I welcomed the air coming out of the tube that was placed just right at the entrance of my nostrils. Just general anesthesia, I was told. I inhaled it like my sanity depended on it.
I hate pain. Despite claiming that I had high tolerance for pain after enduring fraternity rites, I’d still crumble in panic when pain is caused by slicing or anything that involves “going inside.”
A shot of another anesthesia (Demerol I think) through the butterfly cath port was supposed to make me asleep. They were ready to pierce through the spinal with a very large needle for another anesthesia when I said in panic, “I’m still awake!” Through the second shot of Demerol, I was still annoyingly humming. The third shot knocked me dead.
Five hours after, I woke up still feeling kinda woozy and unable to move the lower part of my body.
The procedure was really an easy one, my illness an embarrassing one. As such that I was not used to feeling so helpless and weak, I decided not to announce my current state – just enough to let the important people know that I cannot be at their disposal during that time. I’m supposed to be invincible, unbreakable, but I guess my mortal body just had enough of my pretense.
I’ve always loved being in the lime light. I’ve once complained that I didn’t get the right attention I wanted during my last birthday. But being sick is a different matter. I didn’t want visitors. None from my (extended) family knew that I was in the hospital. My dad alone was privy to my confinement. I insisted on him not telling anyone, but later on I was told that he texted one of my two uncle priests for prayers. My dad chose the one who was in conflict with all of the siblings. It was funny how my dad rationalized to tell the one who was not in speaking terms with everyone just to keep to my instructions. Dads. Secrets are safe with them.
And as such that I’m a crazy kid, I have even crazier friends. It was one of those times I wished they would not feel sweet and investigate where I am. I hadn’t had a decent bath, nor a clean shave, I was simply at my ugliest.
But the fates are quite humorous.
We are each the love of someone else’s life.
Max Tivoli, Andrew Sean Greer.
To be blind of the care that people subtly display has been a trait I’ve mustered just to satisfy my eternal need (and flair lol) for the dramatic.
And as such that I once blogged that I felt not loved during my last birthday, it is but fair that I express my gratitude for drowning in it while I was sick.
The night of my still being paralyzed from the anesthesia, my bros erik and kuya dave came with a funny looking balloon. Two burly guys with a funny balloon – that cracked me up like crazy.
Next day, bset visited from his Boracay trip and we were snickering while carlo was there, sharing a secret. I didn’t want to tell him that I was hospitalized, ruining his beach trip, but he suspiciously asked before coming back home, as if one talkative little bird told him I was in a hospital.
Dam visited in the wee hours of the morn, luckily before my lactulose episodes. Church mates and officemates came during the night (we had to discuss back-ups for work left). D came and went like a hurricane leaving fruits (which at the time were the only ones I was willing and allowed to eat). Dak dropped by embarrassing me more by explaining my illness to Y (haha love yah dak!). Y, on the other hand, endured being the bantay of the most difficult patient there is.
And my last surprise came the next day when I got released from the hospital. Erik kept on stalling me from leaving the hospital early, saying he still has something for me.
Upon meeting Erik, he handed me a package boxed with a courier logo: an overseas package from kups. When I opened it, I saw a tin can filled with packs of my favorite freshly baked dark chocolate with pecan cookie from Famous Amos (my ultimate comfort food). And you don’t get that kind of package from elsewhere, just in Singapore or possibly Malaysia. It felt like Christmas and Kups was my Santa.
I asked Erik how much the customs charged to clear the package, but he just won’t tell. He simply implied that it’s possibly one of the most expensive cookies he has ever seen. Haha.
So there. This post is just to thank everyone who shared their time and effort when I needed it most.
We are each indeed the love of someone else, if not of so many. One just needs to look and see. We really do not need to seek happiness from elsewhere (or seek love from a hopeless place). We simply just need to look inside our homes and within our friends to know that we are indeed loved.
Know this, and maybe you’ll find the happiness that you seek. And maybe even contentment.
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P.S. My birthday’s coming near, I don’t need gifts, but I do need you to collect some school supplies for donation. More details to come in the next few posts. Stay tuned! I may need your help once more in this new project. Zaijian! Till next ish! :)
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Back in the days, it was called a shipboard romance. It only lasted as long as the ship was at sea. 
And as such that I’m a crazy kid, I have even crazier friends. It was one of those times I wished they would not feel sweet and investigate where I am. I hadn’t had a decent bath, nor a clean shave, I was simply at my ugliest. 
The night of my still being paralyzed from the anesthesia, my bros erik and kuya dave came with a funny looking balloon. Two burly guys with a funny balloon – that cracked me up like crazy. 
Upon meeting Erik, he handed me a package boxed with a courier logo: an overseas package from kups. When I opened it, I saw a tin can filled with packs of my favorite freshly baked dark chocolate with pecan cookie from Famous Amos (my ultimate comfort food). And you don’t get that kind of package from elsewhere, just in Singapore or possibly Malaysia. It felt like Christmas and Kups was my Santa. 
