tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105721912024-03-14T02:30:57.074-07:00Wapakels!Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-5642395329681197212010-03-30T06:36:00.000-07:002010-03-30T06:46:16.964-07:00Breats Cancer Part 8<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKt0AkGGSf3ogcmxOElxOyKCaBO5Dz_MVN4dAX1n0n5gsHzhxI5tzY6Rr4muT65SNpdgFRyrWjQsLb92_FsAN90Ge-ysfcDdky9_8vHUGf3UiK1EA5MTc3w5Q_LtWwACzAh2FWXg/s1600/pinkribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKt0AkGGSf3ogcmxOElxOyKCaBO5Dz_MVN4dAX1n0n5gsHzhxI5tzY6Rr4muT65SNpdgFRyrWjQsLb92_FsAN90Ge-ysfcDdky9_8vHUGf3UiK1EA5MTc3w5Q_LtWwACzAh2FWXg/s320/pinkribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454421677729334626" /></a><br />I was sitting there in the lobby, waiting for the oncologist to arrive. I already filled up a profile form and left it with the secretary. She said she will call me as soon as the doctor arrives. I took stock of the many patients sitting on the long row of chairs against the wall facing the doctor's room. There was a little girl, looking pale and listless. Leukemia. I smiled sadly at the mother and she smiled sadly back. There was a man sitting right beside me. He was fiddling with his cellphone, trying all the ringtones and it grated on my nerves. I looked at his face and saw the empty stare, and I saw his hand holding the cell phone shaking. I turned away quickly, I couldn't bear the look of resignation on the man's face. It was like looking at his naked soul and I thought I was violating his privacy. An old woman wearing a hat and a gauze mask was talking to the man beside her. She obviously has been having chemo treatments and has lost her hair judging from the way she was holding her hat anchored to her head. As if she was afraid it will fall off and reveal the damage that cancer has wreaked on her appearance. I heard her saying how damnable it is that she has to depend upon the goodwill of her family to do things for her. I sympathized with her. I hate having my sister or my daughter washing my clothes for me, or preparing my meals or carrying heavy things for me. Too many people afflicted with cancer judging by the number of them waiting for the oncologist. I looked down at my clasped hands, not wanting to see anymore. Kids, old people, men or women. Cancer does not discriminate. It takes who and all it wants and play with their lives with impunity.<br /><br />"Ms. Darl", I heard the secretary calling me."The doctor is here and he will see you now." I came slowly to my feet and walked like the damned entering the execution chamber. <br /><br />The chair was a bright tangerine. I was wearing a summer dress of the exact same color. I will get lost in that chair, I thought inanely. The doctor was talking to someone on the phone and motioned me to sit down without looking up. I sat gingerly on the edge of the chair. I thought to myself that maybe when the doctor finally looks up, he won't find me because I have merged with his tangerine chair. <br /><br />"Your doctor has called me and has already explained your condition to me." The doctor's deep voice broke into my crazy thoughts.<br /><br />"Yes," I replied. "He said he would." The oncologist is my doctor's personal friend. <br /><br />Without preamble, I added. "Did he tell you I can't afford the treatment?"<br /><br />"We will discuss that after I have checked you up." <br /><br />The doctor led me to the examination room. I was embarrassed that I bled when he was examining the lump. The doctor left me in private to clean up and get back into my clothes. He stared at me somberly when I walked back into his office.<br /><br />"Darl, I have been a doctor for a long time, and judging by the feel and look of that lump, it's already 8cm. <br /><br />It was 3.8 by 4 by 1.5cm in my last sonogram. So it has grown to twice it's size in one month. I was almost choking with the horror of it. I had to clear my throat before I could voice out the thoughts running through my mind. <br /><br />"You mean it has grown so fast in the last month, is that possible?" That was a stupid question . Of course it was possible. It already did, the doctor just told me. And of course when I look in the mirror, I can see that it's bigger than it was. But I was not thinking in terms of centimeters, more like in terms of life and death. I look at myself and I ask how much time I have to find the money for the treatment before the cancer gets worse and unmanageable.<br /><br />"You need to start your chemotherapy as soon as possible. You are in stage 3, and you need that lump to get smaller through chemotherapy before your surgeon can perform a mastectomy. He can't do that now because the lump will leave a large hole in your chest, and he can't close you up properly." <br /><br />"So what am I facing financially, Doctor?"<br /><br />"You want to make the cost as manageable as possible. Your doctor told me you don't have medical insurance. Cancer treatment is very costly. But there are ways to reduce the cost of some of the treatments. Like your chemotherapy. You need 6 sessions at the very least, 3 before the surgery, and another 3 after the surgery. I recommend radiotherapy for 30 days after the chemo sessions. Now here's the plan. I listened to the doctor attentively.<br /><br />He laid out a treatment plan for me and by the time we were through, we have decided that I am going to be treated as an outpatient and not as an inpatient. It will cut down the hospital cost by a very big percentage and he is giving me a big discount from his professional fee. He was able to bring the price down to PhP 20,000.00 per session. He warned me that the mastectomy will be expensive at a conservative estimate of PhP250,000.00. That is not inclusive of my doctor's professional fee, But my doctor, who will also be my surgeon has promised me that he will be charging me a very minimal fee. Then I need to have 30 sessions of radiation therapy estimated at PhP 75,000.00 for 30 days session. He said cobalt is cheaper at half that price, but he wouldn't recommend it because it has more side effects. He always recommends linear radiation because it has less side effects. <br /><br />"So, shall I make an appointment for you on Wednesday?" the doctor asked. <br /><br />"No, doctor, not yet. That's a lot of money we are talking about and I don't have it ready. I still have to find some ways to come up with almost half a million pesos to make my treatment possible.<br /><br />I left the hospital with a heavy heart. When I got home, I cried and cried, and after I recovered from a bout of self-pity, I prayed and meditated on the love of God and His Word. I calmed down and told the family I am not going to have them get buried in debt so that I can have my treatment. I told them I will try to get assistance from local agencies and I searched the internet for them. But the requirements disqualify me outright. I am an Australian government's pensioner which means I have an income. so I am not a class D citizen. Of course I think that's unfair because my pension is just enough for my house rental, basic necessities and some minor medical expenses. Cancer treatment is very expensive and my pension won't stretch that far. I wrote to the Australian Government to inquire if I can get some medical assistance from them. They wrote back that as I am residing in the Philippines, they cannot give me any assistance. Unless I am in Australia which will make me a gold card holder and my cancer treatment will be covered by that. I keep getting blank walls and have resigned myself to not getting my treatments.<br /><br />But after my quiet time with God,and much prayer, I finally got back on track. I remembered what a counselor said to me in church the previous Sunday. She said I have to live my life one day at a time. and God will bring forth His blessings to me as I need them.<br /><br />The chemo treatment cost is lower than the price I was quoted with initially, and somehow, I know that we can swing the cost of that.I trust that God will do His best for me. <br /><br />Despite my trust in God, I still have some depressing moments, and the doctor said it's normal for cancer patients. I know God does not hold that against me. But right now, everything is looking up. I worried about not getting the chemotherapy, and now I know it might just be possible. Actually, I started worrying about the surgery already, but the family told me that is not right because I worried about the chemo,too. God will solve the surgery when it's time.<br /><br />I am more hopeful now. Many people in the Philippines die of cancer because treatment is unaffordable. But I am a child of God, and I know that my help comes from Him. I need to remember that and not give in to fear and depression. To pray without ceasing. And to put my unequivocal trust in Him, the Lord of lords, the King of kings.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-3623711999427242902010-03-13T18:39:00.000-08:002010-03-13T18:59:57.127-08:00Breast Cancer Part 7<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCE0r-uTl8BEOJup4DFf4DEnvqcPTW5ekTEp8b-3vGPHM16l-653cAiU_JbPxTmBWpUjiDqoBTPq01xC8UxJjdc3UaXD6THFdel7Hi-dG8qswNeqqknG_dmqcGfmHqIpq_ImE1dA/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCE0r-uTl8BEOJup4DFf4DEnvqcPTW5ekTEp8b-3vGPHM16l-653cAiU_JbPxTmBWpUjiDqoBTPq01xC8UxJjdc3UaXD6THFdel7Hi-dG8qswNeqqknG_dmqcGfmHqIpq_ImE1dA/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448314381557499858" /></a><br />I just finished some tests at the hospital, I was beat, fed up and hungry. I look at my family who all went with me to give me their support. There's Ma, my sister Thess, JB and Baby Stephie. They all look as tired and hungry as I was. Well, except for the 8 month old Stephie who was still gurgling and turning and twisting in her mother's arm. We all filed into the car, a rented Mitsubishi Adventure, and instructed the driver to drive us to the mall so we can have dinner. We got stuck in the traffic for almost an hour and as I looked around at all the cars at full stop in the heart of Makati, I wondered about the people behind the tinted glasses reflecting the bright lights of the commercial center.<br /><br />What are those people thinking about? Are they well? Are they tired and hungry? What kind of family waits for them at home? Do they know God? And if they do, do they trust Him? Do they value the right things? Are they taking their lives, their health for granted?<br /><br />I remember before I got sick. I was so busy living my life, I concentrated on the non-essentials thinking that they are the most important things then. I forgot the things that would have fed my soul, the things that could have made me more able to face what I'm facing now.<br /><br />But nobody regrets anything before the fact. Regrets always come in the end.<br /><br />Ma'am, shall I drop you at the front entrance and pick you up there after your dinner?" Joel, the driver took me out of my reverie. <br /><br />"Park the car somewhere and here's some money so you can have your dinner, too. We will text you when we are ready to leave." So we got off the car and looked for somewhere to eat. At the entrance to the supermarket, we met Mitch, my niece, just out from work and ready for dinner, too. She suggested a place and we all tiredly followed her. We placed our orders, and as we waited to be served, I looked amazed at all those people scrambling to be seated and served, too. Why are these people eating here, I thought to myself. Don't they have someone, maybe a wife, a mother waiting to serve them hot, home-cooked meals as soon as they get home? How sad could that be, if all these people are going home to an empty, dark house after a hard day's work. <br /><br />"Mommy, your food is getting cold.", Jaybee called my attention to my food. I looked around the table and it seemed to me that everyone's food is getting cold, too. No appetite in spite of being hungry. Maybe my news that the sono-mammogram showed some suspicious mass in the other breast has made everyone too sad to eat heartily. I told them to eat up and sadly watched as my family started eating in a desultory manner, as if the expensive food tasted like sawdust. We ended up taking home all the uneaten food and making Mitch keep them in her fridge in case she wanted to eat later.<br /><br />As for us, we went home to Pagsanjan after we dropped Mitch at her condo.It was almost midnight by the time we got there and everyone went straight to bed.