longing for the tropical

Four times now since November, a U of T email has been sent regarding the convening of the Mood Disorders Support Group. What perfect timing. I have come to a quick realization that winter time here can be quite bleak. The sun is barely out. The skies are mostly overcast. Hard not to put a dampen on one's enthusiasm. Contrary to the glamorized winter wonderland, there is also the mucky winter slush once the ice starts to melt. I wish I was a child again. I know I would have more than a hundred ideas to do with the snow. But I am not. So here continues my litany. Once indoors, the heaters blast and the skin gets parched to the point of ichthyosis. It was not so bad last year when the first snowfall came late December. Now, I am told that this IS the real Canadian winter. Sigh. I abhor that I have to wear layer upon layer to get warm which means more weight to carry around. And the snowboots...no flexibility in them at all.

Can you tell now that I don't like snow?

Yet another reason to go home. I miss tropical weather. Konting tiis pa.

the dirty

have lechon, will eat

Every year, for the town fiesta, my parents would invite people to celebrate with us. At the crack of dawn, Aling Rosa and her crew of cooks will start preparing the different dishes my mom had arranged for. Year in and year out, it seems we always have the same fare but my taste buds never got tired of them. Embutido, pansit luglog and palabok, rellenong bangus, lumpiang ubod, chicken pastel, kalderetang baka, menudo, fried chicken, and my favorite of all, lengua. Yum! Favorite meal enders are leche flan, maja blanca, sapin-sapin, bibingka galapong, pichi-pichi, palitaw, halayang ube and sherbet. Burp! Of course, the fiesta is never complete without the lechon. Those who come to our place know that Kuya Roland, would have also enslaved over the roasting process since daybreak. And the fruits of his labor will definitely not go unnoticed as it would lie majestically at the center table and Aling Sonia would masterfully slice and serve the choice cuts...and for the early birds, the coveted crispy balat! An authentic Filipino feast is definitely not vegetarian.

Recently a Pinay nurse hosted a post christening party of her firstborn. It was cause for great celebration and the not so ubiquitous (here in Canada at least) lechon was the crowning glory of her buffet table. For the Pinoys like me, it enticed our gustatory senses. It wasn't a strictly Filipino gathering however. There was a number of locals who were quite awe and even grief stricken over the current state of affairs of that resplendent (it was really enticingly shiny) animal that was now the focus of our carnivorous attention. "How was it killed?" "Poor pig." "Did it experience pain?" They had gathered around it, as if in prayer for the pig's passing. Momentarily, we were halted in our attack-eat mode. As they stepped away, we stealthily made our way and started to indulge. For the karaoke contest that followed, none of the locals really wanted to win. The prize? The roasted porcine's head.

Iba talaga ang Pinoy.

white and wet

I was asleep when I got roused because of noises...l thought small pebbles were being thrown at my window. Huh? Was somebody trying to wake me? That is some throwing arm...all the way to the 8th floor. Why not just call? These were the ramblings of my somnolent mind. I think I may just have been dreaming too. Anyways, I got up, took a peek outside. It was six in the morning. Oh yeah. Even though it was still dark, I could see the streaks of white falling from the sky.

As a little girl, I fantasized about winter wonderland. As I grew up, I had an occasion or two to live out the fantasy. Hurled the snowballs. Made Mr. Snowman. Brrrrr. Boy, it was cold though and worse, the whole whiteness of it all melted. What was left was slush (reminded me of the 7-11 slushies). There was also layers upon layers upon layers of clothing that my mother wrapped me in. Agility was not possible. Early on, I realized I did not like snow and this holds true until today.

Sigh. Snow. This is early.

Last year, the first snowfall came on December 30. I remember it well because it was my first post call day after having come back from the P.I. just on December 28.

I feel the chill in my bones.

re-born

Mom's started on her treatment. Technically, she is not on chemotherapy. She is on Rituxan and thalidomide. The horrid side effects she had to endure four years ago is well buried in the past and never again. So we thought. It is deja vu.

Prior to her Rituxan infusion, she was pre-medicated with Benadryl and dexamethasone. We are told that it can elicit quite an allergic reaction. With mom though, it was more like anaphylaxis. Hyperthermia, hives, hypotension and worse of all, laryngospasm. Multiple doses of hydrocortisone later, she seems recovered but near passed out. When she came to, she insists on going home to her bed. No sense in arguing. She is back to hospital a day later. Palpitations. Her tachyarrhythmia has recurred. Thankfully, it medically converted. This all happened the day before my dad's birthday party. And so of course, mom being mom had a deadline for her cardiologist. "I have to be out tonight because it is THE birthday party tomorrow."

At the party, Mom was in her prime, resplendent in her pina gown, arm in arm with Dad as they went around the tables. She even took to the dance floor a number of times. Ate says it was as if Mom had been re-born. I must admit, I had raised my objections to the high heavens when I found out Mom insisted on going. But now, I am happy that Mom and Dad had a ball. Mom always said, "In everything you do, do it well. Do it with passion. You may very well just have one chance to do it in your lifetime." She is her own words.

unconditional

I have just come off call. Though my body yearns for my bed, my mind is still wide awake.

I had just gone through a difficult situation. A week old baby born at 24 weeks who from birth hit one rough spot to the next. As I came on call, I knew this rough spot will be erased but the baby along with it.

Scenario: gram negative sepsis in hypoxic respiratory failure, in DIC, pressor resistant hypotension (already on dopamine, dobutamine, epi drip and hydrocortisone) and in renal failure to boot. The parents were staunchly religious and believed in miracles. I again came face to face with the shadows that haunt me. I do not want to be that person who extinguishes the flame of hope but the task has befallen onto me.

I do the talk.

He is dying. If he survives, it will be no miracle. Given the fact that he is extremely preterm and the tenacity of this infection and its sequela, he is almost 100% likely to be severely neurodevelopmentally impaired. Will it be a miracle when there would be no living?

Options: continue, withdraw, DNR

Mom breaks down. Father silently wipes his tears. What do we do?

What should I say? Medically, I recommend withdrawal. All indicators are pointing towards a hopeless cause despite the best efforts.

What did I say? I believe you have to look into your heart and trust your instincts. As parents, you will only always want what is best for your child. Not for you. For your child. Whatever decision you make, I know it is because you love your child.

I feel spent.

The baby passed quietly this early morning.

They let go.

crash

This past week has been a roller coaster ride of sorts.

Bummer...my hard drive crashed. I have been without my laptop for about a week now. Basically this meant that I have not been spending quality online time with my kids and hubby. Sigh. I am back to using phone cards. I can't believe how long it is taking for my new hard drive to get delivered.

I have also learned a valuable lesson. I must regularly make back up files. As we say in our vernacular, "Nasa huli ang pagsisisi." What exactly did I lose....I lost copies of journal articles I have religiously searched for over the past year. I lost presentations which I have slaved over in preparing (literally burning the midnight oil to the wee hours of the morning). I lost my OPM. But what really hurts is that I lost all the pictures.

What I am thankful for is that whatever I lost, I can build up again.

Now, I have to start....

strong

I was happy to hand over the patients in the Unit to the next team on call at the end of my overnight shift. I was narrating events that transpired when the in-house fellow’s phone clipped to my pants suddenly rang. It was Pat. My sister had called from the Philippines and left a message for me to call back the soonest I can. I felt my heart drop and could not talk. I thought of the worse. I was visibly shaken but then regained my composure and quickly finished my hand over.

My thoughts immediately went to my mother. She was diagnosed with Non Hodgkins Lymphoma in 2003 and went into remission after a tumultuous course of chemotherapy which led to doxuribicin induced cardiomyopathy and heart failure, DVT, PTE and post steroid diabetes. Through it all she remained crusty as ever.

Four years ago, in the early morning that we woke her up and my sister and I tearfully told her about the biopsy result, her reply was,”Sabi na nga ba eh. O, hwag nyo ako luhaan at buhay pa ako. Nagawa ko na rin lahat ng gusto ko. Handa naman ako kahit kailan. Kayo ang iintindihin ko. Teka, may duktor na ba ako na pupuntahan? Tena at magpahain na kayo ng agahan.”

I finally heard my ate’s familiar voice. Mom had an MRI last week, part of her bi-annual screening. She is still quite asymptomatic but from the imaging, her abdominal nodes have enlarged and one is severely compressing on her IVC. Mom swore off chemotherapy after her experience. She has relented though to treatment with Rituxan. I spoke to her on the phone.

“Ma, ok ka lang?”
“Oo, ok ako. Hwag mo akong intindihin. Intindihin mo sarili mo dyan.” Spoken like a true mother.
“Gusto mo ako umuwi?”
“Bakit uuwi? Tapusin mo yung pinunta mo dyan. Dito pa rin ako pagbalik mo.”
“Talaga ha. Ma....”
“O, ano yun?”
“Ma, I love you.”
“Ano kamo?” My mom has never been the mushy type but her actions betray her.
“Sabi ko, Ma, I love you.”
“O sige…same to you.” Patawa talaga nanay ko but I heard her voice break.

I felt reassured though we are miles apart, I felt my mother’s strength. I can only aspire to be the same pillar of strength towards my own family.

the day Lomi was born

Lomi turned 11 years old yesterday, October 29th.
Good God, has it been that long?

