Sunday, November 16, 2008

Holyfookin' shoes.

iTunes busy playing: Gravity by John Mayer

Tonight, I bury all the feelings that I have for you.

The thoughts I have whenever I get lost in your smile while you animatedly talk to me.

The stupid remarks that slip out of my mouth while trying to come up with a sly move to smoothen the conversation.

I'm gonna forget about wanting you from afar - the only closest distance I ever got to pleading that you even notice me.

I'm gonna let go of all the frustrations that come from the mixed signals that you gave (and you forced me to take) to the simple gestures I desperately wanted to cling to, in hopes of taking things further. A deepening that I longed to have with you the moment you came up to me and decided to

ruin my life

forever.

It just hurts that I have this familiar feeling once again. Of deliberately coercing myself to let go,

because

I'm wanting someone I can never have. I couldn't admit for the longest time that I even liked you

that much.

It's been a long and tedious 4 months and I never thought this game would even last that long.

Thanks for making me feel that something within reach could be impossibly beyond someone's grasp.

I know it's stupid to hear myself sob at the thought of you when you don't deserve any of this.

I don't know why I feel like this, but it's so much worse than I expected.

So tonight, as I cry all these out, I hope that I would (as I always have) allow time to heal these scars again

to take the pain away.

Of gathering sparse hope for my scathed being.

I know this is too much for someone I don't love.

But trust me, I really wanted to.

You just never gave me the chance. With that, you even hurt me by showing me how cruel this world can be.

Not having what you wanted.

Not even a part of it. Not even for a short time for you to believe that there is still such a feeling.


Sunday, November 09, 2008

Life and Death.

It's been 10 hours and I've seen 2 people die by far. My lola, dad, mom, cousin and I are still here sitting, waiting for an ambulance to come and fetch my lolo.

My lolo who's been shaking cold for the past 8 hours, merely sustained my dextrose, oxygen and whatever life support that he had beside his elaborately uncomfortable stretcher. The only thing that supported his head was my purple star pillow; the one I got 5 years ago as an exchange gift on a Christmas party in high school. The one which I've been using for sleepovers and camp outs ever since I got it. The one which I unhesitatingly gave my lolo just so he could have even the slightest hint of comfort despite all the wires and tubes connected to his body now.

The call awoke us all that morning. Around 3:30, my tita was badgering my cellphone with a series of calls. Finally picking up, I was dazed by having been woken up to the state of an emergency. My lolo had a stroke and was being brought to the hospital, on a large platter of life and death chances.

I've always been known to be someone who's a really emotional person. A little sobbing here and there is more than enough to start my own waterworks going. And seeing my lolo there, at 7 a.m. in the morning, just 5 hours since he had a stroke or a seizure of some sort, with my lola all fearful and about to lose the love of her life was definitely one of the most heartbreaking scenes I was forced to stand.

They came from Sta. Rosa, like they always do most weekends. This time they were having some bits of my tita's house repaired so that the family can actually use it, or they can actually use it under some prior negotations with my other tito and tita. Friday morning came as a surprise for all of us, especially for my lola, when she found my lolo unconscious, lying beside her soaked in (I don't know how best to describe or say it) waste and other stuff. Not knowing what to do, she called the nearest hospital, allowed them to conduct tests and agreed for the ambulance to take them to the most convenient hospital that they can get to after an hour or so. The doctor happened to know someone from Makati Hospital (this public hospital in Makati) so out of panic and profuse nervousness, she just said yes even if she knew the dangers posed by bringing my lolo to a public hospital.

Of course all her (and our) predictions came true. We were neglected for how many hours, made to wait for simple CT scan results and even refused to be allowed to transfer to a hospital.

To a hospital where you actually understand the diagnosis of the patient. Or even see the doctor looking at the patient to check what he has, for the most part.

I hated everything there.

I hated waiting outside in front of a very dingy and dirty street. Because it's firstly the hospital's duty to at least provide a decent waiting area for all the patients' companions bumming outside.

I hated seeing the patients rotting there. Because there was definitely a shortage of doctors and nurses, a lot of them were forced to wait for their turns (if they even had one) and let themselves fall in line unless they die and get the attention that they deserve.

For the rest of the time that I was there, I did see two patients die. I saw this one woman who was desperately gulping for air when I arrived in the ER the first thing in the morning. The ECG monitor was frantically beeping beside her and her daughters were encouraging her to hold on.

The other one, was a man wrapped in a thick layer of blankets obviously shielding himself from the cold pressure of the room.

I don't know what and how it happened, but both of them passed away come afternoon.

And I was infuriated at that time. I swore that if anything like that happened to my lolo, I would sue everyone in the hospital including those condescending doctors who disagreed and caused the delay of our transfer to a much more decent and humane hospital.