<br /><br />I stayed awake. Too tired, but sleep was impossible. My mind was teeming with so many things. In the quiet of night, I can feel God's presence. I prayed for myself, I prayed for my family and friends. And I prayed that all those seemingly lost people in the mall will somehow be found, as God found me again. I was lost, but he found me and brought me back. They should have the time and the desire to listen for God's voice as they have their quiet time in the mornings and early evenings, or see God's wonder in nature, or just see God's mighty hand restraining the evil that would otherwise overcome our frail world. <br /><br />I have never appreciated God being in control of everything as I do now. There is nothing like knowing that when you are in the process of crossing a bridge over dark troubled waters, you are sure that it's strong and will hold your weight. Now I don't have to pretend I am strong and confident every minute of the day. It's so refreshing to be able to let go and let God. Surrendering to God is not a sign of weakness, as I see it. It's an opportunity to be sustained, restored. for he is our shelter and our refuge.<br /><br />Don't stay too long in the fast lane. Don't wait for illness to stop you in your tracks before you find the time to smell the roses, or hear God's soft voice. You can mostly hear God in the stillness, so take a break and spend time with Him. Learn to see and hear Him in the world around you. Learn to take pleasure in God's awesome presence . It takes a real desire and discipline to have quiet times with God.And there's nothing more beautiful, more inspiring, more reassuring than having God in your life.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-70033029869653412652010-03-13T18:28:00.000-08:002010-03-13T18:35:45.888-08:00Breast Cancer Part 6<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisurVYW5qruGvJ1FAYh-I2DElkzMHTWjt6_GHVzVWHX_Q8kJ8nNyrF6dFUeUfaiKFNgIv0FipiOvi1e2yFxzKLUL9UVjGUhheZ-FWWGyCThcOnef4S6Q9vEw8Gk3GYPBvUKDOUPA/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisurVYW5qruGvJ1FAYh-I2DElkzMHTWjt6_GHVzVWHX_Q8kJ8nNyrF6dFUeUfaiKFNgIv0FipiOvi1e2yFxzKLUL9UVjGUhheZ-FWWGyCThcOnef4S6Q9vEw8Gk3GYPBvUKDOUPA/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448312629491845330" /></a><br />What does it feel like to stare Death on the face, it's there, not quite crossing the line, but biding its time, ready to sink its fangs in you if you dare to make a<br />wrong move? Not a pleasant feeling, take it from me. So, while you circle each other, each of you trying to outwit the other, what goes on in your mind?<br /><br />Me? I think about the what ifs. I think about all the things I should have done and never did. I think about that scholarship at a Berlin University that I let slip off my fingers. I regret not letting Steve take me to Canada 3 years ago. I regret not taking that modeling job in a fashion house in LA when I was 21. I regret not taking that missionary job in Kazakhstan, or the chance to go to school to study Graphics and Website Designing. So many regrets.<br /><br />But this is not the end. Death can stand or walk around as much as it wants. I'm not giving up. I keep asking God to give me some more years and to make my life different from what it was. I want more adventures, more time to grow up spiritually, and I will badger him until He gets fed up with me and say: "Okay, I'm so tired of your whining, here's another 20 years, put it to good use. Now give me some peace and quiet!" LOL<br /><br />You think God has no sense of humour? You are mistaken if you think that. God is not some stiff, unsmiling deity who sends lightnings and thunder if you dare to joke around Him. How do I know that? Because I have experienced His humour many times in my life. Like when someone was stealing Macapuno from our backyard. We always pray to God to protect as from thieves, and we tell Him we do not think of Him as our security guard, rather the All-seeing One and our Protector. So one day, someone<br />climbed up our macapuno tree, and someone gave out a shout to warn us, so we went out fast to catch the thief, and he was still up there. I was able to call the police while he was up there all that time, vigorously denying that he was stealing. We told him to come down and talk like a man, but he just got stuck there unable to come down until the police came and apprehended him. Now, isn't that funny? Everyone was laughing at the thief who had to be rescued by the police like a cat stuck on a<br />tree. Who was keeping him stuck on top of that tree if it was not God? He is a big man, that thief, and the tree was not that high. If he can climb up there, there's no reason why he can't come down.<br /><br />Or that time when it was midnight and I was hungry because I missed dinner. When I checked in the kitchen, I found out there was no bread left, and there's only chocolate chip cookies in a jar. I can't touch that, it's loaded with sugar. So I muttered " God, I need some food, I'm so hungry." A few more minutes and there was a knock , I could hear my eldest brother calling out, he lives next door. I opened my door and called out to my brother. "You are late home", I said. He was holding a paper bag. Food, it has the logo of a popular fast food chain. He had a late business meeting, and he was hungry and bought burger and fries on his way home. Hah! Answered prayer. " Can I have some?" He had eaten up the burger, but not the fries and I'm welcome to have that. I thanked my brother and shut the door and brought the fries to the kitchen. I was grumbling, God, I said I was really hungry, my brother could have eaten the fries and left me the burger. And I could almost hear God saying " I thought you said you were on a diet?"<br /><br />Yes, God is a good God, a sacred God. But Jesus walked the earth. Lived like a man, was a popular guest in both sumptuous and humble gatherings. He understands man's needs for some laughs. But don't think you can try unwholesome jokes with Him. You might just get the lightnings and thunder.<br /><br />So, as I said, I can feel death stalking me. Am I bothered? Nope. Life is good, I am back to my old footing with Jesus, my Brother, my Friend. He walks with me, I tell Him my fears, talk about my many dreams, and badger Him to heal me. I know he laughs at some of the things I tell him, commiserates with my fears and worries. But I can sense the Godship strongly. That Godship is what keeps me going. I know that because<br />after I made my peace with Him, I can feel less pain, I can feel hope burning in my heart, and I feel the peace that passes all understanding. That can only come from God.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-77065176370260068822010-03-13T18:17:00.000-08:002010-03-13T18:24:41.796-08:00Breast Cancer Part 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nT4btlyjME7pEH02iqeO1CusNQgZMl9Jh4JHWCvjie9t5nNRFJfr0J4lpdsM4xJDq4vRGlVe3yxmSqkEz_x0SpdvWOkkPYbxeRviYhyphenhyphenol5PFStgLMrft3iOcneRDDVad0OsXYA/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nT4btlyjME7pEH02iqeO1CusNQgZMl9Jh4JHWCvjie9t5nNRFJfr0J4lpdsM4xJDq4vRGlVe3yxmSqkEz_x0SpdvWOkkPYbxeRviYhyphenhyphenol5PFStgLMrft3iOcneRDDVad0OsXYA/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448309310998486082" /></a><br />I was at the hospital yesterday, it was so tiring getting poked with cold metal and getting your breast sandwiched between 2 hard objects so they can take x-rays of the lump. My breast was bleeding by the time the mammogram/sonogram was over. The lump is getting bigger, it's now 3.8 X 4 X 1.2 cm from 3.6 cm. The sonogram test detected suspicious lumps in the right breast although they are not apparent from just touching and checking. The sonogram showed them though.<br /><br />I still have to pass my cardio test before the doctor will start the chemo therapy. The earliest slot available for my 2D Echo test is on March 18. The Heart Station has a full schedule and can't accommodate me earlier than that. I couldn't insist that I should be moved to an earlier date because of my condition. Who knows, those in the earlier slots could be more seriously sicker than me. Meanwhile, I get well meaning emails from friends suggesting this and that natural treatment with the intention of sparing me the horrors of chemotherapy. I can understand their concern, I am very concerned, too. So while awaiting the final test before the chemo, I am trying some of them.<br /><br />By reaching stage 3, I was told that my survival rate of 5 years has lowered down to less than that. But God gives, and He takes away, so I don't pay attention to all that predictions. God can raise the dead, heal the sick, nothing is impossible with Him. I am keeping my hopes up, but I am also making use of the time in "the wilderness". Right now, I am spiritually alone with God, deprived of my "worldly crutches", totally dependent on Him for survival. At first I was rebellious, I<br />questioned God why He had to let this happen to me when I have tried to live a good life- I was always ready to help those in need, always striving to be morally upright, has served in His church since I was student, was careful not to step on other people's toes, was kind to animals. But God keeps silent.<br /><br />It is in the silence that I have come to look back and hear what my own heart was saying. I have drifted apart from Him. My disillusionment, my frustrations, they have slowly driven me away. But I have justified that in my mind. I have every reason to keep away because people were using the name of God for their own nefarious purposes. My long time friends and church mates have shunned me because I dared to speak up and tell the truth. Then I started to be busy with my own personal life. And I told myself who cares, I still have God in my life even though I'm not<br />in His church anymore.<br /><br />But that is not what He wants. He wants me back in church, where I can grow spiritually, learn patience, learn to forgive. He wants me to retain my individuality, rejoice in it, and make use of it in serving Him. He wants me to experience again the joy of being with His people as they gather together to worship Him.<br /><br />The second week after I have learned I have cancer, my eldest sister dragged me to church. The series they were studying was about the end times. Very fitting, I told myself. The end is near for me. But when the worship team started singing praises, I stood there, remembering the times I was part of the team, remembering how good it is to worship God, the joy of being a part of one great body of believers. And I started crying, cleansing tears, and then I felt that I have come home.<br /><br />Does that solve my problems? Am I healed? Do I have money for my treatment and surgery? No, but it's all in God's hands now. For sure, I am more at peace with myself and my God. When I meditate during my quiet times, I can hear God saying "don't fret my child, I am with you". That reassures me. He will never forsake me. I don't know if He is walking with me towards my recovery, I don't know if He has come to fetch me home and making me ready. All I know is that He is with me and that is<br />enough to make me trust Him to do his best for me.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-55670393146121182692010-03-13T18:13:00.000-08:002010-03-13T18:25:33.778-08:00Breast Cancer Part 4<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HeHXQFK8f-UcpOpfIEaIi9ww24sCSTnV5UEkmmrK0LiVET_nCRYKChvdP1qVmYQlWY1SKyXW03VWTfpeLwDYkboNFRWjBCELfxUhwzShg0DHwnOL7MdbxdSWnbEI2pVhR4ONCg/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HeHXQFK8f-UcpOpfIEaIi9ww24sCSTnV5UEkmmrK0LiVET_nCRYKChvdP1qVmYQlWY1SKyXW03VWTfpeLwDYkboNFRWjBCELfxUhwzShg0DHwnOL7MdbxdSWnbEI2pVhR4ONCg/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448307960081210338" /></a><br />Why am I writing something as morbid as my illness? Some people ask me this, some people have encouraged me to do so. But personally, I am writing my battle with breast cancer because it is not just fight for survival but also a spiritual journey for me.<br /><br />Life is so busy that there are times when you lose track of what's really important in life. We make choices that aren't always right, we try to shuffle our priorities and make mistakes, and we neglect what we shouldn't.Our attention gets caught up in a myriad of non-essentials and we get so bogged down with them we don't notice that other more important things we should be doing are left on the wayside, neglected,<br />forgotten.