I was a medical intern, tired after a 24 hour call. It was October 28th. Instead of getting some zzzz's, I freshened up and went to a despedida for my brother in law at Dad's Mega Mall. After the extremely satisfying buffet, I had felt some tightening of my huge belly. Upon reaching home, I felt this heaviness and went straight to the bathroom. Gush! Uh-oh, my water broke...my heart skipped a beat as I had a fleeting panic that my baby had come out with it. He didn't. Whew! I stepped out and Jun was waiting. He had already been uneasy and even more so upon seeing that I was quite drenched. His eyes met mine and I saw his panic. "It's okay. We just have to go to the hospital. Let me change first."

We drove to Taft Avenue en route to Manila Doctors Hospital.
"Crap. My admitting orders...it's in my Harrison's at the call room."

My blockmates Kendrick, Jun S and Noela went on a frantic search for it. I think they almost turned the shelves over and still couldn't find it. Whatever. They blew kisses as Jun drove me away from PGH.

We arrived at the hospital after midnight. It was October 29th. After enduring labor for 19 hours, Lomi was ready to come. So I was told.

Push. Push. Push.

Lomi had other plans. I guess he was all excited and had a run of fetal tachycardia.

I had my c-section at 1930H. Lomi was born at 1948H.

Feeling woozy out of tiredness and the morphine, I heard him cry. I have never felt happier. When he was brought to me for bonding, I found myself tearing up over this little miracle.

Eleven years have passed. Mama na siya. Is this the same baby that Jun was eagerly cradling in his arms and dancing to sleep? He wouldn't be able to do that now. He certainly has grown. But he certainly is still my baby.

sleep

I am having the pleasure of a lull. It is 0437H and have just attended the delivery of a 36 week IUGR infant. I am winding down the hours to the end of my 24 hour shift at 9am. No sleep yet for me. Sleep was once an elusive commodity when I came here. Partly because of the busy nights on call but also because it took some getting used to being alone in bed. With November just around the corner and winter at its heels, I can definitely use the feeling of a warm body to snuggle with…my kids, my hubby. But I make do with down filled pillows and a personal heater at my feet.

I have a double bed but I only sleep on the left side. A friend of mine had told me to relish having the whole space to myself and lie right smack in the middle. Thoughts of the Vitruvian Man go into my head. I tried to do that the other night but found myself going back to my preferred fetal position, again on the left side of the bed. I wondered why that is.

And so I came across an article about sleep positions. It really is very interesting. Apparently, I am in the majority. 41% of 1000 people prefer the fetal position in sleep. People who are tough on the outside and yet soft on the inside (sounds like a commercial). I have no clue what the science is behind these interpretations, but if you are curious, check this site out http://www.flatseats.com/General/positions.htm

Didn’t I say I had a lull…it’s over now. A kid just self-extubated.

I look forward to sleeping later.

lush

I have just seen the movie The Legend of Bagger Vance. One scene keeps replaying in my mind. Junuh, portrayed by Matt Damon, was engaged in a drinking spree. He told a 10 year old Hardy the merits of being a drunk. In essence, Junuh admits that with each gulp, thousands of brain cells die among the billions. But.... The first cells that die are the sad cells so that in drink, one finds happiness. The next to go are the quiet cells, so naturally, one can only get loud and louder. Then goes the stupid cells, so that even in loud drunkeness, there are remarkable utterances of lucid wisdom. It is not because of these perks that men become drunks. Among the last brain cells to die are the memory cells. Now Junuh says, these ones are tough and just can't seem to let go, continuing to torment and drive one to drown in intoxication.

Hmmmm....

one

I had a free weekend. I must say that on Friday, I was feeling pretty upbeat. I was rejoicing with the thought that I would be away from the stress and unending demands of my work.

I had a free weekend. I am glad that it is about to be over. Much as I love having days off, I must admit that I dread the monotony of my life outside the hospital. After going through the mundane tasks such as clean up, laundry, grocery shopping, I find myself feeling empty left with having all this glorious free time by my lonesome. My mind wanders to half-way round the world, thinking of my time lost for Jun and the kids.

I roam the streets of downtown Toronto, begging for exhaustion so that I can sleep easily and soundly tonight.

Tomorrow, I shall go back to work. Inevitably, there will be someone who says,"I can't believe how you are managing being far away from your family." or "But you always seem to be happy, with a big smile on your face."

In truth, I smile and laugh to cope with my day-to-day personal and professional crises. Pilipino ata ako. If I cried each time, I probably would have shed enough tears to help fill the oceans that span the distance between my family and I.

undoing the fear

The news of the Glorietta bombing has shook me to the core, just as if I had been there myself and felt the reverberations of the blast. I am gripped with horror at the sight of the video footages from home. My being is enveloped with sadness for those who have lost their loved ones through this senseless act of violence.

Damn. I have let the fear in me. I can only think of my own family's safety who frequent the malls. Or will it be just the malls? These terrorists can strike anywhere. Will it stop?

Flashback to two days ago.

"Donna, is your plan really to go back? How do we make you change your mind?", queried my staff as we were walking together to the MRI.

I am flattered and say my thanks. I do want to go back home and perhaps even make a small difference.

She continued, "But never say never. Just keep your options open." I did not say it out loud, but only widespread political instability or mayhem will change my mind. Anything at all that will threaten my family's future.

And now this.

I have to stomp out the fear within me. Those terrorists will have just achieved what they wanted. I am angered by the complete disregard for human life. I am angered by their cowardice.

I am so angered...naiiyak ako.

lunch out

On the Monday after my long weekend call, though I was physically tired, my mind was still actively thinking about the 24 hours that was. I knew that I needed to sleep but could not. I took a quick shower and headed towards the Eaton Center.

I am still truly Pinoy, I am an irrepressible mall rat at heart.

It was soon 11am.

My stomach growled. I knew where I wanted to go. Jimmy the Greek. The guy at the counter was a sweet talking Eastern European who quipped, "Mahal, what would you like today?" I greedily ordered my usual. It is a delectable roast chicken dinner with a generous serving of greens, rice and potatoes. At first glance, it looks unappealingly slathered with sour cream and hot sauce. But looks can be deceiving. My taste buds attest to the truth. The meal was over in 10 minutes. Gosh, I was ravenous.


photo swiped from anime-luver 7895

who's boss

Jun recently brought Nikki to the grocery store. Just the two of them.
She would delight with sitting in the carriage part of the cart as she would point or grab at the items she wanted.
He would cautiously put back those he thought were a bit too much or not really needed.

It was a different story last Tuesday.

Nikki insisted on pushing the cart. Her arms shot straight upwards to reach the bar. Jun thought it cute and got a kiddie size for her.

"No! Ayaw ko!" Uh-oh.

"Nikki is small, so you will have to push the small cart."

"No!", even louder.

Now Jun is not one to quarrel and more so, to create a scene. Naturally, he gave in.

My poor husband, he struggled trying to help steer the cart. But Nikki would not budge an inch.

My poor daughter, we will all be ruined if you get to have your way each time.

a day in the hospital

In all the afternoon, I had gone with my staff person about the hospital.

First stop was the MRI. A patient who is a little over 36 hours old has a persistent metabolic acidosis. On the MRS, a huge lactate peak was noted. The neuroradiologist hinted at a mitochondrial metabolic disease.

Second stop was at the Department of Laboratories and Pathology. A baby had died two days back and the parents had consented to a post. It was hard to focus on the autopsy as a pathology tech was using an automated bone saw in cutting up a leg (presumably post amputation for an extensive osteosarcoma). In that moment, I wished I was vegeterian. Gulp. I don't get queasy easily but I was glad to step out and the smell of formalin wafted in the air behind me as I walked away.

Just as we were to walk out the main laboratory exits, there was a small display of equipment used there. One particular thing caught my eye.

Underneath a simple looking device was a sign which read:

This machine is used for sperm analysis. This equipment was developed based on technology from heat seeking ballistic missiles.

Hah. How appropriate. And what perfect timing.

After a long day, I needed some comic relief.

dilemma

I came home with my mind heavy with a moral dilemma. I am physically, mentally and emotionally drained.
As I enter the door, I make for my laptop and turned it on.
My sister-in-law sent me an email with a youtube link.
She had filmed Nikki as they were looking at some of my pictures with Maxine on her recent visit with me.
Once my image turned up in any of the photos, Nikki would point at the screen and exclaim,"Mama there!" She had a big smile on her face.
That was it.
It tipped me over.
I started to cry.
Ano nga ba ginagawa ko sa pag-aatupag sa mga bata dito? Ano nga ba'ng buhay ang magkakaron sila? Ito ba ang gusto kong gawin pag-uwi ko? Samantalang pano naman ang mga anak ko?..nauulila sa nanay nila...
I so want to go home. Now.
Pat says I am just crazy tired. Maybe...or not.
Please Lord, enlighten me. Amen.

playing God

Just today, I have come home after a long 24 hour call (more like 30 hours). A late preterm baby was born with a complex congenital heart defect, hypoplastic lungs, cystic kidneys and other abnormal physical features. To add further insult, it was complicated by meconium aspiration.

Advances in prenatal diagnosis made it possible to detect these problems beforehand. Consultation after consultation done with physicians seemed to have indicated that there is a medical and or surgical answer to this baby's anticipated problems. After all, the chromosomal study done antenatally was 46 XY. I think that is about the only normal thing going for this baby.

So what happened? We intubate, put the baby on high frequency jet ventilation, give surfactant, start nitric oxide. Maximal support.