I hate those fucking doctors. I hate how they held their heads up high thinking that they were above everyone else. I understood that they were getting underpaid and that they were rich enough to actually live on that pitiful salary. Underpaid and overworked as my mom said. But you wouldn't exactly consider it heroic if you see them sleeping while doing their reports and ceremoniously passing you to other personnel when all you've been waiting for for the past 5 hours are their fucking documents and the fucking signature so that you can get your patient to a place which can guarantee him more chance to live.

There was this girl who was wearing an ugly pair of Crocs and a Mango tank top under her white vest. I hated her because she was saying all sorts of protocols and was belittling my family for bringing my lolo there and for alarming their ICU staff for nothing. She was questioning why we didn't bring my lolo to PGH in the first place. She was looking at us like we were the same as those other poor families who can't afford to argue with them because they have no other choice but to suck it up and wait. Because they don't have any money to pay for medical attention, and that if this pathetic place can't even render it to them then there's no chance that they'd have it in other hospitals.

But of course we weren't that family. My lola made the mistake to instruct the ambulance to bring my lolo there. We were waiting for the release papers for ages now and it was beyond argument that she being so cocky about it was of no help.

I hated how they looked down on those people. If they thought we were about to fall on our knees to plead that we have the ICU room because we have no other place to go, then I can just shove her all my family's money to actually make her see that we were capable of paying her sorry ass out. We weren't there to gamble with my lolo's life and to be treated as someone that we didn't deserve to be, in the same way that all the other people in the hospital no matter what economic bracket they belonged to didn't deserve their condescending elitist un-doctorly treatment.

And so after 10 years, we were finally able to transfer to PGH, where my tita was able to ask help from her cousin who was a Neurosurgeon. Just what we need. Apparently, the blood clot in my lolo's brain erupted and half his body was paralyzed.

My mom said he was a 50-50 case already. My lola was even saying that his body was so cold in the morning, had she not woken up, it would have been too late already.

We were all clueless. We just wanted him off the floor, out of the cold room and into a comfy private room where he could be treated by all the nice practicing UP Manila doctors in PGH.

All of us were on standby, with the rest of my titas reserving rooms in Makati Med and in PGH.

The ambulance ride was just as terrible. Well if it weren't my lolo in that vehicle, it would have been swell breaking all the traffic rules, doing a huge counterflow in EDSA, being favored by the police and the MMDA for once and taking part in a wild goose chase in the highways of Manila and would have been just as thrilling as a FastandtheFurious movie. But the sound of the ambulance alarm and the throb of my heart reminded me that the reason why we're running this speed was because my lolo had to live. That was it.

At around 6 in the evening, we finally made it to PGH. Where we received outstandingly sound medical attention. The doctorS did a check on my lolo, explained to us his case and immediately prescribed him some medicine after promising us what they were going to cure.

At long last, we were able to go home after ensuring that my lolo would be okay after a couple of days. There's a lot of side notes to the whole story, but you get the picture right.

The day's adventure was another side to life that I would be exposed to not by choice and only by accident just like my mom said.

We're not ready to lose our lolo, not just yet so it was worth all the trouble to make him safe and kicking, enough to ensure that he has enough strength to go through therapy and regain his health.

I have to pray and I have to pray hard. As for that hospital, my lola was right that it was the hospital is the hospital of the dead. However, I don't think we deserved to be treated that way, as if our life, my lolo's life didn't matter.

Screw them for money or for conspiracy. I just don't think no one deserves any of that.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Shadows.

It's 7 a.m. on a Wednesday SEMBREAK morning and for a person like me who has the extraordinary talent to sleep dead shut for more than 12 hours - this has got to be something new. HAHAHAHA.

And while I'm in my room sipping my Sinigang na Hipon soup, snagging my HipHop Abs CD (FINALLY!) I'll try to explain briefly my theory on why I have been waking up so annoyingly early for the past 3 days. :|

I've been having these dreams - mostly about this one person. I know it's weird, perhaps irrationale to blame it on one person. But I don't actually get to choose the people who I dream of, do I? He, IT just happens to be there in my subconscious doing God-knows-what. Mostly my hidden desires (uugh not those) of having yet another someone to share my life with. Kisses and hugs, sweet text messages - the whole package of IT - the one which makes me entirely doomed and sad for clinging to a person who doesn't even know... Who doesn't even know.

And then I get all sad and dreamy, and bothered so I wake up in the middle of the night trying hard to get back to sleep once again. And yes, more often than not I just can't seem to fall back asleep again. I just lay down there, trying to fight any urges to even think about the aloneness... Or whatever. :( :( :(

I'm caught in between ignoring it

and ignoring it.

When it actually bounces back to haunt me. :( This just makes me sad by the minute.

Anyway, after being drunk most of the weekend, yesterday drove the hell out of me. Getting my license (AT LAST HOOORAAAY), drowning myself in sushi for dinner and shopping for food for today's festivities. Since my mom left me in charge and I aggressively refused to go jogging with them, I have to get started with the pasta.