At 61, she should retire, and focus her attention to the concerns of home. But passion runs through her veins, and despite our desire to let her slow down, to do so will weaken her reason to live.
So we let her teach, and take loads of extra subjects in school. To be surrounded by students is her life. As long as her passion will not wilt her, mother may have her way.
But we were wrong. The stress that she takes from work and from other things that does not involve familial concerns had become too much for her body and mind to bear. It resulted to different afflictions of the spirit wearing her body gradually.
This is the cause of her sickness.
I woke up at past 1 today to take advantage of my day off. The sun was up, my room was intensely hot and dried saliva had already left a white patch on my pillow. The moment I got out of bed, my first act was to check my mom who I found lying on her bed. She had just taken a bath and was preparing for the visit to the doctor. Her slow arm movement and sagging face showed her fatigue. It's been three days since she had a decent meal and the thought of hospital had only made her feel uneasy. Check-up was at 3 pm and after receiving some nagging from her, (for getting up late) I went down to eat lunch and take a bath so I can accompany her to the doctor.
In the cold, dimly lit corridor of the Manila Doctor's Medical Arts Building, we waited for her name to be called. The receptionist at the consultant's office was a butch lesbian. She wore a brown polo and a blue jeans, which made her appear more of a bodyguard than a doctor's secretary. Despite her brute appearance, she seemed accommodating. However, her resolve to put rules ahead of compassion made her look stiff and bare - like the four-walled office of the Gastroenterologists.
Mother felt uneasy despite my half-brother's presence. I tagged him along so that when she asks me to buy her needs elsewhere, someone would stay behind. While buying her Gatorade from 7-Eleven a block away from the building, she texted me constantly.
"Anak bilisan mo. D2 na dr. At saka prng su2ka ako." I was still smoking downstairs.
"Anak png 2 n psyente sa loob." Don't worry ma, you can count from one to ten and I'd be there before you say eleven.
Truth is, I never felt my mom so vulnerable. She wanted me near, no matter how I comforted her with folk music playing from my Ipod player that I let her use while I was away.
Finally her name was called and the doctor instructed her to come in. Interview was done to find out the cause of her problem.
"Masakit ba ang tiyan mo?" The doctor asked, as he reclined from his chair. Smiling.
"Medyo doc. Feeling bloated po siya."
The interview went on. At first, mother's story proved too confusing for the doctor to comprehend. Who can blame her, she's simply worried about her condition. However, the doctor's assuring words (and his ability to piece a story together) made my mom more comfortable. In the end, the confusing story gave way to a question and answer portion between the sick and the healer.
"Ilang gamot ang iniinom mo?"
"Mga pito po." Mother stated all her medicines - for her heart, diabetes, arthritis and even the food supplements that she takes everyday. She even took the piles of drug prescription from her bag to convince the doctor that what she's telling is believable.
The interview took around 30 minutes to finish. There was a medical assistant - a resident from one of the doctor's classes who listed down all my mother's complaints as she sat beside the doctor. Before the doctor declared his verdict, Mom was asked to lie down on the couch to check for her blood pressure, while the doctor continued to ask questions which are now directed to me.
[Thank you Doc Magsasaka for the information about the career background of my Mom's doctor. It was an icebreaker.]
"Based from my physical findings, there are several possible causes of your stomach problem madam," the doctor concluded. His verdict gave hints that my mom's condition should not be a cause of alarm. .
"Everything seemed normal and since you complained of other pains that are not connected to your stomach, it appeared that your affliction is stress-related." The moment I heard the words 'stress-related,' a breathe of relief comes off my chest. Meanwhile, my mother's reaction to the pronouncements bordered on puzzlement. She cannot understand why everything appeared normal, when she had always thought that her condition is very serious.
It turned out that the culprit to her constant vomiting was acid gas produced by her stomach. She has always been pestered by hyper acidity ever since we remember. Though the doctor did not cross out the possibility of other, more serious causes, we decided that it would be best to observe my mother's condition for a week before invasive examinations be performed on her body.
On our way home, she admitted that the doctor might be right about one thing. Her stomach problem might probably be related to the stress she's getting from our family business. You see, my dad was heavily indebted when he died. Years after his passing, some of those he owed money still hounds us by casting their eyes on our Sikyu business.
The Sikyu is what keeps our house afloat and to lose this source of income is my mother's biggest nightmare.
"Don't worry Ma. If the business gets into trouble, I wouldn't mind having a second job to keep us afloat." I assured her. It was the same reason when I decided to seek employment elsewhere. I could not afford relying on our family business since its long term survival remains in question.
We arrived home relieved that the check-up didn't end up in a hospital confinement. Thick rain clouds hovered above us, the neighbors were taking down their laundry from the sampayans and the house pets - the dog and the cat showed up near the door to greet my mom's return. Mother remained visibly weak, but no doubt, she was satisfied that everything ended well for all of us.
As the dust of uncertainty somehow settles, my mother's condition remains under close observation.
It is the same uncertainty that drove me back to my hidden sanctuary in Katipunan.
the Santa Clara.
---
"Sa piling ng mga puno, ang ulan ay nagbibigay buhay sa mga uhaw na puso."