Why? Because we can.

The result of our efforts? A baby with a strong beating heart.

She is alive. But will she have a life?

I have been here in Canada over a year now. It never ceases to amaze me that we will just about resuscitate any baby with whatever affliction. Medicine has evolved in such a way that there is always some form of treatment available for conditions which may have been deemed incompatible with life a couple of years ago. Being humans, we have long sought to be masters of our own mortality, or perhaps, immortality. But to what extent should we intervene in the natural selective processes of life?

Honestly, while I was standing by the warmer working on the baby, I found myself suddenly stop and think, "Is this what I want to do? How far do I want to participate in this exercise?" On the other hand, should I pass judgement on this being? Who am I to say that she wouldn't be productive and happy in the future should she survive? Should the word miracle be a part of medical syntax?

The resus nurse assisting me gave me a nudge. "Are you okay there?"

I think not.

la leche

It is not a known fact around the unit that I work in that I have kids, let alone that I have three.

This afternoon, I was encouraging a mother, who had just delivered 3 days back, about her breastmilk. She was getting frustrated with all the pumping she does and the little volume she produces for her preterm baby. I had just remarked that I knew how difficult it is in the first couple of days because I had breastfed my kids too.

She stared at me in disbelief.

"You have kids?! You are such a little thing." And she was looking me over intently.

"Yes, I do. I have three in fact. And I breastfed each one of them."

She looked floored. "But you're still so young. You can't be a day over 25."

"Oh, you just made my day." I was beaming. "I am over 25. No doubt about that. You know what the secret is? I started out when I was 12."

And we both started laughing. The mother at the next bedside was looking at the two of us.

Mom number 1 says: "Can you believe it? She has three kids. If you can have three kids, then I sure can have breastmilk for my baby here."

I rest my case.

-----------

Just so that we are still in the topic of breastmilk, I remember when I first started my fellowship in Canada in 2006.

It was July 4 when it was my first time ever to participate in rounds in North America. Each nurse at bedside gave us the scoop on how the baby did from the night before and currently. In doing so, there were many unfamiliar abbreviations and acronyms spilling from her mouth. Add to that the spiel from the respiratory therapist, the pharmacist and the dietician. I was quite disoriented...maybe it was also the jetlag.

Anyhow, I caught on eventually. Frequently, there would be report on rounds that EBM is not available. EBM is expressed breastmilk.

When I left the Philippines, I was still breastfeeding Nikki who was barely 14 months old at the time. I did not have the heart to completely disengage her especially at night. However, I was still getting heavy with breastmilk in my first few weeks in Toronto. Even heavier was the thought that Nikki was herself crying to sleep those nights. Sigh..

Many times I was tempted to say, "EBM? I have lots of EBM."

Now if only the concept of a milk bank wasn't so foreign here in the first world where they are abreast (no pun intended) of how precious breastmilk is, I wouldn't have wasted so much.

Maxine sends an e-mail

dear mama,

Kamusta ka? I had a good time in my exams. I had no low scores. All in all my score when i add it together is 387. i only have 7 mistakes in one subject and the lowest is 18 mistakes. my classmate alexis salazar made 1 pair of earrings for me.

si Kuya umiiyak kanina kasi gusto niyang kumain. si nikki mas lalong kumukulit. si papa nagpapatawa parati. Totoo ba na sinabi ni daddy na bibilhan mo kami ng bagong dvd? tapos shoes and things? nagpunta ako sa bulacan tapos pumunta kami sa Walter Mart kasama si elio at marco. Nagpunta kami sa church at nagkita ni patrick tapos si papa pumunta kanina sa SM at maraming binili. Bumili siya ng isang set ng table na may 3 chairs na maliliit. Si papa binili niya si nikki ng 3 bagong shoes at binilhan niya ako ng bagong wallet at lalagyan ng tubig. May binigay din sya kay kuya pero di ko alam.

Thank you Mama.

Ingat ka diyan.
I Love You Too.
I miss you too.


Love,

Maxine

it isn't just about the turkey

It is Thankgiving weekend here in Canada and I was invited over to Kuya Masselle's and Ate Lita's. It is a time to reflect on the years past, to be grateful for the blessings received and to look onward towards the future. More importantly though, it is also to relish the present, to re-connect with family and friends, and make new ties. No wonder Pinoys living abroad have taken to this tradition. It certainly goes well with two of our great past times, kwentuhan and kainan. I swear I must have eaten food enough to last me a week and then, may pabaon pa!! Thank you po!


tsibugan na!

Kuya Masselle's annual "craved for" turkey


crispy, yummy turon


pose muna tayo

the turkey after -- did I not say it is craved for?!

through the screen

Just now, I have logged off from YM. Being on-line with my family is a daily ritual. However bizarre it seems, my kids have adjusted and wholly accepted seeing me through the computer screen. Maxine would chat with me about school, her friends, I would hear her rave about Pokemon games on DS and her fave mag, Total Girl. Lomi is tinkering with his new toy car, taking it apart and then putting it together. Nikki, who at most times used to ignore me, to my delight now talks her jibberish at me looking straight at the camera. I watch as they all sit together, heads bowed down, as they draw (well, Maxine does, Nikki scribbles and Lomi writes his favorite words). I see Nikki finishes ahead and looks disinterestedly at her sibs' creations. She makes for the bed and says, "Mama! Look!" and she jumps up and down, landing on her bum and laughing out loud. She then pulls, as she screams, on her big sister and brother and orders them to jump as they all held hands. Such a little tyrant! They land a big merry mess on the bed. Up and down, over and over. The laughter drowns Nanay Linda's worries about the bed holding up to such a "beating". But who cares. A bed is just a bed. Easy enough to buy one. These memories are priceless.

losing the future

Dying. It is a subject not many will be comfortable talking about. This afternoon, I had attended a discussion centered on withdrawal of care. Back home, I think this would be similar with the concept of HPR or "home per request".

My first experience dealt with a 24+ week gestation infant who required a full blown resuscitation which I had supervised upon her birth. A day three head ultrasound had revealed bilateral intraventricular hemorrhages with parenchymal extension. We had a family meeting which I thought was just to disclose these findings to the parents and the implications for the future should she survive this acute phase in her care.

It was more than that. "It is our professional recommendation to withdraw life sustaining technology."

The silence that followed was deafening. The mother began to uncontrollably sob. Her husband's tears welled up in his eyes. Sound medical evidence corroborates this advice. But still, I had this unbearable weight on my chest that just threatened to suffocate me. Their pain was so palpable that I hope never to fathom what they went through.

They say when a parent dies, we lose our past. When we lose a partner, we lose our present. But when we lose our child, we lose our future.

Since then, I have been numbed. I have been involved not infrequently in such discussions. To cope, I intellectualize things. It really is for the best. I have learned to detach my emotions....at that moment. Once I get out, I feel so spent. I so want to hug my own kids and count myself blessed that I have them.

The death of a child will always be an unwelcome reality, more so a newborn infant. I marvel at the indomitable love parents have, how else can any feeling human being come to terms with saying "hello" and "goodbye" in the same breath?

let there be light

This morning, I was blow drying my hair in my room and Pat was doing some ironing in hers when something very unexpected happened. I couldn't believe it when it did.

My hair was still wet and the dryer just stopped. I thought I had pulled the plug accidentally but it was still snug into the wall outlet. I heard Pat exclaim, "Brownout?" Huh?

It turned out, a fuse blew and our bedrooms and more importantly, bathroom, had lost power. I sent an email to our super to attend to it and promptly got a reply that the building maintenance people would see to it within the day.

I came home rather late from work. As they say, when it rains, it pours. I had to attend to a 25 week triplet birth and a near term hydrops baby. It was pushing 7 pm when I saw the outside world again after being cooped up in the unit. It was already getting dark. My thoughts were only on a long, soothing hot shower to ease my aches and pains. I dropped my stuff onto the sofa. Going in to the bathroom, I flipped the switch and still no lights! Crap!

Imagine my dismay.

However, this did not dim my plan of a leisurely evening. I will not be deterred. I let the water run in the bath. I lit my tea lights. Lovely. It was better than what I had imagined. Now this is the life.

If only candle power could make my hair dryer come to life too.

the view from my window

When I can afford the luxury of lounging in my bed, I find myself looking at my window. There, I see Maxine's "sun-catchers". These are her glass clingy crayola art creations which she toiled over as I was away on call at the hospital. She would hang them one by one for me to discover as I awoke from my post call slumber.


Maxine literally brings the sunshine in to my room with her sun-catchers.


A unicorn, flowers and a present for me!


My private ocean even in the winter.

I've got mail

I came home exhausted from work yesterday evening. Out of 32 babies in the unit, there are six who are really sick. I have three of them. So that is how my day went. I felt relieved handing over to the night team at the end of the day. I dashed for a quick exit. As I entered the main door of my apartment building, I glanced at my postal box. Junk mail. Don't you just hate it when it gets overflowing with flyers and promotional brochures. They are the reason why I make regular trips to the recycling bin. I was about to ignore them and just leave them there. Hopefully the guy who stuffs them in would see how full it is and will not put in any more.

But what the heck. There may be a good buy somewhere. My credit card balance is down to zero now. Woo-hoo!

