drop me some crystals

Ok, I’ve never been into drugs, but these things (stupid pills) have not been working. I look like a chipmunk and I’m honestly afraid that my facial epidermis cannot stretch any more than it has already–and I worry also for afterwards, in fear that I’ll have terrifying stretch marks on my cheeks like pregnant women have on their bellies, because it looks like both my cheeks have buns in the ovens and are about to pop something terrifying out of there.

"Need druuuuuugs!"

So yeah, Dr. Burger (and what the hell kind of name is that for a guy who pulls teeth and gives patients sheets of things they can’t eat, which includes burgers) why didn’t you give me the good stuff? I wouldn’t mind staying in that operating room for a week if you kept me on that special gas; I wouldn’t even mind the IV, even though that thing freaked me out. I still remember the rubber band somebody put on my upperarm to thicken the vein you needed to STAB. You stabbed me, sir, once in the arm, and once in the back with a bottle of these WEAK pills.

And you know what? I need pills. I need fricken stronger pills. I don’t even care if I go through drug withdrawal. I’ll suffer through that. I’ve decided.

And besides. It might even be a good lesson. (1. don’t get your teeth pulled out again, 2. don’t worry about getting fat, being unable to eat is the worst thign EVER, 3. tell your doc you have a resistance to pills and need the hard stuff, because this is not fun. NOT FUN., 4. the real lesson would be not to do drugs, because they are evil, except for the pain killing kind.)

And I look like a chipmunk. I keep worring something is going to fall out the sides of my face, my cheeks are so huge.I want to go out. I’m so sick of mashed potatoes that if I eat anymore, I’ll throw up.

I’m goign to go lie down now.

 

wavy gravy

Got my four wisdom teeth pulled!

Is it so wrong to wake up from being drugged during surgery and wonder about the technical medical stuff going on in my mouth? Of course, being under nitrous oxide and some drug via an IV (which hurt, goddamnit!)  that made me feel like I was flying (fun! not quite what you’d think it’d be like), well, it was a little difficult getting answers because it was a little more difficult to actually speak.

It’s about 8 hours later and my lower jaw is still numb and feels like it’s twice its normal size, but it’s not! I check every so often in the mirror. There is a mild ache, but that could be more psychological than physical as it seems to me as if I ought to be in more pain than I am. But I’m not complaining! (Don’t you make me regret saying that, universe!)

I think the torture part comes in the form of being unable to eat. I want chips and dip and Chipotle and Buffalo Wing Factory wings…It’s like I’m a baby, except aware of the fact that I can’t chew (or suffer the consequences of being unable to eat normal food for even long after potentially getting an infection), or rather, it’s more like I’m an elderly person all of a sudden and must swallow mushy foods.

Tomorrow I am raiding Giant and getting food to eat now while I am a baby/old person, and food that I’ll be able to eat later when I’m grown up (to a nice age) again–those foods will be like edible trophies to celebrate the fact that I got over it.

Frankie got his out as well, and apparently he’s all set to go. He’s very culit, which is a Filipino term that means: whiny, annoyingly persistent, naggy, and essentially like a bulldog who won’t let a topic go. That topic is eating and going out–he wants to go to friends’ houses, which the parents both said no to, and he wants to eat and eat and eat, which he can’t unless he wants to risk an infection. But…well, that’s pretty much his personality–he gets an idea into his head and can’t let go, even if the answer is no, no, no.

He’s allowed to frolic tomorrow though, and he’s already planning a trip to IHOP, Taco Bell, Chipotle, McDonalds, and various friends’ houses.

.

Anyway, just wanted to add a post when something interesting (surgery! and drugs!) happened.

.

Oh!

Had my phone interview with The Chronicle of Higher Education for a summer editorial internship, but I haven’t gotten a call back. Oh well! It was a good experience though, I think. Mom and Dad suggested that I write down notes about things to talk about in response to possible questions they may ask, so I did that the night before, but they didn’t end up asking me about any of those topics. It was more of a question and answer about the five clips (published articles) I sent in, and also questions about my internship and activities.

I think they should hire me. But oh well. Hopefully SOMEbody wants me! :P Or this summer will SUCK.

Ok, well, adios! Perhaps I’ll write again! And with hopefully more interesting bits.

 

do-over; i <3 words.

