God Be Praised!

"I am the Alpha and the Omega--the beginning and the end," says the Lord God. "I am the One who is, who always was, and who is still to come, the Almighty One." --Revelation 1:8

 

In 2010 I was wheeled into emergency care three times on different dates due to hypertension. My blood pressure shot up to 160/100 on the first episode while my husband was out of Bahrain. I was given nitroglycerin, baby aspirin, a shot in the arm, fitted onto my chest some electrodes for ECG test, put me on oxygen, and sent me home with 2 weeks of meds 2 hours later when my blood pressure was stabilized.

 

Five days later, I checked myself in to the hospital due to dizzy spells and tension on the chest. My blood pressure registered to a dangerous level of 190/100. I was administered the same procedures, and, thus, saved me from that life-threatening stage. I was sent home stable the same night with new sets of drugs.

 

A few days later I came back to the hospital for some required lab tests. Results revealed that I had blocked arteries that required 6 months treatment of cholesterol-lowering drug (the brand I forgot) along with Concor (beta blocker) 5mg once daily to target two issues: (1)  high blood pressure, and (2) angina pectoris. My doctor said to me that my heart was "tired", and has been working so hard for some time. That, I guess, I can attest to because prior to my first emergency care, I could hear my heart beating outside my shirt even while my body was at rest.

At the back of my mind I knew then my body was telling me something was wrong, and I didn't pay attention to it at all. As a mother and wife, I have set priorities that were (and still are) more important outside of myself, so anything that discomforts me and can inconvenience others does not raise a red flag--and that has always been my nature.

 

The third time I had to be wheeled in back to the hospital was due to dull headaches, cold and numb fingers and toes, and chest tension. The latter was so intense to a level that I thought I was gonna die. My blood pressure was again high at 160/90 despite regular medication. My doctor  increased the dosage of Concor to 10mg--5 mg in the morning, 5 in the evening. He told me, too, that the feeling of "going to die" is one of the symptoms of panic attacks apart from other physical manifestations such as shaking and palpitations. He discussed a prescription drug that can help alleviate  it can potentially cause a patient to be physically or psychologically dependent on it. I refused to take it, simply because I didn't want to go through another horrid process of painstaking recovery after recovery.

But, you know what, I went back to him and asked for the prescription meds. He gave me on limited basis, since the drug can't be issued liberally. He discussed to me that it's important, on the onset of the panic attack, to stop understanding what's going on. He taught me that palpitation is not necessarily contingent to an alarming high blood pressure. And that it can be caused by caffeine or foods I eat. Education and lifestyle change were key.

 

He told me to reduce its severity, I should eliminate stress out of my system slowly or by force--mentally. In other words, I should decide to take my life back, not how but when. And it's solely dependent on me.

 

It was a difficult task to embark on especially at a time when my husband was still mourning the death of his father. It would be impossible for someone to reach out from a black hole of despair. He himself was broken. I will never have understanding of sheer depth of grief losing a parent because mine are still living. Therefore, I allowed him to transition at his own pace.

 

Braving the path to recovery, I have had tremendous ups and downs along the way. It was never easy because I had a little girl to take care of with my limp body. I tried my best to be as attentive and as nurturing to her as I possibly could. Upon seeing my struggles, my husband hired domestic help to take care of the things I couldn't while recovering.

 

Some days were good. Some days weren't as much. The physical side effects of medicines altered my lifestyle, and worse, perspective. I felt weak in almost all areas of my life. I got scared of stepping out of the house or riding the car. Astonishingly, the most intense fear was when the day turned to dusk. It felt like, to me, the sun was not going to shine--ever. Irrational! Totally irrational fears! I would succumb to this useless fear as if there was a deadline to death. I would cry out, "Jesus, Jesus, help me!"

 

One night I heard Joyce Meyer on TV saying, "The One that is in you is greater than he who is in the world." I was stunned. It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on me. The times that I thought I could rely on my own strength was a failure. God is in control!

 

She further quoted Revelation 1:8, "I am (Jesus) the Alpha and the Omega--the beginning and the end," says the Lord God. My heart pounded, not because I was having another panic attack, but because I knew the Lord was speaking to me! It meant so personal. Jesus has the first word and the last word about my health, not my doctor (as wonderful as he is). I searched the bible and discovered verses after verses of God's word telling me not to be afraid. Psalm 27:1, "The LORD is my light and my salvation-- whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life-- of whom shall I be afraid?"; Psalm 118:6, "The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?"