I took them all out of the box. Once through my apartment door, I threw the thick wad of mail on the table. A fat blue envelope caught my eye. It was the kind that comes with a stationery set. I picked it up and instantly recognized Jun's handwriting. At the upper left corner it read: From Papa, Lomi, Maxine and Nikki. At the middle of the envelope: To Mama Donna. I carefully opened it and out came pictures, letters, drawings and scribbles. My eyes poured into them. These are certainly worth more than anything I could have wanted but at no extra cost.

the Talk part 1

Ate Fe dropped in at the house last week. During her visit, she pointed out to Jun that Maxine, our 9 year old, is growing up quickly to becoming a fine looking young lady. "Dinatnan na ba sya?" Truthfully, my poor husband did not see this coming at all in the near future. In other words, he was caught off guard and in near panic. What if? How does he explain this feminine phenomenon to her? Of course, the hotline led straight back to me.

"Mama, I think it is time." Time for what?
"The talk." You do it papa.
"Me? What do I know?...I know how to count the cycles and you know..." Men.

I wished I was there. I felt this needed to be done face to face so that I could assuage her fears. Sigh.

Hopefully, this can wait until December. Please Lord.

I had a moment..

The phone rang to life. I knew exactly who it was. On the other end, I could hear incessant crying. My heart broke at the sound of it. Jun was saying that Nikki awoke suddenly and was looking for her Ate Maxine who sleeps beside her. Maxine had already gone early this morning to school. They were trying to pacify her but to no avail. "Ate Mac...ate mac..." They had me on speakerphone. I spoke her name coaxingly. I then began to sing one of her favorite Barney songs. Her bawling quieted down to whimpers. I closed my eyes. I had a mental picture of having her in my embrace and lulling her back to sleep, kissing her brow gently. Inhaling deeply, I relish her sweet baby scent. Then I realized that I heard no more cries. I just had a moment there. Tears stung my eyes. Even though I am thousands of miles away, my heart is warmed that my Nikki knows and feels who I am.

new ties

In a rare occurence, I found myself faced with a free weekend. I guess I have always fallen back on work to keep myself focused. Now, I am totally disoriented. There is a ton of things that I need to get started with but I am like a car whose engine is just sputtering to life, each time the key is turned to crank it up. Pretty much, I forced myself to be productive. Did my laundry, baked brownies. By the afternoon, I had a fixed goal at least...to get myself ready. Lisa, a respiratory therapist Pat and I work with at the unit, invited us over to her place for dinner. Honestly, I had thought of getting out of it as I felt pangs of homesickness. When we knocked on her door, I was unsure. However, it did not take long for me to realize that I am glad we went. Her hubby Mike kept the laughs coming. Sarah, their charming four year old, just absolutely melted my heart. I sensed a filling of the void within me. It just seemed right in this home. The atmosphere was so cozy it felt like we have been friends for a long time. It was a lovely evening highlighted by good food and conversation. A refreshing way of forging new ties.

Go veggie?!

Thursday night was food night. A bunch of us trooped out to Baldwin Street, an area reminiscent of Malate, and chose to eat at Vegetarian Haven. Going in, I had this ridiculous vision of a giraffe munching and regurgitating on leaves. No matter. I was hungry after a full day’s work and getting by on a slice of cake. I was quite resigned to start with carrot sticks and hopefully, a tasty dip. Perusing the menu, there was quite a selection of food. Was I having visual hallucinations? I read the words steak, chicken, ham, salmon, prawn, turkey and burgers. No I wasn’t. A friend was verbalizing her surprise too. On closer inspection, all those words were in quotation marks. Aahhh….I wondered how these simulated meats would measure up to my carnivorous palate. We gamely ordered fried King “Prawn” for starters and when it was brought out, it was met with “oohh’s and ahhh’s”. Visually no doubt it was prawn, complete with the tail. The taste? Definitely prawn. The only thing off was the texture but still quite a delight to eat. Appetizers consumed, I carefully chose my entrée. I wondered about having “steak” which actually is made of seitan, the vegetarian wheat meat. Or perhaps tempeh, a type of cultured soybean. My eyes spotted the Portobello Mushroom Medley Burger (I love fungi!) but I decided for the “Seafood” with purple rice in clay pot. “Seafood” referred to more “prawns” and “salmon”. The meal promised to have bits of “ham” too and of course, tofu and mushrooms. I excitedly opened up the lid of the stylized and glazed palayok set before me and took a whiff of the mouthwatering aroma that excited my senses. Had this been a blindfolded taste test, I would have been fooled. I rose from the dinner table satiated. Vegetarian food is certainly a revelation. Did this make me a convert? I wasn’t that fooled. I am having good old crispy bacon in the morning….

my gangsta tubero

This morning, I realized as I peered into the mirror hanging above the bathroom sink that the water that ran from the faucet as I washed my face and brushed my teeth remained a stagnant pool. Uh-oh. Undeniably a clogged drain. From the days before, I had noticed the water to go down the drain slowly, now it was stubbornly still. I wish Mang Romy, my dad’s jack of all trades go- to-guy, was here. Wishful thinking. I guess I will have to deal with it. Sigh, the perils of independent living. I looked underneath. I tried to loosen the fittings around the elbow pipe but it wouldn’t budge. I needed a wrench. Ok, stop there. This is definitely not my area of expertise. Visions of a flooded bathroom floor is not pleasant at all. Call a plumber? Hmmm…there has to be a cheap, quick fixer upper alternative to this. That’s it! Liquid sosa (my hubby’s favorite instant “tubero”)…there has to be a north American equivalent. I went over to the nearby convenience store and scoured the shelves for something similar to sosa. What the heck is sosa in the first place? Anyway, I found the Liquid-Plumr Pro. It claimed to clear the toughest clogs. The Plumr name and spelling was so gangsta. Sounds exactly what I needed. I came home and couldn’t wait to conquer the murky depths that lay beneath the polished porcelain exterior of the sink. As per instructions, I poured half the Pro into the drain and waited for half an hour. I came back to let hot water run through it and voila!..the water flowed seamlessly. I heard the happy burp of the drain as the last of the water trickled into its mouth. Another household catastrophe averted!

wanda and the alligator king

Picking up from my last blog entry, Julie recently passed an email she received from a friend of hers about his recollection of childhood delights. Or rather, non-recollection....that is, a light bulb would go "ting!" in my head when I hear or read about an old tv show or some other fad but more than half the time, I wouldn't remember the full details. I just know that I know but I don't remember what I know. Huh? Anyway, two things for sure that I do remember clearly are wacky Wanda the Witch and the affable Alligator King. Care to take this trip down memory lane? Ah, the good old days....

a superfriend

I awoke feeling disoriented. The phone was ringing. The voice on the other end was saying, “Hello…this is TD Canada Trust. Is Patroyo Matio there?” Oh, cripes. They again murdered my roomie…her name that is. I said that she was still at work and we hung up. I felt like I wanted to go back to sleep but couldn’t. My mind was awake but felt heavy. I obviously am post call. It is 3 in the afternoon. Okay, mental checklist. I am still in my scrubs. Take a nice shower. Check. Eat breakfast? Or lunch? Or just wait for dinner time? Hmm….maybe just the latter. Next, eat out or cook-in? Choices, choices. In the meantime, I made a fat, gooey peanut butter sandwich. I turned the TV on, flipping through the channels, not really caring but just wanting to fill the empty apartment with the sounds of another human being. A familiar tune caught my ear. OMG! It was Lynda Carter all garbed up in the red and blue with the golden stars fighting off the “Nazis”. Wonder Woman! My eyes were glued. I have this memory of “fighting” my older brother, fending off his karate chops with my “feminine” bracelets. Funny that she does all her fight scenes and not a hair falls out of place. Great Hera! And to cap off the nostalgia this afternoon, the show was back to back with David Banner and the Incredible Hulk. I heard those immortal lines…. “Don’t make me angry Mr. McGee. You wouldn’t like me when I am angry.” Lou Ferrigno rocks! Now, I will be keeping an eye out for “The Six Million Dollar Man” and “Bionic Woman”.

smokey mountain

Just today, I had done two lumbar punctures, inserted umbilical lines and a chest tube. Not that I am keeping count of what skills I am acquiring / honing. What I am running count of is the ridiculous amount of wasted medical supplies I encounter day in and out. Take for example, in performing the LP's, a whole LP set is opened up each time. A set includes a manometer, stopcock, gauge 22 spinal needle, tubes etc. I really only get to use the sterile disposable drapes and the tubes for the specimen. The needle I use is the good and old reliable gauge 25 syringe needle. So basically, everything else...manometer included is waste. Just two days ago, I had ordered surfactant for a 500 gram infant just born and would only require 2.5 cc's. After the 2.5 cc was drawn, the rest of the 7.5 cc was ditched!!! OMG! And unopened angiocaths, tapes that fall to the floor would not be picked up...it will go straight to the trash. I find myself wanting to collect all these and send them back home...sort of like being a scavenger in a smokey mountain pile of medical waste. I can hear strains of "Paraiso" in my head...

babies

As I write this, I have just received word that my friend Marj has given birth to her panganay. Babies are such a marvel. They are such tiny beings and yet one unabated crying can make a roomful of adults frantic with worry. Come to think of it, when a baby is born, he/she is measured by the centimeters and grams and yet he/she will be the biggest part in the life of any parent. Every time will be a first time, a wondrous moment.
My kids are all growing up now. Certainly past the infant stage but each one remains our baby.
Congrats Marj and Carlos. Time to start a new chapter.

