why me?

Sometimes I cannot help but ask, why did this happen to me? Why did I have a tumor, a brain tumor at that? I thought it only happened to other people or to some unfortunate soul in the movies.

Is it something I did? Karma? Is it karma? Am I being punished? What did I do? Do I deserve this? Am I that bad to have had that affliction? I think there are worse people than me (according to my judgment)yet they are scot-free from any disease.

Or is it something I did not do like I did not forward the chain letter and just kept it in my inbox? Or I did not heed the signs (such as extreme head aches, loss of hearing, imbalance--- among others)that is why it became as big as this? Or were there absence of manifestations of the usual symptoms? Or is it because I did not give a coin to a beggar tugging my sleeves at the market?

Mama is blaming herself because of the tumor. "Pinabayaan kitang mauntog.... pero hindi, ..hindi kita pinabayaan". I know it is no more than her fault than mine.

I may have had the tumor since I was 11 years old. This is based on the size (5 cms by 4.68 cms, the average annual growth of the tumor (1 to 1.5 millimeters--- yes, it is a very slow growing one), and my age. Thirty-three years... long time. I think this explains my very high tolerance for pain. I grew accustomed to it through the years. (That, Dr. Gap, is your answer when you wondered allowed how I withstood the pain that came with the hydrocephalus).

I have read a lot about AN to search for the answers.But I do not have all of them. One thing is sure, that it is rare and it is sporadic. It does not choose which person it grows on. Neither does a person magnet it because of his diet or because of what he did.

With this, I rest my case and my introspection. I had it, it is a fact. Coping with it and its after effects is the most logical thing to do. Now, to the gym I go.....

a prayer for me

Luke 4:38-40 Jesus Heals Many


Jesus left the synagogue and went to the home of Simon. Now, Simon's
mother-in-law was suffering from a high fever, and they asked Jesus
to help her.

So he bent over her and rebuked the fever, and it left her. She got up
at once and began to wait on them.

When the sun was setting, the people brought to Jesus all who had
various kinds of sickness, and laying his hands on each one, healed them.


Like the three gospels, the gospel of Luke, Luke incidentally was a physician and who related this incident, talked about the miracle of healing done by the Lord Jesus Christ as he went preaching. When the words about this miracle healings spread around quickly, many believed because they saw them happen.

How about today? Some may but some may not believe this to happen. Many would attribute healing to medical science and the advanced technology we now have. However, it can not be denied that all knowledge and talents came from HIM.

So today as we are gathered to celebrate the new life that our FATHER and GOD has endowed Bits, let us come before Him as we profess the miraculous healing He had done on Bits.

Let us pray.......

MOST PRECIOUS FATHER and GOD, the GREATEST HEALER of all, we come to you once more to worship you and thank your for the many wonderful things you have done in our lives.

Thank you foremost for the lives you have given us. Thank you for health and strength. Thank you for the countless blessing showered on each one. Thank you even for the trials that come our way.

Forgive us FATHER that at many times we questioned you about these trials. However, we believe that you had reasons to give these to us because on the other hand you gave us the strength to face these.

Tonight, we specially thank You for the continuing sustenance of Bits as she went through her surgery and recovery. We believe that you are the GREATEST DOCTOR, and you touched her and healed her of her illness. Thank you fro providing all her needs. Thank you for the members of the health care team who cared for her. Thank you for all the loved ones who gave themselves and patently and lovingly stood by to give her strength as she climbed her mountain to the peak of recovery.

At this moment, we would like, once more to lift her unto you FATHER, continue to give her strength and the patience to face whatever circumstance that will come her way. FATHER, we would like to pray that if it is your will, she recovers completely from the effects of the disease she had.

There are so many things to thank you FATHER. Thank you for being faithful to us your children. And as we partake of the food set before us, may you bless all these to nourish our bodies and may you also bless the bonds of love and fellowship we have for each other.

In JESUS'S mighty name we pray, AMEN!


- BY ATS
(Karol Ruth Licudine-Valles)

a simple how are you will do

I am one of those who do not like going to funerals or visiting sick people, especially those who are terminally ill. I do not know what to say or what to do. I also have the feeling, sometimes, that those left behind do not really know me. At other times,I do not feel significant enough to matter especially if the one whose wake it is is popular (justification?.... hmmmmm...).

I do not know what to say or what to do. What do you say to somebody whom you know is going to die? Get well soon? Or to those left behind by a beloved? ( I think going to a wake is easier...).

But a simple "how are you?" is enough, I have discovered. Things change when viewed from the perspective of the recipient. It may not be enough to you but it is already a lot. To ask how somebody is doing is enough, to listen to his answer means even more.