 

Day after day I would write down on pieces of paper other great scriptures that talk about courage, healing and restoration. I would tuck them in my book, put them inside my pocket, paste it on my journal, so I could read them and be reminded of how good the plans of our Lord is to me. I owned each promise to myself. Visualized myself healed and free. The more I read the bible, the closer I get to my healing. Within 2 months, I was totally free from panic attacks. Glory to God!

 

As I was being restored back to health, God has already been blessing me with unlimited opportunities to join and teach in CBSE, British and American curriculum schools in various degree of successes. What a gift!

 

I'm happy to tell the world that my blood pressure has been  stable even before Christmas of 2010, and never fluctuated under any circumstances since. My God is faithful:-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rio

Five days ago we said goodbye to Rio, my 6 year-old daughter's hamster pet. He was only 7 months old. We thought he'd be around longer to love him and play with. 

 

Rio was such a cute Syrian hamster. He was very shy at first when we brought him home, but didn't take long for him to be comfortable with us--especially Alisha. He liked lettuce and carrots, and enjoyed his brown bread with low-fat yogurt once a month. He enjoyed cage clean up time because it allowed him enough ground play. Like any hamster, he's nocturnal, but once up, he'd be very active running around his 3 storey cage. Alternately, he'd be busy constructing his borrow despite the fact that his cage is indestructible; chomp on his cage bars, and vacillate riding his wheel with full rodent might. He was Alisha's bundle of joy.

 

Rio looked flaccid and acted differently earlier that night. He used to greet us with his Jagger move every time we'd visit his cage, but it was amiss. We knew something went awry. A few minutes later my husband declared Rio died of choking.

 

Alisha was shocked and in disbelief initially. She tried to deny Rio's death by doing pranks with me and her father. She called out on her pet a number of times as she would normally do when feeding or playing. She clowned around for a while until it was sleeping time.

 

As I was tucking her in, she told me her heart was broken into tiny, tiny pieces. Her eyes filled up with tears. She loved Rio. He was her friend. She told me how Rio was helpful in exam time or when she's having a bad day. "Rio listened to me all the time, mom." She started sobbing. She was overcome with a great sense of loss. As a mother, I couldn't think of any word that can possibly console her. I just cried with her.

 

The next day Alisha seemed composed, but quiet. Going to the kitchen she couldn't avoid notice the empty cage. She looked at it for a while. Regaining her focus, she went about with breakfast clamped up on the couch. Loneliness was drawn all over her face. It's heartbreaking to watch.

 

Grieving is not exclusive. Some mourn openly, others mourn in private. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, no set time to end it. Most importantly, it is absolutely OK to grieve the loss of a pet.

 

Our lives settled into a normal pattern a couple of days later. We signed up Alisha to a karate class in the hope of keeping her mind off Rio. She's enjoying new set of skills in martial arts and seems happier.

 

Did she forget about Rio? Of course, not. She told me it's impossible to forget her pet, but she has accepted the fact that he's gone. At least this time, she calls this out with ease sans the tears.

 

"Hamster, hamsterrrr...You hungry? Naughty, naughty, Rio. Where are you? There you are!"

The Labeling Game



Photo by Joanne Wellington

"My feeling is that labels are for canned food. I am what I am--and I know what I am."--Michael Stipe

We all know we can't change the past. The irony though is the predilection of people toward it, and their seemingly insatiable feat to throw labels at you the way they remember you years ago. Oh! Their audacity!

 

In an attempt to curtail my apparent tendency to dwell on the affect of opinion of others, I've opted to put the language on paper--in this case, my blog. As the saying goes, pain is inevitable, sufferring is optional.

 

There's a thin line that separates foolishness from naivety, and that to me is a misguided youth. Parents who don't rebuke or lack the initiative to guide their children other than exasperating them for the responsibilities supposedly their own, create rebels in their own home. I was one of those kids--young and parochial, almost apathetic. I had an obdurate impression of life as a young child that poverty was the root of all evil. 70's and 80's were the most turbulent years in the Philippines economically. My parents impressed on me at a young age to work and labor. And that's all I knew growing up.