<br /><br />When I am on my own, I reflect upon all the things I should have done before I got sick. I realized too late I shouldn't have retired from teaching Sunday School, or ministering to the youth. I know I am greatly gifted in that ministry, I should know after doing it since I was 19 and way into the 1990's.But I somehow got tired and withdrawn from it all, burned out and disillusioned with some so-called church leaders.<br /><br />I think about the many times I have been so busy preparing my family's future I have forgotten to sit down with God and talk to Him about how I am doing, or ask for His counsel. I merrily went on my own thinking that I am so good I can handle everything on my own. Steve has to remind me to go to church because I'm so caught up with other things. If I'm not on fast forward running family matters, I'm on full stop pining for Steve or just too dissatisfied about how things are progressing and just wanting to get off from this world.<br /><br />So, cancer has made me slow down,gave me the chance to look around and check what else is going on aside from what I consider my concerns.It has driven me down on my knees before God, gave us the chance to be together and talking again about the most important things in my life. My faith, first and foremost. I have forgotten how peaceful it is to sit and meditate about how good God has been to me over the past years. I remembered the time I was born again when I was still a student. How zealous I was to share the news of salvation. How I was serving Him so diligently. And it was with sorrow that I looked back and realized how I had let some rotten eggs in church who professed to be Christians and behaved like they are not, to cloud my sense of reason. Of course, the enemy will do anything to undermine a Christian's faith even if it means planting his henchmen inside God's very own church. I have let my disillusionment to drive me away from my ministry.<br /><br />I know that God will heal me. I don't feel like I'm dying. What I feel is a process of restoration. I feel like someone who has been sleeping for so long, and now it's time to wake up and pick up where I left off, the right spot, the one assigned<br />by God.<br /><br />I have humbled myself before Him. Thinking that I can accomplish great things on my own is self-pride. Being sick has made me face up the truth, that I am Nothing<br />without God.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-10068479812394137052010-03-13T18:09:00.000-08:002010-03-13T18:26:15.750-08:00Breast Cancer Part 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TjLZn5uW_XK3BWhFgvoZGlU-iTlfHzKzu1eYp4hFwvwTmnQec-t3GXk4x3WXj6ooJtyjdRu8HofbHWm8sVFiktAK8dH7FC8oxco-O17QfQRcXgOdqWXWJM4F6XFgioUjQeNE3g/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TjLZn5uW_XK3BWhFgvoZGlU-iTlfHzKzu1eYp4hFwvwTmnQec-t3GXk4x3WXj6ooJtyjdRu8HofbHWm8sVFiktAK8dH7FC8oxco-O17QfQRcXgOdqWXWJM4F6XFgioUjQeNE3g/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448306687011051890" /></a><br />The last few nights, when everyone was asleep. I would lay on my bed wide awake trying to listen to what God is saying. The previous nights, I have been doing the talking, telling Him about my heartaches, asking Him a lot of questions, and asking Him to see me through this situation and show me His will that I may carry them out.<br /><br />It isn't always easy to have a conversation with God. Sometimes you have so many things to say that you forget to listen to His answers. Other times, the enemy is whispering utter nonsense into your ears and distracts you from what God is trying to say to you. So it's really important to keep your focus so that you won't miss the other half of the conversation, the important part, God's part.<br /><br />God is a wise God, He sees everything that is going on. So in my case, He sometimes comes and visit me in my dreams. Maybe He thinks that it's better to talk to me when I'm unconscious. You may laugh, but for someone like me, who tries to dissect every piece of conversation and find loopholes in every statement, you may want to talk to me, too, when I'm unconscious.:).<br /><br />So last night, I dreamed that I was walking with Jesus on a grassy area, I was like a child, skipping, and running and then turning back to say something to my companion. I was telling Jesus that I have been away for a long time and if He still likes me now that I'm back. He smiled kindly at me, didn't say anything at all, but the warmth in His eyes told me what I wanted to hear.<br /><br />Like any other dream, I was thrown into another scene. I was in bed, wide awake. The dream was a bit hazy, like an old sepia film. I saw myself checking the lump on my breast, and how surprise I was to see the lump like an empty, clear plastic bag, nothing inside, just air. I touched it, felt it, and there really was nothing there, And then I woke up.<br /><br />I know there is a message of hope in those two dreams. God doesn't want to kill me, He wants me to live and enjoy the life of a woman who is totally dependent on Him, a life free of fears and worries, a life that is confident of His everlasting love.<br /><br />I admit I have been distracted with trying to survive the day to day struggle in this fallen world of ours. I get tension headaches just trying to stretch my budget to the limit. I just hate going to the supermarket and watching my wallet emptying fast when I can't even see my shopping bag filling up. I panic when my granddaughter's milk formula runs out after 4 days and my pension isn't in my bank account yet. I get desperate when I don't have enough to buy my mom's medicines because it's imperative that she doesn't miss a single dosage. She is a cancer survivor herself, has a heart condition, her left eye had a lens implant but the other one is almost totally blind. Her other ear is totally deaf. But that's to be expected. After what she went through from colon cancer, and at age 82 now, it's amazing that she is still alive. Another one of God's miracles.<br /><br />So the way I see it, God is trying to tell me something today. In fact, he is telling me so many things. The clearest one is I need to slow down and take things easy. Of course with breast cancer at stage 3, I definitely have to slow down because cancer tires you out a lot. Second, He is telling me that I can get better and live better after recovering from this.Third, He is telling me that there are people who care about me and want to see me live longer. Friends I have known for almost a lifetime, friends I have known as an adult, friends I have met online and haven't seen face to face, but most of all, I have a friend in Jesus. Fourth, God has given me the chance to value my relationships more. Instead of missing conversation pieces because I go into a brown study trying to figure out where to get money for all our needs, I try to listen more attentively, realize that I'm not the only one with problems here, or that I can have a few laughs to lighten my load when I listen to my quick-witted daughter, or my granddaughter trying to learn new words.<br /><br />God wants me to take time to smell the roses. He wants me to enjoy life and not waste it trying to solve world problems. He would be happy to see me trying to work out the problems in just my small community so I can have free time to take walks with Him and have some heart to heart conversations. He had a strange way of making me stop, cancer. But I'm stubborn woman, so He is justified in knocking me down so I will stop and listen. But the funny thing is I'm not offended. God will see me through this and I will emerge from this situation a better woman. And with lessons learned.<br /><br />Good Morning, World! Life is good, live it. God is good, live in Him.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-43295253924965444312010-03-13T17:48:00.000-08:002010-03-13T18:08:50.927-08:00Breast Cancer Part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7S8p4qVGPtZwq-tJZRZO7P0fbws-LIiyMQaLKByxrf56aWSK31AAhhgnnvqEOWYqW26tJctqJtMCywOikQrOaaT5-pG1VO393BwDG1TlAQoxtQkJCypQW_3XTabdYst43utCCoQ/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7S8p4qVGPtZwq-tJZRZO7P0fbws-LIiyMQaLKByxrf56aWSK31AAhhgnnvqEOWYqW26tJctqJtMCywOikQrOaaT5-pG1VO393BwDG1TlAQoxtQkJCypQW_3XTabdYst43utCCoQ/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448301180727189858" /></a><br />I have all my family sleeping in the same bedroom the first night after it was confirmed that I have breast cancer. Stage 3.<br /><br />I lay there with them in the dim room, wide awake, trying to get some sleep after the harrowing day. I finally gave up and got up and walked around where there is some space left on the floor and watched the dear faces in repose. Everyone's asleep except JB and Camille.<br /><br />There's my 82 year old mom on the sofa by the window. She took the news as if it was nothing unusual and sleeping now like a baby. My daughter Jaybee said she's either in a state of denial or she is too old and her mind is no longer able to understand what is going on. Whatever it is, I'm just hoping that her own mind is protecting her from all of these. <br /><br />Cita and her husband lay side by side. Tired out from the trip they took to check out a real estate property somewhere in the mountains with a client.<br /><br />Thess is snoring softly beside Mitch, who missed work today to hover over me when the doctor read the results of my biopsy. Thess is so tired after running my errands, cooking for the family and generally doing ordinary tasks that everyone had forgotten to do. Of all of them, Thess, my eldest sister and my second mom is the one sacrificing a great part of herself to see me through this.<br /><br />Jaybee and Camille each have their Notebooks open and like me, couldn't sleep. The three girls, Mitch,Camille and JB were with me when the doctor called. They were the first ones to cry, the first ones to hear it confirmed that I have breast cancer.<br /><br />Camille has a bad cold, so maybe that is what is keeping her awake. I looked at my daughter Jaybee, the child of my heart. She's doing facebook and I thought she was bearing up well, until I saw her face, eyes red rimmed and swollen from a bout of crying, staring blankly at the screen.<br /><br />And so I sat there, watching everyone, trying to gauge the extent of their pain in hearing the bad news. Some more than the other, I'm sure. Even baby Stephie did not fall asleep until after midnight. And that is after I cuddled her and sang her to sleep. She can't figure out why Mamita won't hold her close anymore, why she can't horseplay with her like she used to.<br /><br />Earlier, Steve and I talked about my condition, we both cried over it. The usually strong man who never allows me to think negative thoughts, nor allows me to buckle under pressure sounded on the edge of desperation. Between the miles from here to Canada, I can sense the bitter taste of despair in his words. He tried to cheer me up, encouraged me to believe that I will survive like all the other women who did, and then ended up saying that I must try to overcome this because he will die if he<br />loses me. He talked about selling the house, he filed for an early retirement, he was making plans left and right that are out of place from the already ironed out plans we have for our future. I had to ask him to slow down and not make hasty decisions we will regret later.<br /><br />Cancer is a horrible disease. It tries to kill not only you, but all the people who love you as well. Not physically, but emotionally. I don't know how we will all face the next few months. I promise myself I will not let anything to sway me from my faith. I don't deserve this, no one does. But anything that happens in this world was allowed by God for a reason. And that reason is for our own profit.<br /><br />I have my family to pray with me. I have friends all over the world praying for me now in their churches. If two or three are gathered together in His name, then God is there in the midst of them. So, there's no reason why God shouldn't hear my request to help me get well for myself and for my family.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-27780262474002345112010-03-13T17:40:00.000-08:002010-03-13T17:48:42.722-08:00Breast Cancer Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfeXbQb8h1QMdT4cIJBj0YGtlzK5INUGNOCtT2JWXjg_lvhgzR92wanEUY6DgIf5leb0ijmqxezDZW4wdjHFe8kewAXGt8dP2EFugUZhnUHs8IpCR7Jy_SKlZPCxyaquXPLq-zA/s1600-h/pink-ribbon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfeXbQb8h1QMdT4cIJBj0YGtlzK5INUGNOCtT2JWXjg_lvhgzR92wanEUY6DgIf5leb0ijmqxezDZW4wdjHFe8kewAXGt8dP2EFugUZhnUHs8IpCR7Jy_SKlZPCxyaquXPLq-zA/s320/pink-ribbon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448299325128229682" /></a><br />My doctor got the result of my core biopsy. I called him today and he gave me the news. It confirmed what I feared the most, It's cancer. There's no easy way of saying it. It's on advance stage, so there's no help for it but chemotherapy, then mastectomy.