-ber is here!

The summer is nearing its end. I can tell. The days are getting shorter. It used to be that at 9 pm, the sun was still up but now at 7pm, it is bidding goodnight. The days are still warm but in the morning and evening, there is a mild chill with the breeze. Most of all, August is almost over and the -ber months will be ushered in with the advent of September. I can just imagine the flurry of activity that must be going on in the Philippines by now. For sure the familiar strains of "Pasko na Sinta ko" will be (if not already) re-entering the airwaves along with other all time Filipino favorite yuletide songs. Inevitably, the TV stations will be counting down the days to christmas. The colorful, dancing lights of the intricate "parols" will provide a visual feast and displayed for sale along the road in Greenhills and other parts of Manila. Children, accompanied by self-made acoustic instruments usually made of cans and bottlecaps, will be caroling motorists and pedestrians alike with the perpetual "Ang Pasko ay sumapit..", scrambling for coins after their heartfelt rendition. I know that outside Lourdes Church in Quezon City, sidewalk vendors will be selling bibingka and puto bumbong. Best of all, the malls will be a-buzz entering in to the endless season of sales as people gear up with gifts to give friends and loved ones. The air would be thick with anticipation and excitement.

Transport back to Toronto. The other day, I was talking to a nurse at the unit and I couldn't hide my enthusiasm for September. I tried to explain the concept of the -ber months. She could not get it. To her, it meant cold weather only to get colder. She thought me weird. I shouldn't have bothered. Only a Pinoy would understand.

Y'all

While I was staying in Georgia, I had the unique experience of eating breakfast in a Mom and Pop style diner. We seated ourselves in one of the banquettes. At a glance, the place could accomodate probably about twenty people. Freshly baked apple pie was on the counter exciting my senses. A jukebox in the corner was playing "Time of my life" by the Everly brothers and the employees were singing and laughing with it. The food servers (average age in their mid-40's I think) chewed gum, sported bright red lipstick and tucked pencils behind their ears. The place has its share of regular customers who ordered for their "usual". The southern drawl was thick and pleasant to hear albeit confusing to decipher at times. I ordered what was touted in the menu to be "the most perfect waffle in the world" with a side of two slices of bacon and hash browns. Our order taker, Lynette, yelled over the counter to Carl, the gnarly pot bellied cook sporting a greased up apron and a 5 o'clock shadow. I am mesmerized, feeling transported back in time. My food arrived in true southern style cooking, greased to the nines. What the heck, so what if I was constantly wiping my lips of grease. As we ate, Lynette chatted us up as if we were long lost neighbors. When we rose to leave, "Y'all come back and see us soon, y'hear. Y'all have a nice day." Nevermind the weather, southern hospitality is warm and homey.

talangka

I am now back in Toronto after a 9 day stay in Atlanta. The heat was unbelievable and felt like my skin would get toasted each time I went outdoors. The temperatures were teetering at the 100’s F. Luckily, I was almost always indoors in the cool airconditioned comfort of the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Buckhead where my review course was held. To my pleasant surprise, a good handful of the attendees are Filipino. And of course, we all flocked together. The questions I got asked the most were “San ka sa tin?” (Answer: Bulacan); “San ka nagpa-practice ngayon?” (Answer: doing my fellowship now in Toronto); “Ah, so sa Canada ka na?” (Answer: hindi po, babalik ako sa Pilipinas). The last answer would draw the most reaction – shock, disbelief, incredulity, “really?!”. But eventually, they hear me out and we’d move on in conversation. There was this one particular American (hilaw..Pinay pa rin sya) who approached me and when she found out my plans, she cajoled,”Ano pa mangyayari sa yo sa Pilipinas? Sigurado ka na babalik ka? Bakit?!” I was so put off. Bakit nga ba hindi? Paki mo. May kasabihan nga tayo,”Ang hindi tumingin sa pinanggalingan, hindi makararating sa paruruonan.” I wish I said all this to her out loud. But unlike her, I am just too polite. I did not question them for venturing overseas in the supposed land of milk and honey. Sigh. To each his own, we all have our different means to fulfillment.
It was refreshing to sit down next to a woman of Indian origin. She has been in New Jersey for 16 years now and still has some years of practice ahead of her. She basically asked the same questions. When she heard my plan, “Oh, that’s great. Best to go back to your own country. That is what I will be doing next year. Good luck on that.”
Amen.

flying south

I had apprehensions as I stepped into the plane for my flight to Atlanta. It was a small plane carrying about 50 passengers max (reminiscent of the Baliwag Transit buses but only equipped with wings). As it took off, I could definitely feel the turbulence and the buoyancy. I was feeling a tad ill. My heart raced. I prayed to God that I will make it to Atlanta all in one piece. Also, I was thanking Him for giving me the foresight to buy travel insurance. Thoughts of my children crammed into my head. Lord, maliliit pa po ang mga anak ko. I was so relieved when the pilot announced our arrival onto Jackson Hartsfield Airport in Atlanta. Yey! Made it! As I stepped out of the plane feeling the sweltering heat of the south, for a second there, I thought I was back in Manila. How I wish!

made my day

I am post call today. I had come home to the apartment and slumped on the sofa utterly exhausted. I woke up numbed 5 hours later. My first thought was about my family back home. I miss Jun, Nikki, Maxine and Lomi. I yearned to see their faces and to hear their voices. I logged on to the internet and sent a text message to my husband. It would be 8am Manila time. He should be up by now. I waited for a reply. Nothing. Hmmm...I sent another message and still nothing. I logged on to the instant messaging service we chat through and he wasn't there. Somehow I felt neglected. He was always so good in getting hold of me. He would always be first. Finally, at about 10am (Manila time) I got a phone card and dialled the all too familiar numbers linking me home. Nanay Linda picked up. Jun was still in bed. He needed to be woken. I felt somehow deflated that he wasn't up and already calling me first. He explained that Nikki did not sleep until about 3am and he stayed up with her. Half the time, he seemed asleep still. I abruptly said I needed to rest too as he did, abruptly bade my goodbye and hung up. I felt dejected and oddly, hurt.
Though I said I needed to rest, I didn't. I was a little riled. Jun was too busy sleeping. What about me? I needed to sleep but I defied it for want of at least talking and seeing them if only online.
I mindlessly surfed the internet, whiling time away. Aimless. I felt empty.
The phone suddenly rang to life.
"Mama." It was Nikki. Her voice piercing straight to my heart. Tears welled up in my eyes.
"Baby, kamusta ka? I love you."
She rambled on, "Musta ka. Good night. I love you." (Jun was coaching her from the background.)
And then together, "Okay, say...I LOVE YOU!"
Say "ba-bye mama, liligo na po ako."
She said, "Ba-bye! Ligo na."
I was a weeping mess at that. Jun gave me something very special. Though I had slighted him earlier, he didn't take that in a bad way.
"Ayan, kahit ang sungit mo kanina...sana mas okay ka na. I love you mama. Kahit hindi ka nagsabi kanina."
Through tears I told him, "I love you too papa. Salamat ha for this."
We counted off, "1-2-3...I love you." and hung up the same time.
I can now sleep with a lightness in my being.

reel better than real

Part of the job I do is antenatal counselling to parents. Basically, if there is a woman in preterm labor or should there be any other pressing issue about a would be newborn, I gather myself up to talk to the parents about what our shared concerns would be about their forthcoming baby and what we can do to best manage it medically. It is not easy. I meet these people for the first time and what we have to talk about is usually far from being pleasant. Why? Imagine a scenario wherein an expectant mother goes into preterm labor at 24 weeks gestation and I would have to give the spiel about what are the likely things to happen and what our medical recommendations would be. The picture I paint is not rosy at all in terms of acute and long term outcomes. That is real. And really puts a load on me as the harbringer of bad news.
Usually I wind up the talk by saying that it was very nice to have met them but that hopefully her labor would get controlled and then if they don't see me again soon, that will all be for the better of us all. With this, at least, I get some smiles back. I proceed to tell them to feel free to ask any question they have in their thoughts and I would do me best to answer them. One time, there was a father whose wife was in preterm labor at 30 weeks gestation and with twins!!
Father seriously asks, "There is one thing, I need to know."
"Yes? By all means shoot."
"Do doctors really live exciting lives like in Grey's anatomy?"
Now, that is all reel.

carnivore's delight

Red Violin is a Brazilian restaurant over at Danforth and Broadview. A bunch of us had dinner there last night as a despedida for Marcelo who is going back to Brasilia as he has wound up his fellowship. It was a good thing I had barely eaten the whole day and lost myself in reading "By the river Piedra.." at World's Biggest Bookstore. This is now my new found hobby...reading away and finishing a book without purchase. Good thing it isn't like National Bookstore where all the books are wrapped in plastic. Reading is actually encouraged not merely advertised. But I digress.