To ask "what can I do to help?" may also mean very much. Even if you cannot do a lot, just the thought that somebody is willing to do something really lifts one up.

Or just your mere presence is enough. Being in the same room expresses sympathy and kinship and somehow conveys the idea that one is not going at it alone.

Or just a touch is enough to reassure a person that he is not alone in this world, that he has people who are with him as he goes through his pain, through his journey.

Yes...don't forget..... just a simple "how are you?" will do.

therapy, therapy....

Now, Yodi (Jael, my older daughter, helps sometimes, too) and I just do the facial therapy every night. It starts with the electronic stimulation of some points on my face, then a massage, and then the facial exercises. The electronic stimulation makes my facial muscles move involuntarily, it reminds me of a fish out of the water, gasping for precious oxygen. And you should see the exercises, too... They made me feel silly in the beginning (I still feel silly, once in a while) but I have grown accustomed to them. Yodi makes it a point (he says he reserves the energy) to do my therapy. Sometimes, he is so tired that the counting makes him sleepy and his touch slackens, but he does the therapy without fail. Only on rare occasions do we skip the therapy. I like doing therapy because it eases the pain and discomfort from the numbness, it makes my speech better, and it relaxes me. Another plus is that Yodi (and Jael) and I are closer because we are doing something together (maybe ballroom dancing or Aikido or even walking can also precipitate this kind of feeling).

I had therapy for my arms and legs from April to October. Until the clinic affiliated with the hospital (just a walk away) closed shop because of higher rent. They referred me to another hospital for my therapy but I did not have somebody to take or fetch me to and from there. It was a little bit far (for me). I was not strong enough to take the jeep. Taxis are not that regular. Yodi's time did not permit it. Plus the frequent travel is not good for my eye. At least those were my reasons. Yodi wanted me to go to that hospital, try things out, and see. I agreed but we never got around that hospital.

It was also during this time that the doctor (one who specializes in physical therapy and rehabilitation...I forgot the term, but he said that it is a relatively new field) recommended that I go to a gym to supplement my going to the clinic. He wrote his recommendation and the recommended exercises and I searched for an appropriate gym (appropriate=near). Luckily, I saw Flex Gym and it is just three minutes away from our house. No crossing the street, too. The gym owner (who is an attorney and a body builder)talked to me first, interviewed me. Then he and the instructor came out with a program based on the doctor's recommendation and their experience ("rehab", they called it). Thus, I set out to build strength and endurance. They also emphasized commitment with a capital C. Yodi accompanied me to the gym during my first month. The months after that, I persuaded him to let me go alone.

On day one, we worked on my legs, chest, and biceps. On day two we worked on the back, shoulders, and triceps. I used dumbbells and machines like inclined machine press,lateral pull down, seabed cable row, military machine press and more. It is a body-building gym, so most of the equipment and most of those going there are body builders. I think I am the only one who goes there for rehab.

These days, we are mostly working on my legs. My instructor is different ever since January. He is stricter and more hands on. He sees to it that I do my exercises properly. He also pushes me by adding counts or putting on more weights. Working for the strength of my legs requires the use of four kinds of equipment and exercises (not to mention the stretching). I have improved a lot but we still have some more work to do. But it will come... it will come....I just need perseverance and time. Sometimes the perseverance wanes. But time, that I have plenty of.

forty-five turning one

Yes... yes ...I'm one... I'm one-year old today........ my bonus life.

It is just now that I am thinking, 44 is not a good number. I am not particularly superstitious, and I never thought of it that way until now. In Japanese, one of the two names of the number four is "shi" which sounds like "death".(The other is "yon" which sounds like... like...yes...."four"). As a result of this connotation, most often, in buildings in Japan, the 4th floor is non-existent or room number 4 is nowhere to be found. This is just like not counting floor number 13 in the Philippines. We do have our room number 13, though.

Forty-four, double death. Close call.

The tumor was taking over, the doctor, Dr. Gap Legaspi (the pioneer of keyhole surgery in Asia, we read over the internet) said. So he immediately admitted me(emergency admittance, he noted on his "order slip")to PGH (Philippine General Hospital) to prepare me for the operation. And, also, I was in danger of being comatose (the tumor was already pressing on my brain stem and I also had hydrocephalus) anytime. Better to be in the hospital for close monitoring.Which was just as well because I felt I did not have the energy to travel home and then back to Manila again.