So not much has happened recently, but it’s been a busy first month of school. We’re seniors now, old I know, and can’t quite believe it. The same thoughts, though exponentially more terrifying in their intensity, are running through our heads–where did the time go? we’d better slow down. what the hell?

It’s as if things are so hectic and busy that we keep wishing for each day to just please be fricken over already, but at the same time, at the end of the week when things quiet down, we seem to wish we could have a do-over. But do-overs only really existed when things weren’t quite understandable, when time wasn’t relavent and make believe was almost reality. It really was only ever real when we were about five.

.

Being in on the qt makes me excited.

Anyway, so I got an internship for university credit and my first week was last week. I initially felt a bit useless as I don’t know how to use Adobe Illustrator to create document designs and layouts, so I’d been working primarily on textual things.

VT Intellectual Properties, Inc. does patent and licensing work. Any new research, developments, inventions, etc. that anyone (faculty, staff, students) comes up with is brought to VTIP so they can get rights to whatever it was they come up with. As a Technical Writing Intern, I am currently working on summaries of each of the technologies that the company wants to be marketed so that other companies/manufacturers/labs or whatever will license the new technology and get it out to the WORLD.

And now I am working on deadline stuff and am invited to sit in with attorney and inventor meetings so I can churn out the mini-newsletters/info sheets about the new tech after the inventors get rights to their inventions! And apparently the info I work on is ‘on the qt,’ which (and I had to look this up after I was told that this was what it was) means it’s very confidential.

So now it’s all gone to my head, and I feel rather important in the geekiest way possible. Besides, I love learning about new scientific research and all the new things that scientists are coming up with/researching. It’s like mini-lectures about various research projects! I do research on the tech, talk to the licensing associates who know about the tech, and soon I’ll be able to meet with the inventors themselves!

.

“It’s like the end of an ERA!” – Rachel from Friends

Anyway, now it’s all coming to the point where I have to get a real job and get my own place to live–because, if we’re being honest here, I cannot live at home for very long after I get out of college. I am closer to my family than some people are, but at the same time, I feel like a moocher, and though they do say they like taking care of me, I feel as if they shouldn’t have to any longer.

So now that I’ve realized this is the beginning of the end, I need to crack down and get ready to throw myself out there, shove my resume in as many people’s faces as possible, and pretend that, though I don’t look a day over 16, I am actually 21 years old and an adult in every possible way that can land me in adult-people jail.

Just thinking about that has me wishing I could push rewind, that I could click on the backward chapter button and go to my first college party where Megan drank herself almost to death and we had to stay at my godsister’s, step back to senior year powderpuff football, athletic training room sword fights, Manhattan bagels before morning traffic. I wish I could go back to pee-wee soccer where scoring goals was the highlight of the week and those slices of oranges during half-time made my day. I want to turn around and wind up back when trick-or-treating was just for people my age and wanting candy every second of every day was not something strange.

I wish I could call out, ‘do-over!’ and have everything start over again.

But at the same time, I’m happy where I am right now at 21. Maybe instead of rewind, I can push pause.

 

puss in wading boots

It’s been quite a while this time! I kept meaning to writer earlier when I first moved in, but found that compared to when I was in England and on vacation this summer, I find that there’s not much to write about in comparison.

Maybe now I can still write rather often, but shorter posts or something. Just to warn you, however, they may be filled with rans. Check the category to know for sure. ;o)

Ok, I started this post this morning while I waited for someone to call back so I could interview them for an article, but now it’s 9:36pm, we just had shrimp caesar salad and baked potatoes and are watching America’s Next Top Model. In 14 minutes, Sons of Anarchy will be on! This is a great thing because one of my top five guys is in it! Charlie Hunnam :o) He was one of the main guys in one of my favorite movies ever: Green Street Hooligans.

Originally from England, he takes on an American accent for this tv show. In the movie and on another show he says things in an American accent in fun sometimes and it’s kind of hilarious. Like other people from England sometimes do when they’re putting on an American accent, he used a country accent.

It’s better now though, I can still tell a bit that he’s British, but it’s better!

Anyway, yesterday we went to Sinking Creek for my Freshwater Ecology Lab course, and the drive is about 25 minutes west of Blacksburg. It was an interesting drive out there–we took two vans as a class out there and passed a very old-fashioned grocery/gas station with scripted letters in red with two of the middle letters missing. Then we passed by a house with about seven old, old American muscle cars outside and they were all gorgeous. One of them was even an antique-looking police car!

