, that day was his death anniversary!

Another sighting was right after I gave birth to Indie in the room where I was confined at St. Luke's. You see my old maid aunt, whom we fondly called Ate, passed away just 20 days before. She was like a second mother to me and my sisters. And I was sure she would have wanted to see her new apo and take care of me after labor. I saw her at the door smiling a happy smile. She asked if she could visit me and I readily said yes. So she glided (yes glided, as if she were on roller blades!) to the foot of the bed and stayed there, forever smiling, until I fell into a deep sleep.


The last was Christmas of 2007. It was our second without my father and I just thought I missed him. I remember saying it aloud, not for anything. But maybe somehow he heard me. Because as I was sitting somewhere in the dining room in our Batangas home, I saw him walking from my mother's bedroom to the living room and then poof! he was gone. He was my father so I wasn't the least bit scared. What struck me was the clarity of the vision, not hazy at all. He was wearing his favorite Christmas outfit of red shirt and white shorts. He did not move nor act in a ghostly kind of way. It was like he was alive, so alive that for a moment I forgot he was already dead.

There were other encounters with strange souls but I'd rather not go into these. That would be too creepy, even for Halloween.

P.S. When Indie saw Ate's picture, she said she knows her and she has seen her already...

Project Run Away

One afternoon at home...

INDIE : Mommy, I want to go home—

ME : You're home baby.

INDIE : No, I want to go home to Balayan.

ME : Why?

INDIE : I want to go home to Inay's house. I want to sleep there. I don't like na here.

ME : Why? Are you not happy here?

INDIE : (Nods her head emphatically.)

ME : Why? Tell Mommy.

INDIE : Because Papa is mad at me.

Today's generation is far more advanced than ours it seems. When it occurred to me to run away from home, I was a teenager with angst in my heart. And here's my little girl, sans angst — I would like to believe — but already with big plans of leaving home. At the very young age of three.

Wannabes 2010

Already, they are forcing their way into our consciousness. Invading all forms of mass media. Imposing their presence anywhere we care to look or listen. They are 2010's presidentiables. Or so they would like to believe. Or so they would have us believe.

Ideally, a presidentiable should be someone who has the ability required of a President as opposed to someone who has the ability to run for President by virtue of economic power, assumed popularity, unparalleled ambition or just plain greed. Come to think of it, it is actually rare to have somebody among those seeking the presidency who is really capable of doing the job.

Elections, Philippine style, are more like circuses, taken seriously only by those in the running who sing and dance to an electorate that appears to be in need of entertainment rather than leadership. A candidate's qualifications are the least important criterion in a contest where the country's fate hangs in the balance. Anyone can make a go for Malacanang. Crooks. Movie stars. Shameless turncoats. Human rights violators. Anyone.

Among the current crop of circus players, is there anybody worthy of being called a presidentiable and President later on? Villar? Lacson? BF? Chiz? Loren? Noli? Erap? (Oh please, not again!) Mar Roxas?


Now, there's someone I can believe in. Mar stands out from the lot precisely because he has chosen not to join the ranks of the clowns. He is no trapo — does not talk, act nor think like one. His person inspires trust and his name is, thank goodness, corruption scandal-free. He is both intelligent and well-educated. And unlike others who possess the same, he uses these in the conduct of his public duties. Without pretending to look or speak like he's masa given his elitist background, he has actually done a lot to promote the interest of the much-used and -abused masses. Mar is qualified, most definitely. Perhaps more than qualified for an office that has lost its dignity and promise.

I'm wary of the Korina factor though. That is, supposing the Senator marries her of course. You see, to vote for one candidate is to vote for his/her spouse. Think Ferdie and Meldy. Think GMA and FG. Conjugal dictatorship. Conjugal thievery. Conjugal whatever.

Korina notwithstanding, I will go for Mar (with the silent hope that he dumps her in due time!). Yes, Mar Roxas. Over Villar. Over Loren. Over BF. Over anyone scrambling to be the next leader of this hopeless country.