<br /><br />While the tests were being done, I kept up the hope that it would turn out to be benign, that this is a mistake and the doctor will say what I wanted to hear. But some things just never happen the way you want them to.<br /><br />So once again I asked God, "Why me?" As usual, I don't hear the replies.I cried some more. I cried for me, I cried for the family, I cried for Steve, I cried for the cost of the treatment. I know I still have the rest of my life after the mastectomy. I have the best doctors in Makati Med, but I also know that it's going to put everyone's life in chaos while I'm having my treatment. I'm not going to be able to shoulder the expense on my own, but knowing my family, each one will pitch in to keep me alive. Will they think it's worth it? Have I done the best by them that they will think no price is too high to keep me alive? How about me? Do I think it's worth it to make my family go through the wringer emotionally and financially in my desire to get better?<br /><br />For someone trying to escape death like me, there will always be questions that won't get any clear answers. I have to live each day as they come, hoping that I am making the right choices for everyone concerned.<br /><br />And what about me and God? I want to sit down with him and ask Him to explain why He had let this happen to me. I want to ask him to speak to me in terms I would understand, not in parables, not in poetry or prophecy. Just plain English or Filipino.<br /><br />My niece,Mitch said that a Christian's life is riddled with problems because they refine our faith. She said further that if you claim to be a christian and your life is smooth sailing through and through, you better sit up and ask if you really are a child of God. So what does that make me, my life has been a long series of trials and tribulations, and now this, does that make me His favorite daughter?<br /><br />You think I am now rebelling against God? I am not. I still love Him and rest my life in Him. Whatever He is saying to me right now, I can't hear it. But I know He is beside me, giving me comfort, making me strong. After all this is over, I will see His will clearly and I will be thankful that He didn't let go when I was in my weakest moment.<br /><br />I still have a long way to go - more testing because of my heart condition, chemotherapy, surgery, more testing and then maybe full recovery. Nothing has any guarantee for now. Except God is with me. He is my only guarantee and the only one I need.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-37765957354298247942009-10-25T15:18:00.000-07:002009-10-25T15:30:13.854-07:00DEAR GOD<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsRy_jnoNM2u65WAyvUmZzy3n0AfQ-6VZNw4KF4r0Gb7lkwR7Y9sk0MWWjhdZd_tffGKiekxqFXotYxXd4dikGDONUHA0k1GF9SIuDCfMAbs8YuJ2h7aApTmMS4Xge7vFMHSv8w/s1600-h/Image015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsRy_jnoNM2u65WAyvUmZzy3n0AfQ-6VZNw4KF4r0Gb7lkwR7Y9sk0MWWjhdZd_tffGKiekxqFXotYxXd4dikGDONUHA0k1GF9SIuDCfMAbs8YuJ2h7aApTmMS4Xge7vFMHSv8w/s200/Image015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396667748444888098" border="0" /></a>
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mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">Dear God, I feel so empty, so tired. Sometimes, I ask myself if you are really there watching over us. The recent calamity brought by Typhoon Ondoy has made me ask questions I wouldn't have otherwise asked. Why do we try so much to do good when all it brings is heartache and the seeming inevitable end that is full of pain and destruction? Give me a sign and show me that you are still in control, and everything that is happening does really have a purpose.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ondoy and Pepeng have driven home the fact that life is something that could be snuffed out in the blink of an eye. If many personalities have realized in this destructive event the need to give of themselves and come to the aid of the less fortunate, it has brought such a dreadful sadness and a shattering feeling of inadequacy to my soul. A black, massive hole of nothingness stares me in the face, and it keeps me awake at night with the appalled realization that I have nothing left to give except bitter tears of helplessness. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In all the years that I have believed in you, that I lived my life for you, I have never doubted you.<span style=""> </span>I tried so much to walk your path. But I’m only a flawed vessel, like a jar with too many cracks. No matter how much I tried to fill myself with your goodness and mercy, they sipped through the cracks, leaving me still half empty. <span style=""> </span>Maybe it’s my fault. I have strived too hard for perfection and maybe my failure to achieve it has blindsided me to the real reason why I am here.<span style=""> </span>I no longer know what you want. Confusion has settled in. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You know I have had calamities on a personal level, one after the other.<span style=""> </span>I know that trials and tribulations are part of this life. But now I ask if I wouldn’t have emptied myself if I learned how to take and not just give. If I learned how to say NO more often, if I had learned to love myself more and not gave away all the love I had in my heart. Maybe I should have been more realistic and shouldn’t have allowed disappointments to throw me off balance. <span style=""> </span>So many maybes, so many questions. But the one question that won’t stop nagging me is WHY? </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Why do I feel this emptiness, this sorrow? Are you trying to tell me something?<span style=""> </span>Why am I still here? Why have you allowed certain things to happen?<span style=""> </span>Why can’t you be more specific about what you want from me?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m being impertinent trying to ask you such questions. I know exactly why these things happen. We create our own problems, and we get uptight when the solution eludes us. It’s just so hard to accept that we are killing our own world. It’s just so sad………</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-27158791570392637212009-06-24T18:32:00.000-07:002009-06-24T18:36:24.808-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilGpeoAcpdCX2HNRgj1pqjGhgmtw8njiJeKBY7AGL1LBdlTRYOKNFEzWsEj8hzTfu4pRNyEdbR-rP5CJ5qiwzgV75lnV2ky3iI2dc6ZISIgmpgqbhb4laWn1GLGXsW-yBfgX6Vfw/s1600-h/Image000.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilGpeoAcpdCX2HNRgj1pqjGhgmtw8njiJeKBY7AGL1LBdlTRYOKNFEzWsEj8hzTfu4pRNyEdbR-rP5CJ5qiwzgV75lnV2ky3iI2dc6ZISIgmpgqbhb4laWn1GLGXsW-yBfgX6Vfw/s200/Image000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351072936077884082" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:6;" ><i>Baby</i></span> <span style="font-size:85%;"><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Where did you come from, baby dear?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Out of the everywhere into the here.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Where did you get those eyes so blue?<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Out of the sky as I came through.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Some of the starry spikes left in.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Where did you get that little tear?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">I found it waiting when I got here.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">What makes your forehead so smooth and high?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">A soft hand strok’d it as I went by.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">I saw something better than any one knows.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Whence that three-corner’d smile of bliss?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Three angels gave me at once a kiss.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Where did you get this pearly ear?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">God spoke, and it came out to hear.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Where did you get those arms and hands?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Love made itself into bonds and bands.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">From the same box as the cherubs’ wings.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">How did they all just come to be you?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">God thought about me, and so I grew.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">But how did you come to us, you dear?</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">God thought about you, and so I am here.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;">Written by: George Macdonald </span></p></span>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-60555738777635496042009-02-22T09:55:00.000-08:002009-11-07T13:05:29.646-08:00FAMILY<span class="insertedphoto"><a href="http://pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/photos/hi-res/upload/SaHX6AoKCs4AAGj8GtE1"><img class="alignleft" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/SaHX6AoKCs4AAGj8GtE1/cartoon-kids-in-a-row.jpg?et=gnqi%2BEr3Web%2BF3UZGQYE4Q&nmid=0" border="0"></a></span><font style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" size="3"><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;">Family. What is it? It’s the smallest unit of society. A group of people bound by blood, and sometimes not, who uphold the same belief and principles. They are held together by love, moral obligations and sometimes by the expectations of our society. They are the people that you can sometimes do without, but the same people you can’t do without for the most part.<br><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"></span><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;">You cannot choose your family, but you can choose your friends. I have heard many lamenting that fact. And why not? The family can be a cauldron of intrigue, jealousy, unresolved issues and horrible secrets. Tell me that there is one family you know that doesn’t have a skeleton in the closet, and I will call you a liar. Is there ever a family reunion that won’t rake up old, unresolved issues, or where no one will remember or talk about past mistakes, or where one won’t feel that he is greater or worse than another? Admittedly, the family is the most complicated unit of society, and yet, it is the strongest foundation, too. I am not an expert, but I think the deterioration of the family unit contributes a lot in the deterioration of our society as a whole.</span><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;">I have always treasured my own family. It’s not the best there is, but it’s the only one I’ve got. There are family members I can live with for the rest of my life. But there are others whom I will be satisfied to see only once a year. Maybe they feel that way about me, too. After all, I’m not the perfect sister, aunt, cousin or niece. I can be moody; I can shut up like a clam and be in my own secret world, oblivious to the partying family members around me. Not that I’m autistic, mind.:) It’s just that sometimes, I feel tired of interacting and being careful not to trigger off some past hurt or unresolved issues that might cause anyone pain. But get me on my soapbox, and I can shoot down anyone who contradicts. A family reunion is a minefield. I sometimes think I can only take it in small doses.</span><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;">And yet, when a crisis happens, it is the family that is always there first to help you pick up the pieces. I have been through one a couple of days ago. I was expecting negative repercussions, dreading the remonstrations and the barrage of accusations. Instead, I got commiseration, emotional support and offers of practical help. All of that has helped me to cope better and enclosed me in a protective cocoon of warmth. My family gave me an opportunity to look at the problem in a better light, made me more able to cope with it because of the new and better perspective. </span><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"> I read somewhere that it’s good to have friends instead of family because you can take them or leave them. Because you have chosen them and do not have a history that will get in the way of the relationship. Because you can joke and be lighthearted with them and be with them because you like to and not out of a sense of obligation.