Then we got to the creek, I put on my waist high wading boots, and we wandered into the stream. The guy who sits next to me looked at me, laughed and said, “Haha, aw, you’re like a puss in wading boots!”

We waded in and it was neat! It was fun standing in running water, though it was a bit slippery, and I was afraid of falling. We caught a crawfish! And scrubbed some algae off of rocks. Got water…some stuff I felt very funny doing. I know nothing about lakes, streams, dirt, water, and I don’t like bugs.

I was talking to Cece and Hannah about this after my first day in lab where we looked at tools used in the lab, and I had no idea what any of them were for or any clue what they might do. The other kids in the class were all from the south and I, as a girl from the suburbs, felt very out of place. I nodded and said, “Wow,” a lot as my lab mates dissected meaning from each tool on our table.

Started up with the Collegiate Times again, and they’re so nice! Very encouraging and ego-boosting people there. After being stressed all week until my deadlines have finally passed and the articles are complete and turned in, their words always make me feel better and make me feel very appreciated.

Tomorrow and Friday I volunteered to help set-up and work at Gobblerfest. Then there’s tons of homework to do, the usual, and our first game, the White Out game, against Furman is this Saturday. On Sunday I plan to go with a few people to The River :o)

Frankie said he’d come with some friends! His friend is also on the football team here at Tech so Frank got free tickets. He’s a freshman at Radford this year, and I think he likes it a lot. I’m really glad too! Hopefully he does well in school!

Anyway, I have some work to do so I’m out.

Bye!

 

unconditional

Well, I think I’m pretty much on schedule as far as doing something new, or somewhat new anyway, goes.

All moved in, unpacked, pretty much settled and attempting to re-create a routine…cue in the mild case of separation anxiety and the checklist is complete.

Though, after these three days I’m getting over it–phew!

Some guy stopped by today, a communications/public speaker student trying to get names or something that would result in his being rewarded $10,000 toward his future career (opening a coffee house in Morgantown, WV, called Cool Beans–which I LOVE. One of my favorite phrases EVER). He was asking us questions like what our names were, our majors, and what careers we were pursuing, and then told us that he himself was trying to be a Chip ‘n Dale dancer.

I sort of froze and stared at him for about ten seconds because I was too caught up to break into insane laughter. Just to show you how much of an utter Supernatural fan I am, his proclamation of hoping to become a Chip ‘n Dale dancer immediately brought the Supernatural blooper to mind, where Dean knocks on the door and both of the brothers are in priest attire with cut-off sleeves and he says, “Hi, we’re Chip ‘n Dale dancers and we just moved into the neighborhood.”

Cracks me up, man.

—

Parents, philosophizing again

Dad pretty much moved back into the house, the day I moved out haha! The parents are on somewhat of an upward reconciliation climb with a three month trial period. After hoping for what seemed like months in what actually only encompassed a couple of horrid days or almost a terrible set of weeks, I still wonder if that’s best. But I don’t know what’s going through their heads.

Dad keeps telling me he’s glad I was there, and that’s very heart-warming, considering the horrible state he was in, but I feel like it’s weird that he’s thanking me. Not just because he’s given me so much, but because where else would I be? And we were out at dinner together with Mom and she said that it’s because my love for them is unconditional.

I found that odd and sort of surprising.

I wonder if that’s what it is. Frank found the entire thing unforgivable and stands by that, but that’s been a long time coming, however sad that is to the rest of us. To me, I feel as if it wasn’t my affair, really, not against me personally (even if I was sad on Mom’s part), but after seeing them kind of reconcile, I don’t know that I’d forgive a second time, based on my own principles. I’d still be there, I know I would, but there would be a part of me that would look at him as if he was different. If I’d known about the first time, or if there was a second one before even this one, I may have felt that way now, but it was new to me, and is new to me still, and oh, I don’t really know what I’m saying.

Though, if it had happened to me, I don’t think I could ever be forgiving. If someone does something or says something against me personally, I tend to hold it close–it’s not that I don’t forgive, because I do, I try to as much as possible because I hate being angry, it just makes me sad…it’s just that I don’t forget.

And thinking about it, I don’t know how common unconditional really is, and that makes me a bit sad. How long can how you feel about someone stay unconditional? Is it a three strikes and your out kind of deal? Does it become a shame on you sort of thing after a while? I guess not, because then that would contradict the word, right?