The surgery was estimated to take four hours. Yet it lasted seven hours. They started to operate on me at 7 a.m. and they finished at 2 p.m. My facial nerve enveloped the tumor. It took them sometime to separate it (the doctor said that it was really stretched but they were able to save it) from the tumor. I think those were one of the longest hours for Yodi. But me, I did not feel anything. When I momentarily woke up because an attendant was transferring me to the recovery room, I thought I did not yet have the surgery.

My birthday is February 12. Yet when this date came, I was not so excited about it (is it because I do not feel like 45?). Or maybe I was, because of all the greetings but I just feel MORE excited about March 11. I also felt that it is more significant to celebrate this day.

Yes...yes... I'm one... I'm one year old today!

taking things for granted

Do not take things for granted. We often hear this. Yet, we do not often heed this advice. Be thankful of things around you. We are often told. Yet we do not really feel gratitude within our hearts. Until something catastrophic, moving, or life-changing happens.

I used to walk with long strides and with a joyful gait. I even went up and down the stairs like I was running, till these were taken away from me. It took me five months of therapy to regain the gait (but it still is not joyful, it was just to get my heel strike back) and not to walk like a shuffling robot. I could not still run up and down the stairs but, at least now, I could alternate my feet when going up (but not when going down).

There was a time when I dreaded facial wrinkles even when I think that they give the face character. I did not have them for a while, on the right side of the face. Now I have some (still desiring more, but they will come, at the rate things are now), thank God. There was I time that I did not have them. It seemed that I had the right side botoxed. It was very smooth, devoid of wrinkles, devoid also of movement.

I also do not have, I forgot the English term, "muta" or "mukat" on my right eye.I am getting a little now (but still, again, more to be desired) with my dried up medication.

It also used to be that I can shampoo alone. It will soon be a year that I could not do this (or maybe Yodi is not permitting me to do this). Yodi shampoos my hair. I protect my eye from the shampoo and the water. This way,my eye is also protected from potential infection. Almost a year also since I soaped my face.

I am mobile and talking. Some head patients I heard of can't do this.The doctors were relieved that I can move my legs and I can walk. There was a possibility of me, because of the surgery (it was inevitable to move my brain and moving it has immobility as its consequence)and the size of my tumor, that I could possibly be a paraplegic.

Work? What work? Oh yes, I used to teach math and earn from it. Now, I can just wish of this.

Life and living. Good we still have them.

So, so ...so.... Should we be reminded (again) not to take things for granted and to be thankful of what we have?

plastic covering my eye

People can't help but stare because I have plastic over my right eye.It reminds me of a burglarized car whose window has been temporarily covered by the owner. Children are braver, they ask me why I have plastic covering my eye.

People think that it is "medical" plastic and get surprised when I tell them that it is actually cling wrap, Reynold's cling wrap(sure seal), cut into a rectangle that covers my eyebrow down to my cheek. Enough to enclose my right eye.

It serves as my "eyelid". My right eye could not close very well, could not blink in unison with the left and it is always dry. Compounding this is that it is not manufacturing tears. So when I cry, it is just the left that has tears.But even then, the condition of my eye now is better. I can now wink. I could just do this last December. Nine months after surgery. Plus, my eye is now completely shut when I am sleeping. But still, we are not taking chances, we still cover my eye and tape three of the four sides. So that the plastic will not come off when I sleep. You see, my cornea was torn because it was overly dry. This created a horizontal scar blurring my vision. Why three of the four sides? One of my medicines (deproteinized calf-blood extract, its generic name) helps the cornea to get oxygen from the air---- trivia: I just recently found out that the cornea is the only body part that we have that does not have blood vessels and that it gets its oxygen directly from the air.

Three months after surgery, when my face was still asymmetrical and with the usual plastic over my eye, one child stared at me and I smiled at her. Yet she became more frightened and troubled. Then I reminded myself (I always keep forgetting this) that I should make laughing sounds when I do this. I looked like I was grimacing so I had to make laughing sounds. Now, I do not have to do this. I just look lopsided when I smile, but, a smile it is.


I mostly wear big sunglasses for further protection and for aesthetics (somehow I feel more beautiful when I am wearing them. But during nighttime, it is not practical to wear them) when I go out. I wear my sunglasses to the gym, even while doing the exercises and lifting weights. I get surreptitious glances from the young and healthy hunks around me, yet they do not ask anything. They are just more helpful to me, helping with the changing of the weights and giving me priority in using a machine. I oftentimes want to volunteer information but we do not really speak beyond the "pleases" and "thank yous". Yet I feel that, like you, they are also rooting for me.

milestones (2)

I think that no matter what your dreams or hopes may be, big or small, as long as you have them, they will keep you going. It is easy to let go of dreams and hopes especially when the going gets tough, physically or spiritually, but having them, somehow, gives you strength as you go on. They keep you focused. They give you goals.