<br><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"></span><span style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;">I beg to disagree on a personal level. My family, as I said is not the ideal family. But it’s the one I can count on when everybody else has given up. I sometimes complain that some family members should behave better. I sometimes get to a point when I want to disown them. But in times like this, I thank God for my family. They are there for me when I really need them.</span><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"><br style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;"></font> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-8297584132273029412009-02-19T11:32:00.000-08:002009-11-07T13:07:25.362-08:00The World Is Upside Down<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaT7HBrF4gNfxnvfKbyGl8clsJHDBcq-lTN8xI6snNWz4fHo2Kl5mvZ4LA7lSOIDpRq7_j0HKrRWCgu70k41xR9Zoct-XkbvoU6tZXPcG2o0kCvUHlbG0H2GuWdbNkscVTmin_fA/s1600-h/upside+down+world.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaT7HBrF4gNfxnvfKbyGl8clsJHDBcq-lTN8xI6snNWz4fHo2Kl5mvZ4LA7lSOIDpRq7_j0HKrRWCgu70k41xR9Zoct-XkbvoU6tZXPcG2o0kCvUHlbG0H2GuWdbNkscVTmin_fA/s200/upside+down+world.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304594350590484818" border="0" /></a><br />It’s 2:30am. I have been trying to sleep, but I find my bed so unfriendly, so unwilling to bring me the peace and quiet that only sleep can possibly give me. I don’t know, I was feeling okay earlier, although I had a headache. I took a couple of Excedrin to kill the pain and expected to sleep to complete the process of getting over it. But I lay awake, and as usual, my brain went into overdrive.<br />I thought about how awful this world has become, how hard it is to survive on a day to day basis. I thought about how I hate to see my brothers and sisters getting deeply into debt just to give their families what they need to live with a little dignity. I thought about JB and Mitch, too young to experience such hardships in life. I thought about Steve and me, spending over two years apart, barely surviving the loneliness and pain of the separation. I thought about how scary it is to go out, how stressing to always be on the alert in case the person next to you is a mugger.<br /><br />I am angry about the injustices that I see around me. Angry that so many people have come to disregard the value of human life. I am angry that we have become calloused and no longer horrified about the evil that’s happening around us. It grieves me that the poor are suffering too much that they don’t give a second thought about begging and stealing in order to survive. I break my heart when I hear about the unscrupulous preying on the weaknesses of others to take advantage and to better themselves. I hate hearing the politicians talking about their programs for the poor now that the election is almost here. I hate knowing that after the elections, none of their promises will be kept.<br /><br />Sometimes, I ask myself if the world is upside down. Like nothing seems to be right or normal, so it couldn’t be right side up. Why are the wicked ones prospering, and the righteous suffering? The world is on a straight path to destruction, and there’s no way of stopping it. Why do we try so hard to do good, seeing that it doesn’t make any difference? I get confused about my purpose in life. I get confused about the commandment of loving your enemy. Who is my enemy, the thief, the murderer, the corrupt politician, the adulterer, the liar? Why should I waste my time on those losers when I can do better doing good to my fellow believers, when we can uplift each other and make our sojourn in this world a bit more bearable until it’s time to leave?<br /><br />Maybe the quietness or the darkness of the night is making me lose my perspective. Or making things look bigger than they actually are. Maybe the morning light will push away the depressing images passing through my mind. One thing is sure though. Now is not the time to give up on the faith. I know that if I let go of the principles I believe in, the foundation of what I have become since I was born again, then all is lost for me.<br /><br />Maybe I do not understand at times. Maybe I can’t find a reason for all the things that are happening around us. I have so many questions, but nobody is giving me the right answers, so maybe I am asking the wrong questions. Maybe I am looking at the situation from the wrong angle. Maybe, and then maybe not.<br />I’m going back to bed in a few minutes, whether to think some more, or to finally sleep, remains to be seen. Hey, maybe the light of a new day will give me a better perspective, a more hopeful attitude, and a renewed perseverance to do what is right and honorable despite the current trend. The trick maybe is not to look down, but to look up. Heaven always offers a better view.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-85926563685406940442008-06-22T23:48:00.000-07:002008-06-23T03:48:11.913-07:00Faster PC <span class="insertedphoto"><a href="http://pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/photos/hi-res/upload/SF9@jgoKCs4AAG4lW4U1"><img class="alignleft" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/SF9@jgoKCs4AAG4lW4U1/kit%204.png?et=HJPZH3D%2CmQaNACB%2CNkzR5A&nmid=0" border="0"></a></span>Got a new, faster PC and I love it. <img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/love.png">Just great for my graphics, 2.21 GHZ, 2 gigs of ram, 250 gigs HD, It has a better video card than my last one, too. It supports multi-texturing, pixel buffer, shadow map and aliasing. Rendering is a breeze. At least I think so. It used to take me half an hour to render from my last PC, but it only takes a few minutes now to render something really complicated. I'm very pleased. I have been doing graphics all day. Actually it was a way to keep myself out of my bed because I feel sick. A bad cold and aching bones from all the cleaning and scrubbing after the storm. I didn't want to go to bed because I know that once I get to lie down, I will feel even more sick. So I entertained myself with my graphics, but now I've got a headache to top the cold and aching bones. Bah.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/angry.png"> Flu won't get me this time. I just took a cold tablet and vitamin C, and ate a big apple for lunch. <br><br>Mitch, eat your heart out. My Adobe CS3 loads really fast. My Daz Studio too, even if it has too many runtimes.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/wink.png"> I don't know about POSER yet, I still have to install it. But I'm quite content with taking it easy for now with Daz.But, darn, I really do need my bed, I think.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/sad.png">My head is throbbing and my throat hurts.<br><br> Awww... I need my bed. I don't feel too good. <img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/sad.png"> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-12726056156969434542008-06-08T04:01:00.000-07:002008-06-08T08:01:26.319-07:00EMERGENCY!!! <span class="insertedphoto"><a href="http://pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/photos/hi-res/upload/SEvz8woKCs4AADpdUKM1"><img class="alignleft" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/SEvz8woKCs4AADpdUKM1/06072008024.jpg?et=81t%2BeJTcBdtkY%2BJKgLOs%2BQ&nmid=0" border="0"></a></span><font size="3">We were stuck in the traffic for two hours. It was hot, noisy and the pollution must have hit 10 in a scale of ten. When we got to Waltermart, it was already dark and we zoomed through our shopping and I forgot to buy some really important stuff. JB was so tired and thirsty she walked into one of the fast food shops near the exit to buy a cold drink. That night, we went to bed at almost 12 midnight. I must have only been asleep for 5 minutes when Ma was shaking me awake and telling me with a trembling voice that she found JB on the kitchen floor. I hurried out of my bedroom and saw my girl crumpled in a heap on the floor bawling like a baby. She was throwing up like crazy and she could barely move, her hair sticky from sweat and her small face damp with tears of pain and fear. I thought she was having one of her allergic reactions to some food, like she had an Ice Cream Float, and I thought that might have been the culprit. I gave her Plasil to stop her from throwing up. That seemed to do the trick, or so I thought. She slept for a bit, until 3am, and then woke up retching . I didn't have a car, and I couldn't drive anyway even if I did, so I called my sister to come and help me. We rented a car and JB was brought to the hospital. She was on IV the minute she got admitted. She was almost dehydrated, her lips cracking. She had to go through so many laboratory tests and the doctor said she had a blood infection, caused by some kind of bacteria. More tests were done and her tummy was found to be inflamed. Food poisoning. She was immediately put on antibiotics, her tummy flushed clean of any remaining poisoned food, and finally, we were rest assured by the doctor that she will get better. Right now, she is still taking antibiotics. She is on soft diet and needing a lot of attention. She will be missing school this week, recovering and regaining her strength, but we truly thank God that we have thought to immediately take her to the hospital or everything could have been worse. Food poisoning causes death because more often than not, people don't bring victims to the hospital right away. They try home remedies because of so many reasons. I'm glad JB is getting a lot better, still weak but on the road to recovery. </font><!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-91348484647532225472008-04-14T08:36:00.000-07:002008-04-14T12:36:55.008-07:00SLEEPLESS! AGAIN??? <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"><o:p></o:p>2:08 am. I have been tossing and turning for hours in bed, but sleep is elusive.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/sad.png"> I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I finally got up and stood in front of the open window. For a change, a cool breeze is blowing from the field, caressing my hot face and soothing my spirit. It was dark and peaceful outside. I can see dim lights from my neighbors’ windows spilling into the street. I wonder if everyone is sleeping or if there is someone like me somewhere out there, trying to slip into the blessed oblivion of temporary relief from the hustle of just surviving everyday life. Will they succeed, or just wait for morning to break? Like me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"><o:p></o:p>I have slept okay for weeks now. I’m surprised that the sandman missed me tonight when it’s a lot cooler than the miserable 39 degrees Celsius of blanketing heat that we have endured since the dry spell hit us. I should be comfortable and at peace since I don’t have to fret even in my sleep that the AC will cost me thousands of pesos in electric bill.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"><o:p></o:p>Maybe I’m just tired. Jaybee and I did the wash today. The washing machine broke down and hand-washing the dirty pile of clothes is inevitable. Unless I want to wait until they become a nightmare that will haunt me as I watch them become unmanageable. The big laundry basket is now empty, so that’s a load off my mind. I cleaned the carport, used a brush with a long handle to scrub the concrete floor after the wash was done. Like the klutz I am, I slipped and twisted my knee. I could feel something snapping like garter inside when I walk and a shooting pain from the middle of my leg up to my hip makes it almost impossible to walk. So I got that handy, battery foot massager that Thess bought for me and run it over my leg and around my knee. Something must be out of place, a strained muscle maybe because when I run the massager to just below my knee, a pain like an electric shock shoots up. I then kicked out several times and the last try, I felt multiple snaps, heard them too, and the pain was finally gone. The pins and needles on my foot were gone and my leg felt hot for a while. But I can walk without pain, so am I good or am I good?