Is there really unconditional out there?

I feel like that’s the important kind, and I wonder how many people find that. I guess you only know if it’s been tried and turns out true.

—

Anyway. Has been a very relaxing week thus far–have been trying to keep on track as far as exercising each day, and I’m happy to say that so far, I’m a bit more than two weeks strong on that count!

Have awful writers’ block. Haven’t completed a story since…last fall for Creative Writing: Fiction. Probably won’t complete one again until next semester, when I hopefully am able to take Creative Writing: Non-fiction and Advanced Fiction. I wish I’d been able to take one this fall, but unfortunately both classes conflicted with a required lab I need for my major.

Blogging helps I guess. Wish I could finish something! My Tidbits file is 33 pages long now. All mini-ideas, plot-bunnies that never turn into rabbits that I can pull out of a hat and magically produce a complete story with, a bunch of characters that sometimes seem to have a common trait or theme…

I was taking to Stu about my type of character last year some time and he said that he could see it, could tell that’s the kind of character I’d create because it’s the kind I like. We were talking about how some people write their characters with their own traits, and I thought I didn’t do that, and he pointed out that no, but I seemed to write characters with traits that I liked in other people.

Interesting, that.

Anyway, maybe I’ll sit down one night and force myself to finish something as if I have a deadline–that’s usually the only way things get done. That, and by penning it into my planner. I should get one of those soon.

My last one ran out of days. I just have tons of electronic post-its on my desktop and lining my desk. They keep me company.

 

faith

A lot has happened since Tito Chad passed away, most of it not good, but I still hold that same faith I felt when my uncle passed on.

My Mom’s saying of the past week or so has been “everything happens for a reason.” Well, after these several days, I believe it.

Before Tito Chad became ill and was taken to the hospital late Friday night, three of his five siblings had been out of town. My mom and the rest of us were in the Philippines and Kauai, Tita Carisse and my uncle were in Texas for business, and Tita Rita and her family were in NC.

All of us arrived back on Friday. The family keep saying that Tito Chad was waiting for all of us to be together.

Also, Tito Jondi commented on how the family has been trying to get Tito Chad here for two years, and after finally accomplishing that goal, they attempted to get a caretaker for him, but to no avail. Tito Jondi said that it was interesting how they’d been worrying over who’d take care of him, his insurance, and all of that, but never his passing. It’s as if the need for a caretaker was never fulfilled for a reason now.

My mom also told me that it seemed to work out for the best–the situations surrounding my uncle’s passing anyway. My grandpa passed away a couple of years ago, and Mom said that my grandma and the rest of the family couldn’t have handled both my grandpa’s sickness/passing and getting my uncle over and his passing at the same time. We got my uncle here maybe less than a year after my grandpa passed away.

That just made me think of that quote that says: people are never given more than they can handle. I’m just thinking that sometimes, maybe you just can’t see it until later.

 

cont. faith

(Note: I’m separating the next post “faith” from this one because I don’t like this sad post being the first one on my blog’s page. This will just be a continuation.)

Lastly (at least as far as I can tell), and I’m wondering about this one, this happened for my Mom.

…

This past Saturday morning was my uncle’s funeral. My brother and I woke to my mom’s raised voice (which is an event within itself), and a bit after her Incredible Hulk action (her words), my dad left the house. He was kicked out, really. My mom wants a separation, because she told me that under VA state law, a couple can’t get divorced unless they’ve been separated for one year. Anyway, my dad packed and left and we went to the funeral.

It was a very nice mass–my mom and her siblings and the kids sang; they sing in the church choir (they’re a family of singers), and it was beautiful. I read from the Book of Wisdom, a passage that my grandma chose that was wonderful, stumbled over a line but overall it was all right.

It was awkward though when Tito Jondi (who spoke the wonderful eulogy; sad but uplifting at once) mentioned Dad among the rest of the family in thanks–for his understanding and for letting Mom spend so much time on weekends with my uncle. And afterwards everyone was asking where Dad was (they all like him so much and hanging out with him). That was awkward because what were we supposed to say? I stuck with saying, “I’m not sure.”

