In a couple of minutes, my Dad will turn 81, a some sort of a bonus really, given the norm of longevity nowadays, and for good measure even, if one considers the fact that just over two months ago, he found himself in a serious scare. I remember writing a blog last year in time for his 80th -- one that spoke of The P in Pride--- which essentially limned several sketches of his life. I said then that, and I repeat it now, my Dad is one-of-a-kind in many respects: has a grey matter that is both adept in the creative and technical, works like a horse around the house doing plumbing, electricity, carpentry and tinkering with his old but reliable tribike, has a treasure-trove of vocabulary and of course, he used to drink GSM or Tanduay straight up from the bottle and then pretend that hes sober. Unusual perhaps but we embraced everything about him, not because he is our father, but because we are his children. Children are supposed to serve their parents. And so we do that now --- out of love and not by compulsion --- most especially that our parents are now octogenarians. Two months ago, however, he nearly left us - a day after my 42nd birthday. I was already dressed up to take my early trip back to Manila. In a minute or two, perhaps, I could have already been out of the house. In fact, going through the timeline, I was supposed to be in Manila already had it not been for some back pain that lulled me to sleep. Looking back, however, it could have also meant that in a minute or so that morning, my Dad could have gone ahead. I saw him taking baby steps, which was quite unusual because I knew him to walk sprightly even with his occasional bouts with rheumatism -- the first red flag. Alerted and already anxious, I asked him how he was feeling, to which the only response he gave was a dazed and disoriented look -- another red flag. Then the other symptoms came in one after the other: clammy hands, slurred speech and blood pressure at treacherous levels. The inevitable conclusion: Papa was in the middle of a stroke --- and we better do something fast. By Gods grace, everybody in the house knew exactly what to do, and it also mattered that help was readily available; so much so that within 2 hours from the time that I saw him in a groggy state, he was already being CT-scanned. And my brother in the US was already on the phone by the time our father was being wheeled out of the ER for transfer to the ICU. The next 3 days at the ICU were the most difficult. As my thoughts race back to those anxious times, I remember how fleeting and freezing those moments were -- you hold back on many things: sense of fear, tears, doubts. I sensed how my Mom, my sister and even my brother in the States, were all trying to put up a brave front. It was a way of coping, of dealing, of responding, when mortality stares at you or your loved one. And the moment one blinks, one is drawn to darkness, picks up the worst imaginings, sheds a tear and gives in to despair. But in the end, one leans in faith and trust in the Lord because of His Divine Mercy. Today, Papa is a living proof that God is the greatest Healer. Papa has defied the odds of recovering at his age and from the debilitating effects of stroke. His cardiologist and neurologist are, in fact, amazed at how he has progressed and recovered in so short a time. Papa celebrates his 81st and his first one on his new lease on life. We love you Lolo Pert!!! And we give back all the glory to the Lord!!!
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 17:06:23 +0000
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