<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/shade.png"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"><o:p></o:p>Daylight is still far away. But I felt like I need a cup of coffee.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/cup.png"> So I put the kettle on to boil some water and stared out of the big kitchen window. The street is dark, but there’s a post spilling a yellow circle of light to a limited area. The big, 3- storey house across from the vacant lot slumbers quietly like a gothic creature, a round window illuminated by a red light from inside making it look like a malevolent eye, watching and planning to snare an innocent passerby. Maybe a blood-sucker resides there, maybe a mad scientist trying to bring back his dead wife back to life, maybe------ shoots, the whistling kettle made me jump a foot high. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Wingdings;"><span style=""><img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/embarassed.png"></span></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"> That was bad, making up horror stories when it’s so dark and quiet.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/bat.png"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"><o:p></o:p>So what went wrong tonight? Why haven’t I fallen asleep at 11:00 pm as I usually do? Sigh, why do I have to find an explanation for something like not being able to sleep? I’m happy, I’m content, Steve will be home soon and my favorite boy just gave me an invitation to celebrate our birthdays together on Sunday.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/cake.png"><img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/present.png"> Oh, maybe that’s it. Old age creeping in on me and leaving me sleepless. I’m adding another year to my age, but am I worried? Not me. Age is a state of mind, and I don’t have a mind. Ha-ha! Okay, that’s a joke in case you haven’t figured it out.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/tongue.png"><img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/tongue.png"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Princess BTN";"><o:p></o:p>Somehow, another year of my life is gone, but I don’t see it like that. I see it as a period of fulfillment, a year when beautiful memories were built so that I can add them to my treasure chest that is already overflowing.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/rose.png"> God is good. Life is good. Things couldn’t get any better than this, but I have a feeling they will.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/cocktail.png"><img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-91627301246372663502008-04-06T13:41:00.000-07:002009-11-07T13:19:25.842-08:00Me? An Environmentalist?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQS6WoNBHv2lQcBI6qk7DCdN6nGDJ8AObqqs37fh1XHYtKy10M0thc_4h-hh-wkMKisp3FGDts7I8gOzEXbb6zpDU_B1-pJt8zWSOKzGOJ85sFPOiuAengtoex5-ohyOC-8ybXA/s1600-h/globe.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQS6WoNBHv2lQcBI6qk7DCdN6nGDJ8AObqqs37fh1XHYtKy10M0thc_4h-hh-wkMKisp3FGDts7I8gOzEXbb6zpDU_B1-pJt8zWSOKzGOJ85sFPOiuAengtoex5-ohyOC-8ybXA/s200/globe.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401474389407864610" /></a><br />Who me? An environmentalist??? Mental maybe. I'm not going to claim that title. Let us just say I am one of those individual stewards here on a temporary basis. Doing a caretaker's job in my own, personal way. Nothing big or memorable, just humbly doing my best not to worsen the situation.<br /><br />Gaia. I first encountered that word in one of my RPG games. Yes, kids. I still play video games at my ripe p;d age of... never mind.:) Laugh all you want, but I enjoy those games especially the Final Fantasy Series, so there. Gaia , by the way, is the name of the Greek Goddess of the Earth. And the Gaia philosophy speaks about how the nature of living things affect the environment to make it more beneficial to life. It's about the survival of species and how they are necessary for the survival of other species, or that everything in this world, both living and non-living is an interacting system that could be considered as one single organism.<br /><br />I haven't research the philosophy all that much. I think a Doctor Lovelock did an extensive study about this. But based upon what I remember when I first looked up the word when I watched Final Fantasy The Movie, it's all about interrelation between everything on earth.<br /><br />Seeing how people are becoming more concerned about the ecosystem, I suddenly remembered that movie. Their planet was dying, and to restore the balance, the lead characters set off to find answers and were called upon to make sacrifices. Our planet is slowly dying, too. Okay, I said slowly, but I'm not encouraging anyone to take it easy. It has given so much to us for thousands of years. Maybe it's calling us to give something back in return. Like respect and concern for our environment.<br /><br />I'm not so sure about the truth in everything that is called the Gaia Hypothesis, but I do believe that God created the world with a balanced system. A balance that makes it possible for the human race to survive. Hmmm...I remember my daughter asking me all sorts of things when she was growing up. The endless Mommy, why are there... you know, when you have to explain why things exist in the world. Like why are there cats? - well they are there to make sure the rats don't overrun us. The rats will feed on humans if the cats don't kill them. And why are there frogs- so they will eat the flys and mosquitos which gives us malaria and dengue fever. Think about them buzzing everywhere, they would be so thick in the air you won't see where you're going. Aww, as I slipped on a wet spot on the floor. Didn't see that. And there weren't even flies or mosquitoes around. You may laugh at my answers, but try finding answers to endless questions from a two year old when you are doing the wash, making lunch and trying to stop the kid from grabbing everything with her tiny hands while her mouth rattles off a string of why, what and where. All at the same time. Hey, not the words, but my chores, her questions and her lightning speed grabbing. But what I was trying to show her was that everything that God put in this world is here for a purpose. Except the cockroaches. Darn, I can't understand why they are in this world at all. They are so yucky and scary. And think about them being the only ones able to survive a nuclear holocaust. Rather inexplicable.<br /><br />Okay, back to the serious matter. What I'm trying to say here is that we have disturbed the balance that God has set up so carefully. We are depleting the resources, not only resources that are necessary for our existence, but for the existence of other living things necessary for our survival. We have poisoned our world in the name of progress and materialism. Maybe we should take stock of what is happening now, and how the future will be if we don't take heed.<br /><br />For goodness sake, let's leave a better world to our children.Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-8751391613775489492008-02-14T10:42:00.000-08:002008-02-14T18:02:13.527-08:00THE WORLD OF MY IMAGINATION<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJ9RvsL-SZ8MdtCBY2qF8cyqUgBL8KNHhaKYgaBzpf9xsjirfQq3rhV5U67AnIwhUEQG-jWmW4GuTFNZ_r7IUJEsH8hu0Bq2ndWqvaLvQaPMovaaGetdQsGuarQBQyp__fLOdUQ/s1600-h/angel004.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJ9RvsL-SZ8MdtCBY2qF8cyqUgBL8KNHhaKYgaBzpf9xsjirfQq3rhV5U67AnIwhUEQG-jWmW4GuTFNZ_r7IUJEsH8hu0Bq2ndWqvaLvQaPMovaaGetdQsGuarQBQyp__fLOdUQ/s320/angel004.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167021368329217890" border="0" /></a><br /><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">Why is the title of my blog “Midnight Meanderings”? That’s because I usually write my best blog entries and come up with my best ideas around that time. And so I thought the title was really apt.<o:p></o:p></span> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">I have always had trouble sleeping and I remember countless nights that I spent writing, cleaning up the house or watching cable TV when everyone else sleeps. Steve thinks that my sleeping habit is kind of weird. I don’t take afternoon naps and when I finally fall asleep, usually after midnight, I’ll be up again around 4 or 5 am.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">I have been trying to force myself to sleep normally. I mean normal as in 8 hours like most people. It’s an uphill battle. Like my brain has a will of its own- it won’t send “ZZZZZZZZZ” signals to my body at the right time and when I finally sleep, it electrifies me into waking up much too early.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">I remember I was the same as a child. We three girls shared a room, and both Thess and Cita will be dead to the world while I kept awake and gave my imagination free rein in creating colorful and magical stories. We lived in the heart of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Pasig</st1:place></st1:city>, in a commercial area.<span style=""> </span>We occupied a unit in a commercial building, my father’s business was on the ground floor and the living area was on the second floor. <span style=""> </span>It was a busy community. Cars and buses ply the route till the wee hours of the morning. The headlights will reflect on the ceiling of our darkened bedroom and I would watch the play of shadows in all shapes and sizes. And then, my mind starts to weave stories of princesses dancing in a big ballroom, their gowns billowing as they twirled and turned. And when the goblins came and chased the princesses, their shrieks of terror filled the room while the goblins chortled with glee and mischief.<span style=""> </span>My sleepy eyes would then start to close and goes on to dreamland where the story resumes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">I remember that to the left of our unit was a Chinese restaurant and to the right was a medical clinic. I would hear Papa’s employees talking about the Chinese restaurant making siopao out of cats and mice. I would listen to them with rounded eyes while my heart was silently breaking for the poor cats. Never mind the mice, I hate them.<span style=""> </span>And so they continued to say that the doctor thought it would be good business to put a clinic next door to catch all the patients coming out of the restaurant. They would guffaw and slap each other on the back while they talk about those things. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">So the next night, I will make up stories on the ceiling about the mad Chinese chef trapping the cats and throwing them in a boiling cauldron. He will then cook a beautiful dish for the unsuspecting restaurant patrons and they will grow whiskers and will run off screaming from the restaurant with their hands on their aching tummies. I see the doctor with an avid glint in his eyes, ushering them in his clinic to cut off their whiskers and to sell them potions for the tummy ache.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">I thought my story was an account of the truth, until I stopped a customer coming out of the restaurant to ask if he needed a doctor. Tinoy, one of the employees grabbed me and apologized to the man, and then proceeded to lecture me about not listening to the other men telling tall tales. Darn, how was I to know, with my 7 year old mind that grown up men can also make up stories?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">To this day, I would lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all sorts of stuff- serious stuff like building a good future for my family, dreaming about a better life for everyone. The difference is I also listen with one ear if someone is trying to break in through the front door. These are hard times and anything is possible. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;">I could only surmise that my sleeping pattern is as normal as it can be for me. I survived my childhood so I will probably survive now. The culprit is most likely, my overactive imagination. Last time I heard, there is still no cure for it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span lucida="" handwriting="" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);" class="multiply:no_crosspost"></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-58302099096353614722008-02-01T17:48:00.001-08:002008-12-28T03:08:21.435-08:00I'M A FRAUD!