The short proceeding at the cemetery was nice too–it was a gorgeous sunny day (though it rained in the morning while we were at the mass), and after the priest was done with his part, the Ataneans (a high school and college that a lot of my mom’s family went to; all her siblings and herself, and a lot of the family friends) sang the Ataneo fight song. That was just a great way to end the goodbye–with a cheer. They all sang and it was just uplifting, especially on such a pretty day.

It has been almost four days since my dad left the house.

I visited him on Sunday at my grandma’s where he was staying, and he was so overwrought with guilt and sadness and a horrible desperation that was just too hard to handle, really. He is a very focused person; his mind wanders a lot and he has a short attention span, but when he thinks of things, he thinks and think and thinks. He cried at certain points when we were talking and it was just so hard to see. I’ve only ever seen him cry twice, at least that I can remember: when his dad passed away and when I went off to college. I text him a lot too just to check up on him, and what he says in conversation and what he said in his texts were much the same: that he can’t think about anything else, he couldn’t stand staying at my Lola’s, missed home so much, is so sad he hurt everyone, he can’t sleep, he can’t eat–he’s losing weight and gets dizzy sometimes.

Mom hates the night time and we talked for a while last night–she has trouble sleeping too, she’s very hurt, she misses him and just loves him so much, and seeing her cry or try to hold it back with a choked voice is just so hard. She says she’s afraid of being alone, and that just makes me so sad. And she’s the kindest and most empathetic person I know. She worries about my dad even though he’s the one that hurt her, but it just makes her sadder. And she’s also so fair. She lets him come hang out in the house when she’s at work or when she’s sleeping–I hang out with him, and she supports that 100%. She said it best: we’re here living as we always do, but he’s wandering around stuck in limbo. He’s not staying at the house, but at my grandmas, and he hates staying at other people’s places–he has a stigma about his own home and his own things. So it’s especially hard for him, even though he is at fault.

Part of me thinks they should separate, but seeing them both like this just makes me want them both to get back together because it seems like it’ll make things better. Maybe they’ll change and be better after this; maybe this has taught them something. I don’t know what’s best–my brain thinks it knows, but I don’t think you can only trust one thing.

I cried a lot these past few days, but really I think I’m ok. I just feel so bad for Dad, for my brother who has cut himself off from my dad (he’s just so filled with anger and hate that it hurts to see and hear him speak about it; though they’ve always had a rather rough/not good relationship), and for Mom of course.

It’s hard because things have changed and will be different and may always be changed and never the same. It was so hard these past few days because I was the only one speaking to my Dad. He’s at fault, but I love him and won’t ever not be there. But it was just so hard because I was the only one speaking to him; he told/tells me things, and I just feel like there’s no one else I can tell them to–Mom is hurt, Frank is angry, and who else is there to talk to about these things? I’m not saying others should care, just that I feel sort of at a dead end about this stuff.

My mom did speak with him on the phone today, which has lightened the load though. And Dad didn’t call me until around 4pm (he went to work, but I expected him to call earlier because he said he wanted to come by the house while Mom was still at work and just hang out), and the first thing he said was, “I’m happy; your Mom talked to me today.” And that was nice.

It sucks though because I’m leaving for school next weekend, and I want to be here for both of them.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Tomorrow my parents are going to church together. Dad has so much hope that Mom will let him come home tomorrow; he’s hoping to take her to the Kenny Rankin lounge concert on Thursday night, but I don’t know about Mom. Her view the entire time has been that she’s keeping to a decision, and she seems to think this is the best way to go, for both of them. I wanted to tell Dad to not keep his hopes up, but he said that he felt better and might be able to sleep tonight.

I have hopes about things, but I don’t know what’s best.

I never really thought about the emotional part of a divorce (from what I’ve seen on TV or from my friends’ parents’ divorces/separations). I never thought about how much everyone in the family is hurt by it. I just thought, that sucks for the kids because they’ll have to split time, the parents will have to split everything…but I didn’t think about how it really is just a complete separation of something that was once whole.

I think it’ll end up ok though, no matter what happens. It has to get better just because there is just really nowhere else for everything to go but up, which is cheesy maybe, but there’s no other way around that I think. It’s hard to see the good stuff though, when it’s been so hard, but it’s the only thing I can keep my eye on right now because the rest of it isn’t so nice to look at.

…

Anyway, the reason I say this is a joint matter in the whole faith subject above is because my grandma now no longer has Tito Chad to sit with all day, and Mom now has some free time to hang out with her–Mom likes to. They can keep each other company.