For the past year I have had a lot of goals and dreams and I set out to achieve them.

I woke up from surgery with a slurred speech, hearing that was different from before (there were people I can easily understand, there were others I can't), maybe this is due to the burden of my left ear taking on all the work. Since my tumor grew from the right hearing nerve, they had to cut it with the tumor, rendering my right ear useless(for hearing that is.... it is still useful when I wear my glasses). My balance was still bad and my muscles atrophied. I was weak. My sight, though sensitive to light, was a lot improved. And yes, I can move my legs and hands! My fine motor skills ,though, were affected. Even if very weak ( I can hardly stand, nor can I sit down), I can move my extremities. But not sitting down was okay for me then, because when I sat down, I drooled a lot.

So what were my goals?

To be able to hold a mug, to be able to drink and not to use straw when drinking, to be able to swallow food, to be able to eat without more than half of my food being on my clothes or on the floor,to be able to walk to and from the bathroom, to be able to sit on the toilet bowl, to be able to brush teeth, to be able to spit especially when brushing teeth (not just letting the water cascade down my chin, wetting the front of my clothes), to be able to change my clothes, to be able to repeat my exercises for more than three times without being exhausted, to be able to march in place without crumpling, to be able to write legibly, to be able to talk clearly, to be able to remove sunglasses without the light affecting me so much, to be able to have my normal gait, to be able to go home as soon as possible so I can see my children. These were my goals then....they kept me going. As I would see later, there were newer goals as the others were achieved.

The goals that I achieved in the hospital were to be able to swallow and to be able to sit up. Although I was able to walk to and from the bathroom, I did it with help. I also required help when sitting down but no help to stay sitting down. So I consider this to be an achievement. It took me months to achieve the others. Two months to brush my teeth, around the same time to stop drooling, about two weeks to be able to change clothes, six months to achieve my near normal gait, about a month to be able to hold a mug, seven months to not use straw when drinking, a month to be able to repeat my exercise for more than three times each without feeling overly exhausted, about a month not wearing sunglasses even in bed, about six months to eat properly. And , oh I forgot to mention, I could not eat and talk at the same time. If I did both, I tended to choke or to bite my tongue or cheek. It took about five months for me to be able to do both.

I do not have a time frame for my speech because most of the time when I get tired and when I am stressed or when my facial therapy is discontinued for two days or so, I slur. I sound normal most of the time, though. But I think I got the comment from my sister that I sounded like "Bits" was about two and a half months after surgery.

It will soon be a year since my surgery. With help and therapy, I achieved a lot (I still have more to achieve, though). Many milestones have been planted along my road. Milestones........ monuments to hope, perseverance and commitment.

milestones (1)

In our life, we have a lot of accomplishments, turning points, and events that made a dent. Some are far in between. Others pockmark our path at short intervals. For the past year, I have had a lot of milestones. Some were events that happened to me, some marked the accomplishment of things I set out to achieve (and others planned for me to do).

One, I wanted to give birth to a normal, healthy baby through the natural way. I did but through Cesarean section. The reason why I had the C section (bikini cut! - unusual in China) was I kept going into labor on and off and the baby was being distressed. So they decided to cut me up.

Two, to be patient while things were going their way so I will not be further distressed and Yodi will not be further burdened. This was harder than I thought.But I was determined. I gave in to crying after reading on the net(this was done sideways and with a lot of squinting and shifting of head) what AN was and what it can do to me especially that I have an unusually big one (the size of a golf ball). I did not cry again because I could not explain the expression I saw in Yodi's face when he came from buying our food and he saw me crumpled in tears. I thought then that we both had to be strong to take care of the baby,to take care of everyday mundane things like eating, and to take care of each other.

Three, to make it through the surgery alive and to see my children grow and have children of their own. If things could happen just because someone wished for it or hoped for it, then my life would be very long. I wished with my heart to wake up from the surgery alive. I know then that I wanted to live long. Never mind being bedridden (if that would be the case), never mind the after-surgery complications, never mind being old and withered like a raisin. I wanted to live.

the feeling of dying

I thought i was going to die... that was how I felt one year ago.I just gave birth to an adorable baby girl who has a wide vista of future in front of her and there I was, thinking that I might die. And feeling it, too.

I was diagnosed to have acoustic neuroma, a kind of brain tumor which has its origins from the overly active Schwann cells of the hearing nerve, several days after I gave birth. The brain surgeon ( who was incidentally the father of one of my students, whose family ...yep...,family, accompanied me months earlier for my first prenatal check-up),who diagnosed it thought I should have the operation at home "surrounded by family and friends" and I should have it "ASAP". These further compounded my feeling that it was serious.