<p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"><a href="http://lh3.google.com/darlkey/R6PL7qp9kXI/AAAAAAAAABs/Lc9XNAjiXnI/CatAndMirror%5B3%5D"><img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="CatAndMirror" src="http://lh3.google.com/darlkey/R6PL8qp9kYI/AAAAAAAAAB0/lPUntNOxff4/CatAndMirror_thumb%5B1%5D" align="left" border="0" height="244" width="229" /></a> Sometimes, I look at myself in the mirror and think what a fraud I am. I stand there, looking cool and collected, master of my fate, scared of nothing. A woman in control, that's what it tells me, that lying mirror!</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;">I know it's lying because when I look inside my mind, I see an entirely different image of myself. I see a woman walking around with raw nerves exposed. One tiny word, one innocent action and the nerves cringe in extreme pain.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;">And so I start to imagine myself donning a thicker skin. Maybe something like an armadillo. A thick bony shell that will protect the nerves and keep them from hurting. I see myself walking in that armor, oblivious to everything and anything. Undisturbed, protected.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;">(Sigh.). Some things are not that easy in real life. I have never learned to protect myself. I always leave myself open to things that could hurt like crazy. It is said that you get the worst heartache from the people you love the most. I think so too. It's the worst kind of pain. It's something that could knock your world sideways.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;">The only solution? Don't love anyone. (Sigh.). Some things are just meant to happen. Love is one of them. Love for family, love for your partner, love for your neighbors... And you can't keep love to yourself. You can't really say you have love until you give it away. And it's bound to hurt you at one time or another. And love doesn't even ask if you want it or not. It just happens without a by your leave. </span><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;">The mysteries of life, huh? </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;">Anyone finds a cure for it, let me know. </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"> </span></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-53291322535616603072008-01-27T23:39:00.000-08:002008-01-28T04:43:31.115-08:00The Keys, The Kids <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R53N4woKCs4AAD1ASv41"><img style="width: 244px; height: 183px;" class="alignleft" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/R53N4woKCs4AAD1ASv41/20012008078.jpg?et=xcT2yEZEPvkkn2ooUDI48A&nmid=" border="0"></a></span><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">Mitch and I were chatting this afternoon on YM. <span style=""> </span>It was hot and everything was moving in slow motion. I was glad when Mitch texted me to say she’s online and we can chat like we always do when she gets the chance to get connected. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>I was showing off my new Multiply banner to her. <img style="width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png">The first thing she said was---<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>“Darl! <span style=""> </span>THE KEYS”, that sounds like a movie title.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>“Hey,” I replied, “you think you can make a home movie about my love story?”<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p><span style=""></span>And we went on to think up other titles for the “imaginary movie”. <span style=""> </span>Like The Kissing Keys which seemed totally hilarious. We were giggling so much about the impossibility of the thought -up titles that the audio decided we were sounding totally inane and needed to be cut off. We gave up video chat when Mitch’s Wi-Fi connection became too weak that the video froze and the audio became choppy. We resorted to typing and went on to chat about other stuff, then we discussed her internship resume and she let me read what she had done so far. I was impressed. The girl is smart, but I expected no less. I was teaching her to read and write at age 3. Both she and JB already knew how to read and write even before they started school. <img style="width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>I chatted for a while with 5 year old Raphael and Mitch asked me if we could try the video chat again. Raphael was screaming with glee when he saw me on webcam. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p> </o:p>“Mommy Darling, I can see you, I can see you.” He said how he misses me and wants to see me soon so can I come visit him? It was gratifying to feel soooo missed when we were together all morning and afternoon just the other day. <img style="width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/teeth.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Children have been such a big part of my life. There was my niece Angie, Raphael’s mom, who was only 3 months old when she came to us. I was her little surrogate mother. I fuzzed over her after school, I will rush through my homework and take her everywhere with me on my bike. I stopped hanging out with my friends so I can come home early to spend time with her. I thought her to love books, and supported her through college. And look at her now, a highly successful HR Manager of a big company and earning big bucks. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>There is Mitch. I taught her to sing when she was only 3. I am torn between jumping with pride and having a heart attack when she is performing. Aside from taking after me in her love for books and writing, she has this special talent for singing and she has the voice of an angel that touches the hearts of those who hear her. She is my goddaughter and I’m mighty proud of her. Just another year and she will graduate from college. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Then there’s my adopted daughter Jaybee, a very special girl. Everyone who knows me knows the story of JB’s life and how I came to raise her up as my daughter. She is also in college and is into cooking. She cooks really well, and I admit she didn’t get that from me. :) Steve and I are seeing both girls through college. It’s our dream to see them starting off their adult lives with all the pluses we can possibly give them. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>It’s really a hot afternoon. Thinking about the girls, about Raphael, and thinking about how these kids have brought both joy and pain in my life took my mind off the humidity. The great part of my life spent looking out for them is worth it. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>My greatest reward? The chance to spend the rest of my life with Steve. <img style="width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/love.png">What???? You see no connection????<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p><span style=""></span>Neither do <st1:place w:st="on">I.</st1:place> <img style="width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/tongue.png">I just wanted to say it. <img style="width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/teeth.png"><o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-85984354852829070942008-01-22T17:52:00.000-08:002008-01-22T22:52:45.666-08:00Master Chef In The Making <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R5bkLAoKCs4AABu1M0w1"><img class="alignleft" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/R5bkLAoKCs4AABu1M0w1/cartoon_cutting_onions.jpg?et=GKPFatq0O9kEFaCvSA%2Cqyw&nmid=" border="0"></a></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">I was a novice when it comes to cooking. I know just the very basic like fried eggs, fried chicken, fried fish and other food that just needs to be fried. However, when I met Steve, I knew it was essential that I should learn to cook. He is a great cook and he can come up with amazing dishes even when it’s almost like time to go grocery shopping again. You know--- when the fridge is almost empty, and the cupboard needs restocking. He would check what’s left and he can whip up something from the “stragglers” that is sure to whet the appetite. I would watch him cook, awed at the ingenuity and expertise. He would talk about the different cuts of meat, how long they need to be cooked, what spices go well with what, how he would mix fruits and veggies in the salads. <img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/shade.png"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>It isn’t because I feel less of a woman because I couldn’t cook well and Steve can, or that I think of cooking as a woman’s job. Anyone can cook well whether the person is a man or a woman. It doesn’t matter what the gender as cooking is a skill that anyone can learn and master. I just need to satisfy that hunger in me, no pun intended, </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="">J</span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"> a hunger to learn, a desire to understand the fulfillment and pleasure of turning out great dishes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>I’m telling you, it’s not easy. Many times, I have cooked flops and I had to give the neighbors’ cats and dogs some free meals with the prayer that they won’t suffer from indigestion and ambush me when I dare to step out of my front door.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>It’s a lot of fun though. Especially when I learned that it’s not always good to follow a recipe to the letter. Or that you have to know how to shop well for your ingredients. That the best way to cook is by knowing how to use your own taste buds to determine the outcome of your recipes. A pinch more or less a shake… depends on how you want your dishes to turn out. I have been cooking up a storm in my tiny kitchen since then. Seeing people enjoying their meals, rubbing their stomachs and sighing with satisfaction… well it’s absolutely gratifying, like you have done the world some good. <img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/teeth.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>I’m far from being an expert. But I’m still learning. And I can already cook a mean Steak with Darl’s Special Gravy.: D My daughter says that I can beat the famous gravy of an expensive restaurant here hands down. I can also make Beef Caldereta, Pastel, Sinigang, Asado and so many more. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Is the effort of learning to cook worth it? Yes, it is. The fulfillment it gives me is worth every drop of sweat, the cut on my fingers, the burns and the washing up. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>One thing more I learned. I cook my best dishes when I’m happy. It’s true what people say about cooking --- it’s affected by the state of your emotions. I never cook when I’m angry or upset.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/love.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-42732384135641863932008-01-04T05:39:00.000-08:002008-01-04T10:39:13.891-08:00SLEEPLESS IN CALAMBA! <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">1:59 AM. I have gone to bed twice, only to get up again after tossing and turning and failing to fall asleep. Darn, I have to get up really early because the movers will be here around 8am and I have some final checking to do. Yep, you got it right. I’m moving house.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Maybe I’m overly tired, and that usually keeps me awake instead of knocking me off to oblivion. Or maybe I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, trying to figure out some questions about life that don’t have any answers at all and I’m just too plain foolish to take those thoughts to bed. Maybe it ‘s JB tickling me and telling funny stories before she finally fell asleep that has left me wide awake. Maybe…….<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Too many maybes. I need to sleep so I will be ready for the big move tomorrow. Oooppss. Not so big. I’m just moving a few blocks from here. What’s big is the packing and the unpacking that is the obvious sequel to that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>What am I doing rambling like this at now past 2 in the morning?