- Mugen to Wanderer
So we let her teach, and take loads of extra subjects in school. To be surrounded by students is her life. As long as her passion will not wilt her, mother may have her way.
But we were wrong. The stress that she takes from work and from other things that does not involve familial concerns had become too much for her body and mind to bear. It resulted to different afflictions of the spirit wearing her body gradually.
This is the cause of her sickness.
I woke up at past 1 today to take advantage of my day off. The sun was up, my room was intensely hot and dried saliva had already left a white patch on my pillow. The moment I got out of bed, my first act was to check my mom who I found lying on her bed. She had just taken a bath and was preparing for the visit to the doctor. Her slow arm movement and sagging face showed her fatigue. It's been three days since she had a decent meal and the thought of hospital had only made her feel uneasy. Check-up was at 3 pm and after receiving some nagging from her, (for getting up late) I went down to eat lunch and take a bath so I can accompany her to the doctor.
In the cold, dimly lit corridor of the Manila Doctor's Medical Arts Building, we waited for her name to be called. The receptionist at the consultant's office was a butch lesbian. She wore a brown polo and a blue jeans, which made her appear more of a bodyguard than a doctor's secretary. Despite her brute appearance, she seemed accommodating. However, her resolve to put rules ahead of compassion made her look stiff and bare - like the four-walled office of the Gastroenterologists.
Mother felt uneasy despite my half-brother's presence. I tagged him along so that when she asks me to buy her needs elsewhere, someone would stay behind. While buying her Gatorade from 7-Eleven a block away from the building, she texted me constantly.
"Anak bilisan mo. D2 na dr. At saka prng su2ka ako." I was still smoking downstairs.
"Anak png 2 n psyente sa loob." Don't worry ma, you can count from one to ten and I'd be there before you say eleven.
Truth is, I never felt my mom so vulnerable. She wanted me near, no matter how I comforted her with folk music playing from my Ipod player that I let her use while I was away.
Finally her name was called and the doctor instructed her to come in. Interview was done to find out the cause of her problem.
"Masakit ba ang tiyan mo?" The doctor asked, as he reclined from his chair. Smiling.
"Medyo doc. Feeling bloated po siya."
The interview went on. At first, mother's story proved too confusing for the doctor to comprehend. Who can blame her, she's simply worried about her condition. However, the doctor's assuring words (and his ability to piece a story together) made my mom more comfortable. In the end, the confusing story gave way to a question and answer portion between the sick and the healer.
"Ilang gamot ang iniinom mo?"
"Mga pito po." Mother stated all her medicines - for her heart, diabetes, arthritis and even the food supplements that she takes everyday. She even took the piles of drug prescription from her bag to convince the doctor that what she's telling is believable.
The interview took around 30 minutes to finish. There was a medical assistant - a resident from one of the doctor's classes who listed down all my mother's complaints as she sat beside the doctor. Before the doctor declared his verdict, Mom was asked to lie down on the couch to check for her blood pressure, while the doctor continued to ask questions which are now directed to me.
[Thank you Doc Magsasaka for the information about the career background of my Mom's doctor. It was an icebreaker.]
"Based from my physical findings, there are several possible causes of your stomach problem madam," the doctor concluded. His verdict gave hints that my mom's condition should not be a cause of alarm. .
"Everything seemed normal and since you complained of other pains that are not connected to your stomach, it appeared that your affliction is stress-related." The moment I heard the words 'stress-related,' a breathe of relief comes off my chest. Meanwhile, my mother's reaction to the pronouncements bordered on puzzlement. She cannot understand why everything appeared normal, when she had always thought that her condition is very serious.
It turned out that the culprit to her constant vomiting was acid gas produced by her stomach. She has always been pestered by hyper acidity ever since we remember. Though the doctor did not cross out the possibility of other, more serious causes, we decided that it would be best to observe my mother's condition for a week before invasive examinations be performed on her body.
On our way home, she admitted that the doctor might be right about one thing. Her stomach problem might probably be related to the stress she's getting from our family business. You see, my dad was heavily indebted when he died. Years after his passing, some of those he owed money still hounds us by casting their eyes on our Sikyu business.
The Sikyu is what keeps our house afloat and to lose this source of income is my mother's biggest nightmare.
"Don't worry Ma. If the business gets into trouble, I wouldn't mind having a second job to keep us afloat." I assured her. It was the same reason when I decided to seek employment elsewhere. I could not afford relying on our family business since its long term survival remains in question.
We arrived home relieved that the check-up didn't end up in a hospital confinement. Thick rain clouds hovered above us, the neighbors were taking down their laundry from the sampayans and the house pets - the dog and the cat showed up near the door to greet my mom's return. Mother remained visibly weak, but no doubt, she was satisfied that everything ended well for all of us.
As the dust of uncertainty somehow settles, my mother's condition remains under close observation.
It is the same uncertainty that drove me back to my hidden sanctuary in Katipunan.
the Santa Clara.
---
"Sa piling ng mga puno, ang ulan ay nagbibigay buhay sa mga uhaw na puso."
- Mugen to Wanderer
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