I don’t know. This is all very confusing.

…

Venting is good.

 

r.i.p. tito chad

Tito Chad (Richard “Chad” Chua, Jr.) passed away last night. He was taken to the hospital on Friday night because they thought he had a UTI, but was later diagnosed with pneumonia.

He was 49 years old and was diagnosed with Wilson’s disease when he was about 14 years old. As an early teenager, he became bedridden and lived in the Philippines with Lola Nena (sister of Lolo Dick, my mom’s dad) until about two years ago when the family finally was able to bring him to the US to be near his mom, my Lola Betty, and his five other siblings (Carisse, Jondi, my mom, Rita and George).

Though bedridden, and fed through a tube, he hasn’t had any complications in the past. His brain functioned normally, but he couldn’t speak or move. He was able to smile and laugh and respond slightly, could make noises that some of the family were able to interpret, and he was there for our family dinners (which we tend to have many of).

Thankfully, he passed away in his sleep and seemed very peaceful.

…

He ended up waking up early Saturday morning and was breathing ok, but then Mom got a call at around 3:30pm so we headed to the hospital right away. Frank was out with friends and Dad was out at a La Salle (his high school) picnic.

We arrived in the hospital and were allowed into the ICU to see him, and he was sedated and looked so conked out and bleary that it was so sad. He was also on a ventilator because his lungs were filled with fluid except for a small part of one of them. However, they said that the oxygen wasn’t being taken up by the blood very well. They were about to run him through a CAT scan so we were told to wait in the waiting room with the rest of the family.

There were about 14 of us, but a few more people came and went over the course of the afternoon and evening. At 6:15pm, everyone left to go to church but for my mom, Tita Rita and I. We stayed just so there was someone there. Shortly after they left, they allowed us in to see him. We stayed with him there for a while, staring at his monitor and watched as his blood pressure continued to decrease. It went from 90 to about 68 in the short period we were in there, maybe 15-20 minutes. The monitors seemed to alert the two wonderfully kind nurses, and then they called the doctor because the medicine they were using to try to bring up his BP didn’t seem to be working. They told us that Dr. Rosenthal was coming to speak to us so we should stay put.

I figured at the time that he was going to tell us the results of the CAT scan. Apparently not only was there fluid in his lungs, but there was something else in his abdomen shifting the organs to the side, and they weren’t sure what it was.

The doctor came in and looked around, asked us what our relations were with Tito Chad, and then asked where Lola Betty was, because he needed to speak with her. Mom and Tita Rita said Lola was at church and probably wouldn’t pick up the phone, so he told us what they’d found.

Yes, it was fluid in the lungs, but one lung seemed to have collapsed even before the fluid had filled it because it appeared as though the fluid had flowed to that side to create an equilibrium of sorts. Otherwise it would’ve shifted to the other side instead.

Anyway, he said that the ventilator didn’t seem to be working well and there wasn’t much oxygen going to his brain, and there must be another problem besides the fluid-filled lungs causing his body’s infection–apparently the infection had spread to his blood–possibly a tumor or something under the lungs. Lola and the others had decided not to begin any more aggressive treatment because Tito Chad was already in a fragile state.

Then the doctor said that he didn’t think that Tito Chad would last much longer, and that was just a shock. He was so calm telling us everything and that just came out of the blue, at least to me. Tito Chad had never had problems before, the only thing being his having to be prone in bed all the time, and it was so sudden, just the night before when he’d been admitted to the hospital.

Mom and Tita Rita took it so well though, kept asking questions, took it in stride. The doctor said that even the medicines to keep his BP up weren’t working, so he wanted to talk to Lola Betty to ask what she wanted to be done–more medicines? Or stop the medication and give him sedatives and morphine to make sure there was no pain?

Tita Rita texted Tito Jondi, assuming that they’d have their phones on vibrate, and soon everyone was coming back. Lola said no more medication, agreeing with the doctor that the signs were pointing towards Tito Chad’s passing. They’d all gone through this with Lolo Dick’s death a few years back–he also passed away in his sleep surrounded by his family. He’d had bi-pass surgery done, went home, later was readmitted and never woke. He hung on for a few days and then Lola said, “It’s ok, you can go now. Go with your mother,” and then he took a last breath like he was going to fall asleep and passed on.

