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?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
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..........
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..........
Saturday, February 13, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, February 12, 2010
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.
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.
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