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Sigh! <span style=""> </span>It wouldn’t have been so bad if I could turn out a piece of exceptionally riveting story to post in my blog. Or if Steve is not at therapy and we can chat for a while. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Maybe I’m really too tired to fall asleep. My body is crying out for a much-needed rest but my brain is clicking away and refusing to shut down. I keep seeing a slide show of the things I have to do tomorrow. And it’s making me more tired than ever. Help!!!!<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/sad.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>The one thing that is making me happy about this move is the bigger kitchen and I get a better view of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:PlaceType w:st="on">Mt.</st1:PlaceType> <st1:PlaceName w:st="on">Makiling</st1:PlaceName></st1:place> when I take walks.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p></o:p>Maybe a glass of warm milk will help. Darn, I have packed everything except a bottle of sparkling water in the fridge. 2:33Am. I should be so lucky to grab a couple of hours sleep. But I’ll try. I will really try. Yeah, who am I kidding? Might as well do some last minute check if the clothes cabinets are really empty. <img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/sad.png"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";">Another darn! I have been sitting here alternately pounding on the keyboard and staring into space when I have to unhinge the kitchen door from the jamb so the movers can get the fridge out. It will never go through if I don’t remove the door. Hon, help!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-64839314999962065362008-01-03T11:30:00.000-08:002009-10-25T14:19:13.679-07:00CELEBRATION<span style="" lucida="" handwriting=""><o:p></o:p>When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait for Christmas to come around, and of course, the New Year, its twin occasion. We always got new clothes and shoes, one set for each event, toys and lots and lots of special food. I have always looked back on that with fond memories. <o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting="">Life is so simple when you are a child. A word is taken at face value, no hidden meanings and no complications.<span style=""> </span>It’s so easy to be happy, and so easy to recover from disappointments.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting="">I’m looking at things much differently now. Yes, life has become so much more complicated. Age has something to do with that I suppose. Attitude, maturity , the need for a more meaningful existence and maybe the influence of the past, too, <span style=""> </span>have all helped in shaping up a new way of looking at things It would have been so much easier to have retained the simplicity of a child<span style=""> </span>and the simple way of coping with life.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting="">Even occasions for celebration have become different. Christmas has become less important than the New Year. The new clothes and festive meals have lost their appeal. When before<span style=""> </span>lechon and morcon were<span style=""> </span>the very essence of the Noche Buena, now they have become a means to unwanted pounds, clogged arteries and all sorts of middle age sickness. New clothes? Nah. Maybe for my nieces, Mitch and JB. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting="">My Christmas and the New Year now means celebrating with my loved ones. A time to gather in the family home, to have quiet moments of just catching up with what the others have been up to for the past year. A time<span style=""> </span>to pray for strength and guidance for another year of battling for survival in this crumbling world.<span style=""> </span>A time to reaffirm the love and affection, to show each other that you will always be there when you are needed.<span style=""> </span>Never mind cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Never mind dressing up in spanking attires enough to shame royalties. Love, loyalty, self-sacrifice, faith. That is what Christmas is all about.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lucida="" handwriting="">It’s too late now to greet all of you a Merry Christmas and too early for next Christmas.<span style=""> </span>But I still wish you all the best for the coming year. Sorry for the cluttered way I wrote this blog. The end of the year has sent me into a binge of introspection and I wrote this entry with no thought for form and style. Don’t go getting a headache trying to figure out where I’m coming from.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/teeth.png" /><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class="multiply:no_crosspost"></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-11335435028984001262007-11-30T15:58:00.000-08:002007-11-30T20:58:43.884-08:00The Man is Back! <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R1DpzwoKCosAAAhhCoE1"><img class="alignleft" src="http://images.darlkey.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/R1DpzwoKCosAAAhhCoE1/4h.gif?et=D7C%2Bi0gcAlB%2C7EweLRqAAg" border="0"></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: BlackJack;">The Man is back.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/teeth.png"> <br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: BlackJack;"><br>For the first time after the accident, Steve and I were able to talk on the phone and chat on YM without tiptoeing.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"> I wasn’t tiptoeing about his condition, afraid to upset him more than necessary. I slipped up now and then, those 4 weeks, but now, I don’t have to think about what to say or worry about him. And as for Steve, he is more open about how he feels, if he is in pain or if he is bored. He is no longer trying so hard to protect me and to stop me from worrying. This is really great. We both know it’s only a matter of time before he is well enough to travel. And that knowledge has released us both from the tension of the last few weeks.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: BlackJack;"><o:p></o:p>Steve’s laugh has a different ring to it now - it sounds happy, optimistic and full of life. It’s one of the many things that I like most about him, his laughter. I can be down in the dumps, absolutely miserable, but when Steve starts clowning around and laughing, he carries me along and anything that has upset me is soon forgotten. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: BlackJack;"><o:p> </o:p>We are also back to talking endlessly about almost every topic under the sun., like about us and our plans, family, politics, personal convictions, - oh, anything that catches our interest. Yup, I’m definitely happier and more hopeful that it won’t be long before Steve is home, his real home which is with me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: BlackJack;">The days seem long, but brighter.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"> Normal and yet special. Welcome back, hon.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/love.png"><br></span></p><br><p class="MsoNormal"></p><br><!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-87712597149778362882007-11-25T15:27:00.000-08:002007-11-25T20:27:17.284-08:00He’s Home! <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><span class="insertedphoto"><img class="alignleft" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/R0pK7AoKCs4AAHLLjeo1/Noname.jpg?et=ZCuNSVsgIUUBMeOW39ApmQ" border="0"></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: BlackJack;">Steve is back in <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Toronto</st1:place></st1:City>. In spite of his condition, he was able to make it back to <st1:City w:st="on">Toronto</st1:City> from <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sudbury</st1:place></st1:City> by bus. BY BUS! The man has an iron will and once he made up his mind to go home, nothing could stop him. He said he was a bit tired after hours on the bus, but otherwise, he feels fine, and is happy about having proper meals and his own bed to sleep in. A few months of therapy and he will be ready to come home. For keeps. I’m not letting him out of my sight once he sets foot in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Philippines</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I had a rough month behind me and I don’t intend to go through worrying like a demented woman ever again. I’m a lot happier now knowing that my husband is home and just healing and waiting until he is strong enough to hop on a plane for home. Thank you for the prayers from so many people. <span style=""> </span>From Friends, Family, and my pastor. <span style=""> </span>In a time of crisis like this, it’s really good to have praying friends rallying to bring the voices of supplication to God’s heavenly throne. Thank you so much.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10572191.post-21478517970686830922007-11-21T17:23:00.000-08:002007-11-21T22:23:02.918-08:00UPDATE ON STEVE <span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R0UfBwoKCs4AAEDT3@41"><center><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R0UfpQoKCs4AAFOOPvI1"><center><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R0Uf2goKCs4AAFfpfxM1"><center><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="/photos/hi-res/upload/R0Uf@AoKCs4AAFeoe641"><center><img class="alignmiddle" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/R0Uf@AoKCs4AAFeoe641/lights04.gif?et=DqGwzv9a5PGp%2BmaxwWJ3hg" border="0"></center><br></a></span></center></a></span></center></a></span></center></a></span><font style="font-family: lucida sans unicode,lucida;" size="3">Steve will probably be discharged from the hospital by the weekend. <img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/smile.png"> That's good news. He still hasn't revealed the true extent of his injuries. He keeps joking and teasing whenever he calls me or when we text each other. He has 3 casts in 3 different places and will be undergoing therapy for a few months, possibly until March. So without saying a word, I know that he was seriously injured. I appreciate the effort he makes to keep me from worrying. That's Steve, always shielding me from the nasty bumps in this world. <br><br>He is bored to death after 3 weeks in the hospital, so I am really happy about the possibility of him being sent home on Saturday. <br><br>Jaybee and I are devastated that he won't be home with us on Christmas day. He wants us to put up the Christmas tree and hang the wreath on our front door. We are going to do that. But it won't be the same. Jaybee and Steve have a very special affinity with each other. Having grown up without a father, and suddenly finding one in Steve who can understand her and give her the loving concern a father has for his daughter,she expects him to be home for special occasions like this. We are both heartbroken, and although we have ceased locking ourselves in the bedroom to have a crying spree, all three of us have not yet fully recovered from Steve's accident.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/cry.png"> Steve has to suffer physically as well as emotionally because we were both counting so much on being together this Christmas season. He would have been home last Saturday.<img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/sad.png"><br><br>Next Christmas will be different. God willing, Steve won't be back in Canada for a while. And he will surely be home next Christmas day...</font><br><br><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="insertedphoto"><a href="http://pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/photos/hi-res/upload/R0UfBwoKCs4AAEDT3@41"><span class="insertedphoto"></span></a><a href="http://pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/photos/hi-res/upload/R0UfpQoKCs4AAFOOPvI1"><span class="insertedphoto"></span></a><a href="http://pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/photos/hi-res/upload/R0Uf2goKCs4AAFfpfxM1"><img class="alignmiddle" src="http://images.pinkdiamond0420.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/300x300/R0Uf2goKCs4AAFfpfxM1/lights04.gif?et=PdCTm0g2T5LPw3bWNfijRg" border="0"></a></span><br></div><br> <!-- multiply:no_crosspost --><p class='multiply:no_crosspost'></p>Darlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06628471674728939263noreply@blogger.com