Some good things about hospitals.

I almost forgot that I have a WordPress account! It’s been months since I last posted an entry. Well, for one, no readers missed me as this blog is only read by my cousins and closest friends.Heehee. But I sure missed WordPress!

So for the year 2012, I am writing my very first post which I hope would turn out to be sensible to my loyal readers. Haha.

So here we go. The last entry was in August.Where have I been from September to December 2011? And since we’re already midway in January, where was I in the first two weeks of 2012′s first month? What have I been doing? Where have I been?

Well, guess what, I’ve got an answer.

Hospital. Or better yet, make that hospitals. Yup, you read it right. September,a week after my dad’s birthday, we were in Immaculate. We then travelled 12 hours in 22 September to East Ave. A few days after, they (as I needed to go back to the island for work) were in posh St. Luke’s Global City.(Thanks to the tower builders):)

God was good that he allowed us to spend Christmas and New Years together. He went home on 5th December, looking good and feeling better.

The holidays came and went and we thought everything’s fine. But on Wednesday, 11th January, dad was very weak and he choked twice. We brought him to good ol’ EBMC where,luckily, a good internist took care of him and, with a seemingly endless IV pushes, nursed him back to health in a week’s time.

Today I look at my dad remembering how grim his face was on that Wednesday afternoon, recalling how his hands trembled and how incomprehensible his words were while we helped him to the car. It’s all gone. What I have now is 53-year old man, enjoying “Beyond Borders” on HBO and asking me if I’d want to be posted in Cambodia.

I used to be fearful of hospitals. That huge building that forever smells of alcohol and drugs and whose corridors, usually lined with three-color trash cans, scream of mystery and horror. But I came to embrace it as a place of refuge for my ailing father–be it the decrepit rooms of public hospitals or the hotel-like ones in St.Lukes.I have learned to “love” it because it is in here where his body regains its strength and his mind finds peace.

So there,for some five months, our lives revolved around hospitals.
Not really a very pleasant experience but this “hospital series” as I call it was more than just getting well and getting healed.

It was also about being patient and learning to appreciate the littlest of things.

*The first time he peed without a catheter, got up on his own, slept soundly after days of restlessness, ate and drank without the scary swallowing sound. Witnessing all these was like seeing a baby’s milestone. It was pure joy. Even up to this day, I find myself murmuring thanks for the little triumphs of everyday.

…about keeping your faith and believing.

*I have never prayed so hard.And it was truly amazing how He make things happen.But the most touching moment in this experience would probably be the time when dad was so restless and I asked him to recite his favorite prayer with me. It was like a lullaby that calmed him and put him to sleep in no time.

…about family.

*If I think about how my brothers who are left in Baga survive each time mom and dad leave them, I hyperventilate. When I remember how we panicked when it’s time to pay the bill, I want to faint. I cry when I think of the school plays and events we missed because dad is in the hospital.But somehow, it all passed. We’ve survived because of aunts, uncles, cousins, etc who shared our burden.;)

…about old friends and reaping what you have sown.

*His last hospital “visit” was a winner, I would say. Imagine getting admitted in a health facility where you know everyone–from the utility guy to the nurses and doctors, the billing clerk and the administrator!

*From the ER,word spread that Clody’s in the house. Former colleagues then trooped to his room and what a reunion it was!One afternoon, there was a soft knock on the door. When I opened it, there was the province’s former health chief bringing dad some oranges.:)

*The billing clerk looked at me in disbelief when she saw the name of my patient.Then she left her post, talked to the hospital admin and I suddenly saw a swarm of uniformed hospital personnel going up to my father’s room. They gave us a discount, too. Gee, thanks.

*One morning, an IW(institutional worker, mom said that’s how they’re called) was cleaning the windows of my dad’s hospital room. Suddenly, my dad called out the guy’s name. High fives and lotsa stories filled the morning.

*A guy wheeling him out to the xray room could not believe that my dad remembers his name. On the way out of the hospital, another guy saw Papa, embraced him then helped him to the car.

On our way home to Baga, dad was teary-eyed. It has been twelve years since that fateful October afternoon. But the warmth and love of the people he used to work with has never faded.

Told him, “You must have done something good.” He answered, “I do not know.Maybe.”:)

P.S.
Yesterday, we went to his friend, an ophthalmologist for a check-up. Again, it was a beautiful reunion.Tio Lito was ecstatic that he hugged my dad like a kid and even asked him to come up for some coffee.He prescribed two types of eyeglasses. The first pair, we got for free.:)

Indeed, our favorite guy must have done something good.:)

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