…

Before the mass had begun, Lola had asked Father Howard at Christ the Redeemer Church where most of my mom’s side of the family go to church and sometimes sing to please have a priest visit my uncle. The priest arrived to perform the Sacrament of Anointing the Sick before the rest of the family arrived, but they arrived for most of it. Then he asked Lola if she wanted him to perform the Sacrament of Anointing the Dying, and I was shocked again when she said yes, please do. His blood pressure began to go up again soon after mom and Tita Rita told him that Lola was coming back, and they joked that he’d been trying to joke Lola.

He liked to joke her. When she was with him, he’d always make noises and be silly, but when with others he’d be calm and good. They laughed and said he always joked her.

Anyway, I was surprised because I thought that he was getting better and would keep getting better–would pass over this low BP business and then we could move on to getting him over the infection and pneumonia.

But Father Archie performed the second sacrament and told us we’d all be in his prayers, and soon left. Then Lola let everyone have a moment alone with Tito Chad. Poor Tito George was crying so hard, kept saying, “Chady-Boy, why?” It was so sad. All of us were crying on and off, and the siblings, mom included, would start sobbing and then calm down and start again. Throughout it all, though, they kept on joking a bit, bringing up old jokes that they shared with Tito Chad.

LOLA: Isa (a cousin of the siblings’) is coming with Lance.

CARISSE: Watch out–she’s going to ask for another baby.

LOLA: Yes. When Papa (what they all called Lolo Dick) was passing away, she asked him to please give her a baby.

Tita Isa and Tito Lance soon got there and everyone laughed at that story.

LANCE: Well, if you’re going to help us have a baby, how about a boy?

Everyone was joking them about how they’d end up getting triplets–three boys probably, so be careful! Tito Lance joked about retracting his wish.

TITO GEORGE: Chady, can you come scare Malou (his wife)?

TITA CARISSE: You can come visit me, Chad, and bring Papa. But don’t scare me, huh!

Lola asked him if he could please open his eyes, and OMG, he did, he really opened his eyes. We all came around and smiled and waved and touched him and told him hello and it was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen and experienced. She just asked him and he did it, even under all the morphine and sedatives. And then after that he closed his eyes and went slack.

His BP soon started dropping and I could feel the tension start. They all were saying how he’s going now. His heart rate dropped to about 55 and two of the lines went dead, and it was just like a climax of strain in the room, but then it went back up, the lines came alive again, and we all relaxed for a bit. Lola was on one side of the bed telling him he’d see Jesus, Mary and God and Papa and he’ll be in a wonderful place and he’d be happy and thank you so much for making us happy and being here with us and we love you, all your family are here and love you and gosh, it was so sad. Tito George was sobbing so hard and running a hand through Tito Chad’s hair on the other side of the bed.

Lola was talking to Tito Chad so much that the family began joking her.

FAMILY: You’re keeping him here. He’s probably gone already and laughing at how we’re still here and talking to him.

The doctor said his organ’s would give out one by one, which is painful, so they were giving him lots of morphine. The doctor and the nurses came quite a bit and stayed for a while, and the night nurse stayed with us. They let us stay the whole day, even though visiting hours came and went. The doctor also said that Tito Chad had a young, strong heart and passing away may take an hour or so, or more, he didn’t know, but he knew it was coming.

Poor Tito George was distraught.

TITO GEORGE: Chady-boy, wake up.

LOLA BETTY: No! He’s already going up to heaven!

Everyone, Tito George included, laughed at that. And he even told Lola to stop talking so much, she was keeping him here to long. They told him afterwards that it was ok to go to sleep now.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later and Tito Chad’s HR slowed really quickly and went to about 45 or so and then stopped completely. Tita Rita was sobbing so loud and said, “Oh no, no Chad!” and all the siblings and everyone was crying and it was scary and sad and relieving. We were all staring interchangeably at the screen, and at Tito Chad. And then shortly the screen went to a screensaver and that was utterly terrifying.

…

I’ve always believed in God. My mom’s side of the family is very religious, especially my Lola who is a part of Opus Dei. But I’ve never seen anyone die, and always imagined that it would be like they were just trapped in their body still, not really trapped, but just sitting there, maybe until they were cremated or buried, just dead still.

But last night, after the monitor turned off, it felt the like the room was little emptier, and looking at Tito Chad’s body, I really felt like he wasn’t there any more, just was gone.

