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.