The restaurant itself is housed in one of the old buildings of the district and bears a striking wooden facade. Lit tea candles illuminate the room and softlighting provides a relaxed and easy atmosphere which coaxes conversation. Our host announced that we should start with the appetizers and salad all laid out in the bar at the middle. It was a varied selection. Breads, salads (loved the mango ensalada!), eggs and different types of cheese -- there were servings of cubed white cheese with guava jelly on top which were just yummy. I had two rounds to whet my appetite. The next part of our meal was the main course. Red violin is a churrascaria, a restaurant where the specialty is churrasco, that is, to barbecue. True to Brazilian form, we were served espeto corrido style. Servers came one after the other bearing large skewers of different types of barbecued meat and slicing portions right to your plate. First they brought out chicken, then pork, beef then lamb. And kept on going and going until you said STOP. Each meat was prepared and presented in four different cuts and flavors. The best I sampled was the Picanha, a beef tenderloin cut that was just heavenly succulent. It was an all you can eat parade of meats, a workout for kidneys with protein to last a whole month and truly, truly, truly a carnivore's delight. Roar!


photo from www.stomp.com.sg

maleta

Today, I bought myself my first piece of luggage. I have been mulling over making this purchase the past few days for my upcoming trip to Atlanta. Yes, it is the first time I have bought luggage. What about my previous travels, you say? Well, I have lugged around the same gigantic green Samsonite since 1982. It is not about to retire yet, far from it. I just needed something a tad smaller for Atlanta. If I bring my trusty old Samsonite, my tita who I am staying with, might think that I will be staying for good. So, I did my research. Have you noticed that the luggage sold nowadays though packed with a lot of features weigh like a ton? So much for baggage allowance when you travel..the luggage itself would account for about a third of that weight! And with their intricate handle systems, much of the packing space is taken up. That is why I have stuck it out with my Samsonite. It is the original lightweight, made of fabric, no padding, with external pockets and a revolution of its time...with four wheels and a strap for mobility! I really am pretty loyal.

What did I end up buying? I got a Heys hardside in tomato red. Though with it's own internal handle system (another fancy way of referring to the same pull system Maxine's school bag has), it still is spacious inside and remarkably light. Plus, it is expandable by another 2.5 inches! It has all the features of my trusty Samsonite though arguably more fashionable. I just fell in love with the color! You think?

seasons

I bravely ventured outside today. Pretty much, I have had a self imposed house arrest, barely moving from the seat where I have planted myself in front of my laptop...lost in cyberspace. I figured, I needed to get some sun and start walking to wake my muscles up. Fine day though that I chose. It was raining. No matter. College Park was my first destination. It is one of the first places I remembered how to get to from my apartment. There are patches of green grass and a smattering of trees giving cover from the harsh Toronto sun. Iron wrought park benches circle a pool. Now that it is the summer, it is a haven for a variety of birds -- gulls, pigeons and whatnots. Even little children join in the fray at times. By the time I got there, a mere three blocks away, the rain had fizzled out into a drizzle. I sat myself down on a bench and opened my book in front of me. A cool breeze whipped onto my pages and I felt myself shiver. In a few more weeks, summer would be over and the verdant foliage I see now will turn into the amazing golden colors of the fall. The pool will harden into ice and become a meeting place for skating enthusiasts. Winter will bring with it the biting cold and people will look like eskimos. They will curse and shovel at the snow. But to me, winter will usher in a welcome warmth in my heart. I know that I will be home soon.

not again

Much like in June, I find myself staring at the walls for unending hours. I somehow cannot bring myself up to the task of picking up on my scholarly activities as it is again my research month. In the morning, I conjure a time schedule in my head figuring in my list of "to do's" and yet I don't get to do anything. In the end, I scold myself for the time I have wasted yet I don't feel any guilt.

My mind drifts to thoughts of home.

I imagine lying down in our bed and having all five of us on it, tickling, giggling and having a laughing good time. My hubby and kids showering me with kisses and hugs that go on forever. Sheer joy.

It is not that I am wallowing in sadness but I do have this sense of longing. Or maybe I am just deceiving myself with semantics. Sigh. I have to snap out of this.

lomi not sick

I had called up at my parents' house in Bulacan. My kids were staying there for the weekend. Narcing, Lomi's yaya who has been with him since he was 7 months old, answered the phone. "Ay, may sakit si Lomi. Nilalagnat, may ubo at ayaw kumain." If you know Lomi, it takes a lot for him to lose his appetite. So this really sounded serious to me. Lomi has asthma and he has been in hospital five or six times for frightening exacerbations. In each of these, he became well acquainted with the IV needles and he has never really forgotten. So though he himself knows that he is sick, he will deny it like no other. Lomi would insist on taking medication and then say, "Lomi drink medicine. Lomi not sick, Lomi not sick." And true enough, he took the phone from his Ate and was telling me over and over, "Mama Donna, Lomi not sick! Lomi not sick!" My Ate Dina put the phone on speaker and said, "Lomi is sick e. Did Lomi drink medicine?" To which Lomi said, "Lomi drink medicine. Lomi not sick. Lomi not sick."

I remember one time though when he was quite sick and not eating, he seemed to be withering away in front of my eyes.
"Lomi, are you sick?"
"Mama Donna, Lomi sick."
"If Lomi does not eat, Lomi will get tusok and suero." And this was met with the most ear piercing wail.
"No, no. Lomi no tusok! Lomi no tusok!"
Being a doctor's house, believe it or not, our shelves were stocked with IV fluids and IV needles and Lomi knew where they were.
Remarkably maybe he knew himself that he was getting weak, he took out the stuff and said between sobs and wails, "Lomi, tusok." Pointing to a vein easily seen on his right hand. Though he was protesting, he allowed me to start the IV albeit while being restrained by his papa and Narcing.
This memory brings tears to my eyes.

As I am countless of miles away, I can only pray that Lomi, Maxine, Nikki and Jun always remain in good health. I hope next time I talk to them he will be well. Ingat kayo lagi ha.

ten things + 1

Recently I had received a chain email of sorts. It was requiring that I fill in 10 things about myself. Hmmm...I thought about this for a bit and found myself puzzled. My life's pretty much been an open book but I guess there still are things that people would be surprised to know about me. Here goes...

1. My father is such a pack rat and as a consequence, I love sifting through my parents' old stuff from the 60's and 70's. Three of my hippest tops are my mom's from that era. Talk about vintage.
2. I have flat feet. (Even I only found out recently during a trip to the Science Center with Maxine)
3. One of my most prized possesions is a pair of diamond stud earrings I wear day in and day out. These were my mom's first pair of diamond earrings which she bought from Amsterdam in 1965. She gave them to me when I turned 13.
4. I am collecting DVD's of on-screen adaptations of broadway musicals.
5. I drink at least two glasses of milk a day.
6. When I buy a book, I inspect it thoroughly. There must be no dog-ears, no crease in the spine or any part thereof and I love to sniff a new book, I love the smell of paper!!
7. I would like to indulge myself more in baking, perhaps even do a home based enterprise with Lomi.
8. I speak English without a discernable Filipino accent. People here in Toronto always mistake me to be American!! What?!
9. Jun and I first exchanged marital vows at the Quezon City Hall before the church rites at the San Beda Chapel.
10. My first choice among college courses when I filed my applications then was Journalism. I guess this is my "what if" in life...

Oh and one other thing: I own and have read all the Agatha Christie mystery books.

loving the stage

Last May, a number of us hied off to the Princess of Wales Theater at King Street. Phantom of the Opera was playing. I have always been a fan of musicals. I am grateful that back in the PI, Repertory Philippines is such a goldmine of talent showcasing memorable productions. Topping my list are My Fair Lady, Miss Saigon and my all time fave, Les Miserables (I watched this 5 times!!) Somehow, I find myself feeling strongly and bawling over the song "One Day More". I guess because it is my personal anthem nowadays.

But I digress, back to Phantom.
I was expectant of something grand as we entered the theater. I was not disappointed. The music was flawless, the actors' voices crystal and powerful. Poignant were "Think of Me" and "All I Ask of You". Completely immersing was "Music of the Night" and "Point of No Return". "Masquerade" was a stunning visual feast. When it ended, I yearned for the music not to stop. As we stepped out in the cool breeze, we found ourselves all humming to the music. The memory of the experience lingers in me and even now, a few weeks past, I can still feel in my being the haunting notes as the organ played to the melody of "Phantom of the Opera."

I have found a fellow Phantom freak in one of our staff consultants who generously gave me her copy of the 2004 movie version starring Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum. For those who cannot see the actual musical on stage, the movie is an exact depiction, almost as powerful as relishing the scenes in the theater.

If there is a regret I have, it is not having had the chance to see "Wicked" when it showed here. "Defying Gravity" is a favorite of mine. I hope there will be another time.

I am now looking forward to watching "Dirty Dancing" which will start playing in November. When "Dirty Dancing" the movie came out, I was a high school freshman. I barely remember the storyline. To my delight, there was a dvd sale at the nearby Best Buy and I got a 20 year anniversary DVD for 6.99 CAD. I now have full appreciation of the music and what the hype was all about from before. I cannot wait to see this on stage. I wonder how they will present practicing the lifts in the river?