 

I have relatives who were born to privilege, and I feel there is something sacrilegious about it because it blindsides them of the sufferring of others. Actually, I'm confused whether their wealth or personal hubris made them feel superior. Nonetheless, they were the object of my envy. Poverty was the source of my rebellion, and yet it became the very source of my awakening, too. 

I struggled a lot in my childhood until early adult years. While I finished college for free through scholarship, the daily provision for transport and food were the main problems. Therefore, I did odd jobs to cover living expenses and school projects in college. In my country, one of the ramifications of being born to a poor family could mean denial of education. I didn't want to be a part of the statistics, so I tried very hard to balance work and school at the same time.

I did the unorthodox in a society where norms and values contradict each other. Coming back home past 10pm from school was anomalous to some. They didn't know I had to work from 6am to 3pm prior to that. I was labeled many names. To their dismay, I graduated with honors 6 years later. My life changed drammatically ever since.

The drudgery of my everyday struggles was seen as culpable to many who wanted to put me in a box. I was always criticized. I was deeply hurt, but the most machiavellian response I could afford was plain silence. As young and as callow as I was, how would I know how to frustrate their ill judgement?

The world offers a generous number of shrewd people who finds pleasure in criticizing and labeling people. Thing is, I hardly would have thought that such labeling has the power to wound a person this long a time. I think people label others to cover their own insecurities. As for me, I can't keep on burying them under the sand because the ground will eventually shake underneath me. They all have to go--for good! Even if it means severing ties.








 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And The Winner Is...

I have a disclosure. I'm 41. Should that depress me? 

Today, all arrows point to the vast array of changes happening in me--physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Let's not forget decrease in intellectual capacity too.

I have fine lines on my face which if I pull both sides of my lower cheeks upwards, I look 20 years younger. Only surgical corrective procedure can keep the gravity at bay but I don't have the massive amount of courage to go through it. Let alone financing! 

Grey hair and hair loss go side by side too. I treat the former with hair colorants. In fact, I don't even remember my natural hair color anymore because of constant color treatment. I wish I could say I'm suffering from malnutrition to defend my hair color but I'm obviously well-fed. Over-fed actually! The latter I can't do much--except pray that it doesn't fall more than it did yesterday. While my hypertensive medication has its side effects, I can't blame it solely for those changes.  It's simply nature at active work there. 

As we pass through life, we inevitably face personal and professional crises. Some are born with self-confidence and "life strategies" that make their battle either brief or dragging. I was not born with much. When I was younger, I was a dim-wit and very insecure. Problems that seemed easy to solve, which were generally self-imposed, proved to be exigent because of my inane abilities. Life was very stressful for me. Fast forward to being a middle-aged woman, life seems better. I have more focus and control now though my physical limitations are discernible. Call me wiser. 

Spiritually, it has been a roller-coaster ride. When I was younger, I was the god. I was stronger, sharper, and had so much potential. But then again, more stupid. As I grew older, the vacuum inside me grew bigger and deeper. I searched the wrong places to fill it in. Had friendships with the wrong people to complete the void. The "I" god bitterly failed me. All those time I couldn't hear Jesus calling because my emotions were so high-strung. I finally heeded His call in 2003 when a professor at La Salle invited me to a Sunday service at CCF, St Francis. My life was never the same! It's good to be born again. Call me redeemed. 

Should middle-age be depressing? I think it's a mistake to even think of it. Plain and simple. Life can be good depending on how you look at it. You may have wrinkles, grey hair, increased body fat and can't run as fast, but you can choose to be happy with all those extras. Thank goodness it will take another 10 years before they call me an alpha-boomer--hopefully with at least some decent "wealth" to carry me through old age. Those age ranges, they don't matter really. Age is just a number. 

The 4th Page

My daughter is joining a memory competition this morning at school. This is the second competition she has joined in a week. The first one was clay crafts. It's more like a rebound of some sort when she missed school last week of January due to flu.

Memory competition as she explained to me is the ability to write more words as much as possible, time-pressured, in their correct spelling. Numerics included except the numbers per se. She had a dry run yesterday. Given 4 pages, she's able to fill 3. That's "good enough but can be better" according to her coach. As if this remark resonates in her young mind, it was obvious she wanted to memorize more words. She tried to beef up her memory by remembering mnemonics she learned from class--rhymes, action words, stories, addition, subtraction, etc--all in the hope of "filling" the 4th page. I had to remind her not to overdo it.

