Solitary Hospital Chair

From the solitary hospital chair pushed to the wall's edge facing the window I see more about life. I see how the passing of time has aged my parents and how different it is now that they are growing old. Taking care of my dad at 61 makes me realize the significance of how he took care of me when I was born. Covering him underneath the blanket to keep him warm. Bringing him to the bathroom to urinate. Combing his hair so he looks fresh. Feeding him his meals so he doesn't go hungry. Giving him a glass of water so his mouth doesn't go too dry.

From this solitary hospital chair I see my mom's nurturing character which I have never seen before. I see her teaching me and my sister how to help my dad with every little thing. I see her withstand many nights of interrupted sleep. I see her patiently carrying my dad's weight on her shoulders so he can walk himself to bathroom.

From the solitary hospital chair, I see how God's is unfolding and unraveling. I see how He transforming and healing. I see how life is reconstructed and renewed. Somehow in a seeming backward motion. Like life is played in reverse. Where the father becomes the one provided for instead of the provider. Where the wife becomes the head instead of the follower. Where the children become the nurturers instead of the ones nurtured.

From the solitary hospital chair I sit the day away trying to absorb the flow of thoughts regardless of the many visitors that come in from nurses to doctors to family and friends. I try to absorb everything so I will never forget. Never forget. Never forget.

An uncle and his wife around just now and jolt the quiet a little bit. Engaging my sluggish father into a conversation of what seems to be his purpose in life -- fixing problems. How timely that I realize this now when I just told him this morning that it seems that I find myself in situations always filling gaps and fixing messes of people who walk before me. My dad in full authority and wisdom said, "That is your purpose in life." I don't know whether I should laugh or cry. But I suppose I just have to laugh this off right now and enjoy how amusing it is that my dad can still muster such fortitude from his hospital bed.

He is clearly restless. His feet stretches back and forth like it's skating over the surface of the bed. He is not one who is used to being sick this long. I hope he finds more meaning in his life though. These moments should give him room for introspection. I am curious about what passes through his mind. I hope my dad was a writer. He'd probably fill in numerous stacks of journals with all the things he's learned. I wish the same for my mom. It would probably have made me feel a little bit better growing up with all these struggles if I knew my parents went through the same thing.

From this solitary hospital chair I've heard so many conversations and watched so many expressions and I realize how important again and again life becomes when you view it backwards.

Now if I can only live it forward without losing the wisdom from introspection.

Somber Sightings

Somber mood finds me this morning. I had to get out of the hospital room for a bit and walk out to Gloria Jeans. Starbucks was too far away. My chat with Adi this morning left me thinking about so many things. Past. Present. Future. It left me with the very melancholy conclusion that LIFE IS DIFFICULT. What brings comfort is that I do not have to go through it alone.

I went to the hospital early this morning because my mom needed help with my dad. The caregiver we hired to assist us couldn’t come in today because she had to go home to celebrate their barrio's feast. I parked just outside the pay parking area because it was still closed. We parked at the same spot yesterday too. I got drawn to this little girl lying down on a bicycle cart. Her hair was messy and she was covered with ash and dirt. I wonder what kind of life she must have waking up to a morning without a soft bed underneath.

little girl

I ran past some children riding a truck. Their laughter and noise caught my attention while walking back to the hospital. I wondered where they came from and why they rode a truck instead of a bus.

truck kids

It’s raining today. And I welcome it gladly because it soothes me again and resonates with my somber mood. I laid my large cup of Gloria Jeans Caramel Latte by the window to listen to my dad share to me some of the best practices they have at work. He eagerly showed me presentations that he found useful and gave me advise on what to implement in my new job.

gloria jeans

One of the things I thought about during the darkest moments of this experience was how my Dad always gave me advise about work. And how I would miss that when that stops. So here I am trying to make the most out of this second chance. Hopefully filling in the gaps that were created through the years of our relationship.

I noticed an eager exchange between my Dad and I. My mom would jump in once in a while and we had a healthy exchange of ideas like grown ups would. I felt at ease. I felt walls crumbling down. I felt my parents’ respect for me.

Second chances are indeed refreshing. I suppose it really is a blessing to have gone through this and overcome it. I am filled with an even deeper gratitude for the Giver of Life after having experienced my a series of little deaths.

Jollibee Walk

The walk to Jollibee today was a quiet one. My sister has left for Manila. Despite the sudden outburst of creativity early this morning, I still remain cluttered. Mildly irritated with mother's display of panic. I realized how panic is so contagious. Anybody weak of heart will surely get disturbed with even a wift of it.

Unfortunately I am one of those weaklings. I can barely stand a wave of being swept into somebody else's panic yet ironically i=I always find myself hovering in these situations.

Why am I surrounded with really high strung people? Obviously birds of the same feather flock together, so I know I'm one too. But is there any chance of liberating myself from this? I'm not so sure.

I'm standing at one corner of this tiny Jollibee branch located in Osmena boulevard waiting for 10 minutes to pass till my tuna pie orders become ready. Ahhh here they are. Now to fill my hungry tummy.

Writing Like Hemingway

So I'm talking to Adi and she's trying to tell me that I can write like Hemingway. Hemingway. Hmm. I've always wanted to try imagining myself writing in the middle of a busy street waiting for a cab. Or...perhaps somewhere in the middle of a crowded Starbucks scribbling down my Moleskine quite absorbed in my thoughts. But that never gets to happen. I don't know why I want to be able to get self-absorbed like that in the midst of vibrant life. I suppose it's my way of trying to exist while breathing everything in. Not the usual way I get so paralyzed in the middle of a circumstance that attempts to change or shatter. Move. Inspire. Liberate.

She just went offline and my muscles are a bit sore. Helping my Dad do a little shindig of a workout on his bed gave me quite a workout too! I bought 2 Nike yellow resistant bands for my Dad a few days ago so that he can stretch a bit since he's been bedridden for more than a week now. He finally decided to use it. I find it funny how my Dad gets all excited about new activities like that. It's amusing to me for a 61 year old to get giddy about little things.

Now he's off to snooze. His snore gurgling to escape his open mouth. At times I get nervous listening to him snore when we're here in the hospital because it feels like it'll never end. But there are times when I find it funny too because his lips twitch uncontrollably until the snore comes out to a full sigh.

One of the days I was left alone to watch him, I saw his whole body twitch. It gave me quite a scare because his health wasn't so stable then. I never thought my Dad was such a lucid sleeper. So I tried to nudge him and ask him what was going on. He groggily woke up and said, "I was dreaming that I'm riding a train and was chugging along with it." He fell back to sleep and true enough his body was chugging along again.

I had to stifle a laugh because I didn't think it appropriate for me to let out a guffaw in this situation. My Dad's such a character. I love him. He's starting to be annoying when he's restless but as I said yesterday, it's definitely much better having him that way than how he was a week ago.

So yes Slick, you're right. I think I can start writing like Hemingway.