Lastly, what I am enthused about is watching my all time fave Les Miserables at least once on the Broadway stage. I only hope that I have enough time to catch Lea Salonga as Fantine.

yaya Nanay

Ate Fe, formerly yaya to my cousins Tess and Elpie and now companion to my Tita Mamie, dropped by our house in Sampaloc yesterday. Through the years, she and Nanay Linda have bonded. They are two peas in a pod. Ate Fe has been with my tita's family for almost 28 years now and Nanay Linda has been with mine for 36 years. I don't think there are many out there who can rival such loyalty. Nanay Linda cared for me as a newborn, accompanied my parents and I on my first day in nursery school and was with me everyday until I finished grade school. In high school, college and through med school, she was a constant presence, intuitively knowing my needs. She cried when I got married and was there when I gave birth to all my children. Now, that I am far away, she is with my own family, looking after my youngest. Nanay Linda is 54 years old now. Jun often worries that she does not have the stamina to keep up with my rambunctious 2 year old that we do have another yaya pitching in for Nikki. I have heard comments on letting her retire. She will go when she wants to is what I say. She is much a member of my family rather than a paid employee. Besides, I draw comfort in knowing that my children are surrounded by people who I trust and will see to it that no harm befalls them. I trust the hand that raised me.

childhood pearls

Recently, Maxine has had lapses in her schoolwork. Jun has been griping about how she has been missing out on doing her own homework.
Standard reply, "Oh, I forgot."
His retort, "How can that be? You yourself wrote that down in your notebook just today."
A mere shrug of the shoulders would be the reply followed by, "Sorry."
Jun is exasparated. Now, he patrols all her notebooks like a hawk. Her Nintendo DS playing privileges have been suspended.
Now, Jun is hoping for me to talk some sense into Maxine. Sigh!

What did my own mother tell me? Not much really, it was in how she did things.
Back in 6th grade, I came home with my report card and showed it to her. Modesty aside, all my grades were above 90 except for Math which was 89. My mother took notice of my 89 above all. I was deflated and felt resentment...why can't I ever do enough? It just drove me on further to do better and I must say that I did.

In retrospect now, I figure I can use my mom's tactic but I will do it with so much more finesse.
I was just on the phone with Maxine.
"Anak, I heard that you did a great job with your quizzes. Papa said that you mostly had just a mistake or none. I know you are such a smart girl and you work hard."
"Thank you, mama." I can hear her preening.
Maneuver one. Heap tonnes of praise first. Build confidence and pride for work.

"Papa did say that you were missing out on your homework on two or three occasions already. That does not sound like you. Make sure that you have finished your work ha. I don't understand your excuse that you forgot. Keep focused, anak. You are better than that. Do you have any problems? You know papa and I are always here for you."
Maneuver two. Then point out what needs to be improved and offer suggestions.

"For now, I am sorry sweetheart. But no Nintendo muna talaga until you get your act together. Once I see that you are able to do your work well then you'll get to play that again. I wish you see that papa and I only want you to become what we know you can be because you are a smart girl but you have to work hard. Matalino ka man pero kung hindi ka magsisipag, kulang ang talino, anak."
Maneuver three. Inject the pearls that need emphasis.

"I love you Maxine. Papa loves you too. We only want what's best for all of you. You are such a great girl. I know you can do this. You always make us proud."
Maneuver four. Reiterate good qualities, build support and confidence. Establish that she is loved.

It is so much harder being a parent now. There is a lot more talking and feeling and negotiations nowadays as kids are indeed more savvy. Gone are the days when my mom would only give me a knowing look and that will be enough to stop me dead in my tracks.

first and third world medicine

I came to Toronto for training primarily because I wanted to learn and grow accustomed to the theoretically ideal ways of managing a sick baby, not just to read about it off a book. And what better hospital then Sick Kids? When Dr. Skidmore (my boss now) interviewed me for this fellowship one of the key things he did point out to me is that when I go back to Manila after this stint, will I not get frustrated? And of course, I boldly said, well, who knows, maybe when I make my comeback, the resources and technology in the first world will be available then. Big words. Did I say that health care here in Toronto is free for any legitimate resident? NO limits. Now that I am a third into my fellowship, I have gotten used to having anything humanly possible to support an ill baby. Money is not an issue. Quite a far cry to how I trained as a pediatric resident and even as a practicing pediatrician in the Philippines where resource allocation was a tricky thing to manage. I remember being a resident in charge of a baby with meningitis receiving costly antibiotics. The family was poor and there were five other mouths to feed. I took out a thousand pesos off my own pocket for the mother to buy medicine. When she came back, she brought four bags full of groceries. I had no words. And now with this memory, I fear that Dr. Skidmore's words may become prophetic.

Toronto living

On a daily basis, I try to think of things why it is good to be living and working here in Toronto. I do this maybe just to ease the pain of being so far away from my loved ones. The stuff I have here are far from being deep. Mababaw lang kaligayahan ko. So, here goes and not in any particular order..

1. Canadians are very warm and supportive...at least those whom I have met and made friends with.
2. There are a lot of parks dotting the city. I see a lot of dogs around but you don't see any sign that they've been there.
3. I barely see and smell pollution.
4. If you work hard enough, you can play harder. Earning a thousand dollars goes a long way than earning a thousand pesos for sure.
5. Related to number four, I can indulge myself in a passion...shoes! Electronics come in a close second.
6. Winners! If you've been here, you'll know this shop. It is a discount store for designer labels.
7. There are a lot of public holidays. I think there is always a long weekend every month.
8. The best hot peanut chicken is in Spadina Garden restaurant just round the corner from my building.
9. Transportation via TTC around the city is easy.
10. I am nurturing a different aspect of myself, the side of me that never really got to live as a single person.

Lastly, I am hopeful that because I am doing what I do here, it will be the better for my profession back home and most of all, for my family.

Sigh!

today's special: LOMI

Somebody asked me today how come my firstborn's name is Lomi.
Well, actually it is his nickname.
Why on earth did we choose a nickname reminiscent of the popular Filipino noodle dish?
Let me tell the story.
I was a medical intern doing community medicine rotation at the farming town of Laurel, Batangas. It was beautiful there really. Coconut trees towered, fields of corn as far as the eye can see and the wind rustling through them somewhat orchestrating a very calming sound. The people were simple, easy to chatter and opened their lives and homes to us generously. It was an area quite untouched by the excesses seen in Manila which I guess, in some part, was due to the still very rough roads there at the time. Motorcycles and horses were quite in vogue.
At this time, I was 16 weeks pregnant. Jun was driving me back after a weekend spent in Manila. The huge craters in the road was a difficult terrain for our Toyota sedan to conquer but my husband forged on, determined to bring me to my destination at least in air conditioned comfort. Now there was this particularly huge pothole in the middle of the road that Jun could not possible maneuver around so the car literally dove into it and we heard the chassis grinding sound with the earth. It was nerve wracking! In that instant, I had my quickening, the very first time I felt our baby move!! The baby probably was stirred by all the racket going on. I let out a gasp and Jun looked over to me in deep concern. I told him I felt our baby move for the very first time and he quickly placed his hand over my belly. It was an exciting time. Just by the roadside was a carinderia -- a little eatery. There was a sign out by the window. Today's special: LOMI. We thought, how appropriate. It was a special time and place. Right there and then, Jun and I agreed that if our first baby were to be a boy, he was going to be Lorenzo Miguel, Lomi for short.
Now as I look back, I had no idea how prophetic that signage was. Lomi is indeed special in every way.

conjugal chronicles issue 2

Being a parent is the most difficult job. That's why I figure, God made it so that there would be two parents for every child. A tag team partnership...mom feeling low? dad will take up the cudgels and vice-versa. So I can just imagine how doubly difficult it is for single parents. This is exactly the situation Jun finds himself in now. When I was in Manila, together we played different roles in our children's lives. Now he has adapted to mold all of those in himself (he really tries). It is incredible to hear stories of how he had yet survived (barely at times) another day. From trying to curb Lomi's insatiable appetite and his kakulitan, to Maxine's at times confusing emerging "tween" phase and Nikki's evolving ambition it seems of becoming a stuntgirl. And these are just on the surface. He told me one time, "Hirap mama. Dumadami na puting buhok ko." We had a deal in the past before I came here to Toronto. At any point in time that he asks me to come back for any reason at all, I will go. No questions asked. I feel for him. "Do you want me to come home na?" "Hindi mama. Ikaw naman. Tapusin mo yan. Nagsasabi lang ako pero kaya pa." He may not be the man of steel but he is my man of mettle.

paranoia

I had a terrible blinding headache this morning. The kind that just makes me want to pull the blinds down and bury my head under the pillows. Add to the fact that I was in need of some premium sleep time being post call. But no can do. I had the most ingenious idea of booking my US visa interview this same day. Arrggghhhh!
Gulping down three advil with a shot of milk, I somewhat functioned. Showered, dressed, made myself up to look far from what I felt. And then I was off.
Normally, I would just walk to my destination, the US consulate office was just about a couple of blocks away. I took the subway instead. When I got there, a single security officer was standing outside. A far cry from the usual mob scene outside the embassy in Manila. After checking my passport and papers, he asked if I had a cellphone etc. As a force of habit now, I had absentmindedly clipped my pager on to my belt loop. "Well, I have a pager." There was a faintest trace of irritation in his reply. "Why do you have a pager? Pagers aren't allowed. Do you have ID?" Goodness, I felt like I was to be charged with a federal offense. Are they paranoid or am I? He led to me to another security officer who was seated behind a window. "Show him your ID." Good thing I had all my three work badges. The second officer seemed impressed and said, "So you're a doctor. Are you on call?" In my mind, I was thinking that would be the farthest thing I wanted to be right now. "I actually stepped out of hospital to come here." "Oh, okay. So you are on call then." Fine. If that was how he wanted to put it. As they allowed me through, there were two other security officers inside who singled me out and said, "Ma'm, you're the one with the pager, right? The doctor on call." Yes. Yes. Guilty. Doctor post call more like it. My head was dull and heavy.
I waited for my turn with the consul. There was a roomful of people. Great. I wondered how long this was going to take. My mind half asleep, I heard my name called. I got up thinking that I was going to be done soon. Wrong. I had myself fingerprinted. No messy ink here, only a direct print scanner which I guess inputs it directly to a computer database. OOOooohhhh...scenes out of CSI. I now have a permanent record with the US government. Somewhat I had felt my privacy had been invaded. I took my seat again. One and a half hours later, "Philippine passport...Donna Capili." For all that wait, my interview was done in three minutes. Yun na? Anyway, who am I to complain? The moment I got home, my head was buried deep again in the pillows. Ah, blissful sleep.