This morning as we were walking towards her bus stop, she confessed feeling not confident she could fill the 4th page. I could sense that she's overwhelmed with pressure. She told me she might not win this time. I paused for a while searching for the right words to say. I remember Vince in Grease saying, "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's what you do with your dancin' shoes." I can't tell her that! What about, "it doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game." Neither! She will question both those flimsy answers. Finally, I assured her it doesn't matter if she wins or not, it's how she enjoyed sitting with other kids out of the classroom without the prying eyes of her teacher! Almost instantly, she smiled.  

"The most important motive for work in the school and in life is the pleasure in work..." Albert Einstein said that. My daughter comes home from school and tells me she's nominated to compete in a particular contest. That's great! But never will I insist that she enlist in some competition knowing that she will not have fun.

Movie Watching Club

Halwa, burfi...to begin with! Anitha and I were snacking on these tasty confections in the afternoon while scanning a myriad of channels for movies. We caught a glimpse of Julia Roberts wearing a green saree and thought it's a good movie to kill time. Eat, pray and love. The gargantuan running time proved to be a dismay.

Then came the scene where Javier Bardem was driving a jeep in Bali! Dios mio! Why is this Hispanic guy so good-looking to the point of being delectable?! And wait till you hear his deep gruff voice. Oh si! We totally forgot about Julia towards the end of the movie and got hooked with Javier. Allow me a little Spanish por pabor. Te quiero, Javier, mi amor! Se que estas casado. Hi Penelope!

So back to reality.

I remember him as Anton Chigurh from No Country for Old Men. His character here is so evil that there's no way of comprehending his psyche except that he's hired by his "efficient way" to recover money. In my opinion, this sets the bar so high for credit card collectors. His portrayal is so amazing that won him an Oscar in 2007.

Anyway, we finished EPL gasping and happy without noticing the empty bowls of sweets. Moral of the story: Don't watch a Javier movie side by side confectionery to avoid that extra avoirdupois.

Sleepless in Manama

The conundrum of insomnia has made me guessing since my early 30's. You can do the maths on how many years I've been trying to cope with this sleeping disorder. The problem with insomnia is when you're asleep, you're not really sleeping. And when you're up, you're not really awake.

As much as I would surreptitiously pretend to be not insomniac, it's obvious in the dark circles around my eyes; the lightheadedness; the sluggish feeling almost physically fatigued. Altogether, these make my mind vacuous. Ultimately, cross the whole day--just totally "out of order".

What makes matters worse is when some people would say, "Go get some sleep". If that hadn't been my problem in the first place I wouldn't have been sufferring from sleep loss the past decade! So crassly put by the parochial some!

If science has paved way for shampoos to have special formulation for hair loss, why not for sleep loss? I wonder if science really take insomnia seriously because many of us suffer from this disorder and has never been addressed conclusively.

Tips That Worked and Didn't:

1. Drinking milk before going to bed. It helps me relax and dose off for the next hour only to be awakened by a full gall bladder a couple of hours later. This will never work.
2. Listening to Soft Music. Yanni's neoclassical flavor soothes the mind and drowns the heart. Really helpful in relaxation and helps me think of boring, mushy stuff.
3. Getting a back massage. A gentle back massage especially on the shoulders help ease muscle tension.
4. Sleeping on a firmer bed. This is good for the spine. Eases my back pain. Thus, help me relax.
5. Drinking Iced Tea at night. Not sure how much content of caffeine Nestea iced tea has but it kept me up all night during Ramadan. Never again will I drink one can before going to bed.
6. Walking after dinner. A short walk proves to be helpful.
7. If all else fails, consult a doctor.

I was told I'm a healthy insomniac. Meaning my sleeplessness is directly related to my lifestyle which can bring about stress and anxiety. (Anxiety...probably. Bahrain has been economically unstable since the unrest in February. The fear of losing a job is enough to make one really worry.) I was prescribed over the counter drugs and lifestyle modification which I tried to comply with. Funny how it's categorized as "healthy" when the effects of the same malady are ill and comparatively not effective. Does that make me a chronic insomniac? I'm not sure if I want to laugh or cry at this. Whatever it is, it's a grave state to be sufferring from sleep loss. And I'm not the only one.