The road to 2010 is in place. And in the mad race for the highest — not to mention most lucrative — position in the land, the presidentiables are bound to resort to crazy schemes and costly antics to win votes. The stakes are high as always.

But first they must make sure that elections are indeed going to happen....

All I Really Need to Know I Did Not Learn in Kindergarten

With due respect to Mr. Fulghum, of course. As far as I'm concerned, significant life lessons are those that I grasped, not from the early years before grade school, but from the second half of my 38 years in this world.

1. Do not confuse spirituality with religiosity. The former can stand without the latter.
2. Laugh. The louder the better.
3. Conventions are made to be broken away from.
4. It is of utmost importance to have a mind of your own.
   
5. Your present actions cannot forever be reactions to whatever wrongs you had to suffer in the past. Likewise, you have to stop seeing yourself as a victim.
6. Kindness is a virtue that should be shown to others as well as the self.
7. Walls are best built around homes, not around your person. If you know what I mean.
8. Anger is an ugly feeling. But people who make you angry are way uglier. Haha.
9. Never stay angry for long with people who matter. You are sure to regret it one day.
10. Forgive and forget is a fallacy. Otherwise, how will you ever learn?
11. There will always be people who are unhealthy for you. Let them go. And when they come knocking on your door, make sure it is locked.
12. Get out of your parents' sphere of influence as early as possible. It is a strain to live with someone who is still there.
13. Taking responsibility for anyone or anything is key to growing up.
14. When you're feeling tired, rest. Take a breather. Disappear.
15. Excess baggage is bound to pull you down. Unload.
16. Being jaded is a curse. Don't be.
    
17. Fighting for what you believe in may not always turn out all right.
18. Knowing when something or someone is not worth it is crucial at all points in your life.
19. There are times when it is easier to walk away than to stay.
20. The ego can be your worst enemy.
21. When your world is falling apart, a change in perspective is in order.
22. Self-respect is essential to survival.
23. Happiness is not a product of the mind. It is gone the moment you rationalize it.
24. Money is not everything. But never forget that man lives, first and foremost, on bread.
25. Time is the most precious commodity in the universe. And, yes, it cannot be bought, especially if you're not filthy rich.
26. Save your favorite books. They can be worthy companions in old age.
27. The future is best viewed with an open mind.
28. Girl bonding — and bonding with male friends — is necessary for sanity's sake. At least once every quarter, please.
29. The truth hurts most of the time. Be prepared not to tell people you care about if they are not ready for it.
30. Hasty decisions more often than not lead to difficult situations. Caution is not a bad thing, you know.
    
31. Expectations can ruin relationships. Keep them moderate.
32. Even the smartest of women can be fools for love. Just stay smart.
33. It is better to give than to receive. Who cares if it's the corniest line on earth?
34. The principle of non-attachment becomes harder to apply once you bring a child into the world.
35. Parenting is all about unconditional love. Period.
36. To have someone to care for, like a child born from you, is life's ultimate blessing.
37. Take every effort to be thankful. For everything.
38. There are more lessons to come as you gain years and wisdom. Be open.

Quite a long list actually. But then again what you know is only as good as what you practice. And this is where the real challenge lies.

Hitting 40

I've always thought 40 was old. I mean that was how I saw it when I was in my teens. But here I am now, light years away from teenage-hood and but a mere 2 years to 40.

No, 40 is not old. Not at all. While it seems people you come across with are getting younger and younger, one cannot discount the fact that there are still a lot of people a lot older than you are. At this age, one can still do many things. Launch a new career. Move to another country. Switch faiths. Fall in love again. A lot of better things to do. Other than obsessing about looking younger.

Yes, younger. Simply because today's women, poor us, are bombarded with a steady stream of propaganda that shuns aging and the wrinkles and marks that come alongside it. (Talk about emancipation of the female species!) "It's okay to be 40 as long as you look 30," goes a line from a TV ad. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it not okay to be 40 if you look it? Or is it not okay to be 40 per se?