coming clean

I think I am developing an addiction.
I am almost too ashamed to admit it.
It started one night when I was online. I was seated in front of my trusty Dell and enveloped by darkness with only some illumination coming from the glare of the screen.
I was sent a link to watch a video and my eyes became glued and I wanted to see more. Bodies close together, moving in unison, dramatic expressions, hands melded and with almost always the perfect music to set the mood. I was hooked. I will be up til late at night just transfixed and amazed at the flexibility of the human body.
Now, now, before thoughts go wandering off and I can imagine kinky minds thinking that I have developed a taste for sex videos. Que horror! I am not that desperate (LOL!). What I refer to is a growing addiction to watching "So You Think You Can Dance" clips on youtube.I am just mesmerized (and okay, I admit it, envious) that there are people who are naturally endowed with the grace and fluidity of movement. Darn it! I want to be like that too. I may not be born with it but I sure can learn ( or at least try ).
So, Jun, when I get back, we are taking ballroom classes. Please?

pick up at the drugstore

I was at a local drugstore last week. I was running low on hair care supply and needed to replenish. My timing could not be more perfect. They had my brand on sale at 2.99 CAD from the usual 5.99 CAD. Great. I was lost in decision making. Hmmm...should I be getting the cleanse and mend shampoo combo with the moist conditioner or just take the combo moist shampoo and conditioner...my thoughts were deeply engaged. As you can see this was serious. A woman's hair is her crowning glory after all. Then came a voice from nowhere.
"So which is the better product?" Huh? It was a Caucasian guy holding a different brand shampoo, clean cut, probably in his mid-twenties or so, with a nice smile. Kinda cute.
I said, "It really depends on what you are looking for."
To which he said, "Your hair's great." I preened at that.
"Well, thanks. If you think my hair's great, try my brand then." And I left it there, moving away as I got back to thinking which purchase to make.
"So, would you like to go for a cup of coffee? You're not with anyone now, are you?"
I was completely taken aback but kept my cool.
I replied with a smile, "Oh, that's very nice of you to ask (then flashing my wedding band) but my husband is just coming to pick me up in a while. I'm married. Thanks anyway."
"Oh, ok. Really, I didn't think you were...didn't mean to trouble you. Have a good day." He was smooth and he stepped away.
"Have a nice day yourself." My smile further deepened almost into a laugh as I thought to myself, he would have been really floored had he known that I have three kids as well.
Funny. Of all the places to strike a conversation and attempt to hook up. Hmmm...but it felt good to be appreciated in a way. So glad this encounter happened on the day of my birthday. A boost for my ego as I turned a year older. Who knew?

kitchen tales

Today I had felt different.
Truth to tell since Maxine and my parents left in May, I lost all taste for cooking much to Pat's dismay. I have subsisted on ceral, milk and granola bars. Any cooking (and I use this term loosely) I did only involved frying spam, sausages, weiners or bacon. Does using the rice cooker count?
Since two and a half months ago, I had not ventured into Chinatown til this afternoon. I picked up some meat, chicken, chayote, bok choy, string beans, snap peas, strawberries and longgan. What am I going to cook? I have no idea. I can make the the old reliable sinigang, adobo, nilaga and tinola. Apart from these, I make my "no name" recipes. These are one time dishes I make by tossing some ingredients together and voila!..a creation (surprisingly edible each time) that I may never replicate again. One such example is a peanut sauce I had made to go with some steamed spinach. Maxine liked it so much that she was asking for me to send her the recipe via email so she can ask ate Narcing to make it for her. Now, the problem with that is...duh!
So what did I make tonight? Well, to actually go to market was a big step. I wasn't feeling at all that exuberant to experiment in the kitchen. See if you can guess...pork let to boil in water, with tomatoes, bok choy, string beans, radish and patis. Getting warm now?
Bon appetit!

birthday at Joe Mamas

Last night, I went out with friends to celebrate. Joe Mamas is a southern style restaurant at the heart of King street. Stepping in, it had felt just right. The lights were dimmed with tea lights flickering all around. The crowd's like thirty-something out for a laid back and relaxed atmosphere. Above the chatter, the DJ was playing a repertoire of jazzy fusion sounds. We sat just in front of the small stage. Brown Sugar was playing tonight. The food was decidedly New Orleans and how can I go wrong with baby back ribs? I was right. I had eaten the most amazing baby back ribs! Tender, peeling off the bone, juicy, tasty and with the added bonus of having been soaked in a bourbon based marinade...yum! The cozy ambience was given a livelier rhythm when Brown Sugar's pop and RNB covers just hit the right spots. They treated us with the sounds of Marvin Gaye, the Police, Norah Jones and the previously black then mocha eras of Michael Jackson. We were singing, swaying and dancing in our seats. No worries. Just a good time. I had my own little birthday cake slice with a candle on top of it while being seranaded with a birthday ditty by the band. Great company, food and music. Thanks to Pat, Monette, Sheena and Serena. It was a wonderful evening.

Deep

I came across something today as I was rummaging through the endless rows of books at WBB. There was a little self help book that I was scanning and inscribed on a page was, "Life is not looking for the path you were meant to take but life is all about creating the path you want to take." Whoa! Deep man. I figured, I have always known (maybe) it to be so but this certainly yanks me back to perspective. This is my moment of enlightenment for the day.

ears peeled

Since today is my birthday, there is always room for some introspection. For some reason, I always remember my preparatory school teahcer Ms. Ancheta. Talk about teachers leaving an indelible mark...she surely did on me.
To lay out the background, I attended a Roman Catholic school run by nuns for all my primary years. In those days, strict really meant STRICT. Even for a bunch of children just right out of being toddlers.
My class was noisy. What do you expect out of a mingling of 4 and 5 year olds? Our teacher had just stepped out and upon coming back saw us in a complete disarray about our homeroom. I guess I was particularly exuberant and more importantly, I did not notice her presence. "Donna, sit down." I froze, took a slow turn and scurried to my seat. Ms. Ancheta was shaking her head. "I told all of you to be quiet." There was a hush in the room. She then proceeded to make two circles on the board. And added circles for eyes, circles for ears and so on and then came up with two faces. Under one face, she wrote my name and underneath the other, her favored pupil's name. She further illustrated, "See here, (she drew an arrow going into the ear of her favored one) when I say something, she listens. When I say keep quiet, it stays in her head (and proceeds to draw a straight line blocking the exit off the other ear). Very good (favored one)." And then she moved to the next face. "Now, this, Donna, what I say goes in (drawing a similar arrow through my ear) and yet it just slips through and out the other ear (drawing an arrow going out my other ear). This is not good. If you do not learn how to listen, you will never learn." Ouch! I felt that I was diminishing by the second. It left such an impression on me.
But Ms. Ancheta should see me now. I proved her wrong. I have learned...even with selective listening.

3 + 4 = 7

Just one day more and it will be exactly 34 years ago when I came to be on this earth. I have been told many times that this is a lucky year for me. Why? Well, I was born on the seventh month, on the seventh day and now, it is the seventh year of the 21st century. So it is a triple seven combo. Add to that the fact that I am 34 years old this year and 3 + 4 = 7. I wonder how this will play out. Is there really such thing as luck? I am keeping my fingers crossed with a lot of help from the Almighty, of course.

my indispensible things in Toronto

It has been a year since I came here. I realize that to survive here, these are key for me.
1. My laptop - without this, I would be totally in disconnect with my family.
2. Internet connection - of course, as essential as number 1.
3. Phone cards - truly a genius innovation. Before I ever got numbers 1 and 2, these cards were my lifeline.
4. Granola bars - I have gone on days without eating a substantial meal and only fuelled by these bars. Mind you, I have to take at least one every 4-6 hours.
5. Jergen's lotion and neutrogena moisturizer with spf 30 - I used to hate applying this back home where it is very humid and hot. Here though, it is very essential or else suffer the skin rivaling the dried leaves in the old Camay commercials.
6. Milk and cereal - this is usually my main meal of the day -- breakfast! or lunch or even dinner.
7. Comfy walking shoes - no such thing as driving here for me. Parking is ridiculously expensive. It is walk, walk, walk, walk!!
8. Aussie line of shampoo and conditioner - since I don't get to indulge in my parlor habit here (they are so pricey...shudder), I have to buy stuff off the pharmacist's shelves and this line has worked wonders for me. Add to this the hair dryer which is my staunch ally in taming my wavy hair.
9. Ibuprofen - I have needed to pop a couple all in one time for the meanest of headaches!
10. My digital camera - always ready to snap up wonderful memories.

There are a couple of things more but these came first to my mind. Oh and of course, my ATM card...this goes without saying.