I felt depressed, I did not like to celebrate my birthday. What is there to celebrate? Life.. ha ha. I did not like so much to bond with my newborn. It is just as well as I do not have milk for her. I felt sad. I felt angry. I even have an irrational anger towards Yodi, my bitter-half. He will be able to see the children grow, while I can't. He will be a part of their lives while my being part of their lives will be gone. My newborn will not even know me. I've touched bottom. And these were felt while having headaches and other symptoms of my affliction. I can now pop those headache pills because I no longer have a child growing inside me. Pop I did, every two hours- sometimes less, I drank one pill,that was originally for a frequency of every four hours. I did not care. I was too sick and depressed to care.

But I did not show all these to Yodi. I tried to be brave for him. It was bad enough having such. Worse If I make him feel bad. It was also that depressing because we received the diagnosis in a foreign land, on a cold winter's day. We were surrounded by warm and supportive Chinese friends while I was diagnosed, but nothing beats being home.

People brought flowers, food, fruits, teddy bears, and support.
Only a handful know, though, that I had brain tumor. My fellow teachers came to visit. My students did, too. One fellow teacher did not like to see me because I was told that he did not know what to say (I understood, bec this is my reaction when I am told that somebody has cancer or some terminal disease). I tried to show a stronger face. I sat down when they came and tried not to stand up so that they will not see that I am losing my balance (or my balance is that bad compared to a month earlier). I chatted with people over the internet, but what they do not know is that Yodi is doing the typing for me because my sight was also in botches. He read things for me while I was draped on a nearby sofa, and Kai, our newborn is sleeping on the other one.

My feelings alternated between hope and hopelessness, joy over the birth of Kai and depression because of my affliction, anger and love for Yodi who gave me strength.

In the meantime, we waited. We waited for the papers of Kai to be done. We waited for the time we will be home. We waited..........

having second thoughts

So it is ... I am starting to blog. Just after justifying my title and thinking what a fine justification it was, I thought of googling it and many, many results came out. Most of them are travel sites and agencies..... and I thought the title did not sound like a travel agency! Hmmmmm... what to do... what to do......? Maybe I will just leave it as is now and decide later what to do. What is important is, I have a venue and have finally summoned my courage to write again.

I used to write. Not published stories or poems, but just write. Writing was my catharsis. If I felt lonely, I wrote. If I felt happy, I wrote. I wrote poems and entries to my diary. I wrote monologues, not having the gall to say some things straight to people.I have been often thought of to be outspoken but there were a lot of things unsaid. I wonder what happened if I said things quite frankly to people. Probably the death of me. Ooooops.....

Here I am now, starting to write. This following years of lull. I have not even kept a diary for close to 16 years now. Did not even record the highs and lows of being a mother. Or the accomplishments of my child, and now the highlights of the growing up of my second daughter. For these, I have a reason.

My writing was once taken from me. It was used against me by somebody for his end. Some were destroyed by that same person because he did not like the contents. Some of the notebooks that I have been writing on were torn. What desecration, what an invasion, enough to quell my desire to put my feelings into words.

But now I am starting again. Perhaps it is my need to talk about my experiences, maybe my desire to reach out to people, maybe, again, my catharsis. Maybe all. One thing is sure, that I am writing again and I am not having second thoughts about it.

Wow! It feels like coming out.

Why "Barefoot Traveler"?

We are all travelers.We travel to places, through experiences, through time. Our journeys take us through different routes, but one thing is sure, that one is, somehow, changed at each end of a journey. The process of traveling creates a metamorphosis, however small, in each of us. However trite this saying seems, it holds a universal truth, life is a journey. And I am midway through it.

Barefoot? In some instances, being barefoot signifies haste. But in this case, being barefoot means being exposed and bare. Unshod feet are not protected from the wind, water, snow, pebbles. As one's soul is exposed to the elements when we go through experiences.

I thought of many other titles......"Bits" meaning "morsels" and is also my nickname (Don't ask me why ... It seems like I was born with this name or at least grew up with it. I was called this ever since my memory began). This is , to me, a good title because shows "bits" of my life. "Sketches" is also one. This appeals to the frustrated artist lurking somewhere at the back of my psyche. "Wide-eyed Traveler" is another title that crossed my mind but I junked it because it painted an image of a bug,that had not digested it's food well and is suffering from it, in my mind. Then I settled for "Barefoot Traveler". I hope my justification for it is well enough.

So it is, I travel....barefoot.