What in the world is wrong with 40? Frankly, I don't see any reason to fuss about turning 40 or 50 or 60 for that matter. Aging is a natural process that comes hand in hand with living. Only the dead stop getting older, right?

Okay, if it's the looks department you're worried about — sure, you've got a point. But hey, one doesn't have to take this age-defying business a little too seriously. Your costly cream erases one line on your forehead, another one manifests itself. No overpriced high-tech concoction can ever stop the hands of time, no matter what.

And the good news, these brand campaigns are totally missing something. Like, it's not impossible to be beautiful even if you look your age. Lines, crow's feet, dark spots and all.

Because when you're a little older — and yes, wiser — beauty ceases to be skin deep. It starts to emanate from within. And please, I'm not trying to be anything here. It's just that, when you're 40, you're no longer a girl, obviously. So it's not about pretty-ness anymore. It's all about character. Substance.

So what if your face is unmarked by age if you haven't made a single mark in anybody's life? So what if you take good care of your skin if you haven't cared for anyone other than yourself?

Come on.

Lolo's Girl

They say parents show grandchildren the love that they are unable to demonstrate to their children. I think the reverse is true as well.

Tatay, my father, passed away when Indie was barely 16 months old. And up to now, she remembers him as a grown up never forgets a loved one long gone.



I don't know but as soon as Indie developed preferences for people and objects, Tatay became her instant favorite. She would grin from cheek to cheek whenever her lolo was around. Perhaps because he was a bit Dolphy-like, a comedic character who saw humor in everything. When Tatay played silly baby games with her, she would squeal and clap her hands in delight as if she was having the time of her young life. It came as no surprise then that the second word Indie spoke, next to mama, was tata.

When Indie had a McDonald's party for her first birthday, Tatay traveled all the way from Batangas even if he was just recovering from a chemotherapy cycle that almost killed him. (Upon watching the party video a few weeks ago, Indie said, "Look mommy, Tatay went to McDonald's. He gave me a gift then he went to heaven.")



Two months after, Tatay's cancer had gone up to his brain and there were days when his legs and arms would hurt so badly no one could touch them. Even so he would make a huge effort to clap his hands when Indie was there for the sole purpose of making her laugh. Just days before he breathed his last, I remember Indie crawling on his bed to kiss his hand and Tatay struggled, aching limbs and all, to raise his hand and bestow his last blessings on his youngest apo.

________

It pains me to write this but I know I have to. So that Indie may one day read this when she's a lot older and remember that there was once an old boy who loved her dearly. Her Tatay, her mother's father, whom she showered with all the affection her little heart could muster.

The Beatles Bug

My husband Nubs and I finally get to watch Across the Universe. Yes, I know we're almost a year late. But hey, this isn't about the movie.

Little Indie wakes up past 12 midnight as Across the Universe runs about halfway on our dvd player. She does not go back to sleep until closing credits.

The next morning, she's humming a familiar tune then... "Come together / right now / over me." A smile spreads across my face. I think she likes the movie just as much as we do. In the afternoon after her daily nap, father, mother and daughter — upon the daughter's request — sit in front of the TV for another viewing of the family's newest favorite film.



These days, Indie spends a great part of her waking hours listening to the movie soundtrack, 1 (a compilation of the Beatles' number 1 hits) and Bugs & Friends Sing the Beatles. There are four songs she tends to play again and again — Helter Skelter, It Won't Be Long, With A Little Help From My Friends, Come Together. I guess it's safe to assume that these are the ones she likes best. Soon she masters a few lines, especially choruses. And it occurs to me, it's not the movie she's really crazy about. It's the songs.

It's the Beatles.

Three-year old Indie may very well be the youngest Beatles fan. But then again, maybe not.

______

By the way, Indie's mommy is into Beatles music while her daddy is a hard core Beatles-John Lennon fanatic. And they both dig Across the Universe.