It’s renewed my faith in a surprising way. I’m not too sure how to explain.

There are also so many ways that Tito Chad’s passing seemed to be God’s wish, but I’m tired, and I’ll write about those tomorrow. It makes it all so much easier, and I’m wondering if that’s why I’m at peace with this and why it seems like the rest of the family is too.

Tita Carisse said as we were walking out of the hospital, “Can you imagine Chad running? Moving his arms? Talking?” After tonight and after everything, yes.

Goodnight.

I love you, Tito Chad, rest in peace, and I know you are in a better place. Say hi to Lolo for me please. :o)

 

jetlag: hospitals, thieves, and near-arrests

It is almost 5am and Mom, Dad and I just ate a midnight breakfast with decaf coffee.

Jetlag and impromptu hospital visits

I woke up at about 3am, unable to go back to sleep, and then I heard the honk of our Honda Pilot locking up and my parents come in. My Tito Chad, who has been bedridden since he was a teenager from Wilson’s Disease, was taken to the hospital for fear of his having a UTI, but it turns out that he had pneumonia and both his lungs were filled with fluid but for a tiny portion of one lung. So my parents went to the hospital, and I heard them come back.

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Theives, ghosts, and memory-loss

I didn’t know this at the time and tried to go back to sleep, but then I heard a series of alarms going off periodically and decided to give up trying to sleep. I came downstairs, they told me about Tito Chad, and then showed me the footprints on the sill of the stairs that lead from the basement to outside that we can see from the kitchen.

While we’d been gone, my cousin Camille had been getting our mail and taking care of Comet, my golden retriever brother who unfortunately couldn’t accompany us on our family vacation. One day she called us while we were in Kauai and reported that somehow, the lights, different ones from the ones she left on, had been turned on. She usually leaves a couple of lights on for the appearance of the house being inhabited, but when she came back to the house the next day, it was a different set of lights that were on. The laundry door was open too.

Mom joked that it was a ghost, and that Dad shot her a look because he didn’t want Camille to get scared. She’s about 4′11 and 18 years old. Shorter than me!

Here’s an interjecting anecdote that I found hilarious that is her worst short-story (forgive the pun!):

She and her friends went to a restaurant and the waitress gave everyone regular menus, but served her a kids’ menu! She said they probably thought that she was the younger sister of one of her friends! Oh man. And she says that while she’s in line, people cut her sometimes because they apparently think she’s with someone else, as a child or younger sibling! Jeez. Poor kid!

Anyway, my parents were setting up alarms on the doors, just cheap ones that if the door is opened when it’s on, then they’ll go off. We though briefly that someone had stolen Dad’s work laptop, but left all our cars and tvs and the precious Wii, but Dad just found the laptop. So now it’s either just a ghost or Camille forgot which lights she left on and which doors she left open.

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Near-arrests

So we ate a midnight breakfast. Hunger was the main reason I pushed myself out of bed in the first place. However, we had no eggs so Dad, as energetic and ADD as ever, decided he’d go to the 7-11 in Sully Plaza to fetch some.

Eggs in hand, he walked out of the store and was stopped by two humongous, white policemen.

They said that there had been some activity in the area and the suspect was an Asian male. They asked for his ID, and he was so worried that he double-backed and told us later that he thought that that may have made him look guilty or something, which made him even more worried. He was also worried because he’d heard of people being mistakenly arrested, and he also worried that he had ::ahem:: a certain substance in the car.

Anyway, they ran his ID through a database, saw his age and said, “Oh, you’re 48? The guy we’re looking for is a lot younger.” At this, Mother and I both laughed because he’d been getting a lot of words about how young he looks, and this was the first time that it was in a rather negative situation! They asked where he worked, to which he replied, “I’ve worked in the World Bank for about 23 years.” The cops raised their brows at that, apparently, and said, “Oh, so you really are pretty old!”

Then they returned his ID and let him go saying, “Thanks for your time!” And off he went.

Poor thing came back a bit frightened and edgy.

Anyway, going to try to get a bit of shut-eye and then wake up tomorrow. Mom and I are going to make apple pie (my FAVORITE; we have a family recipe and it’s a little bit DELICIOUS), and since I know I’m going to be exhausted, I’m going to help her make dinners for the week (chop and stuff), and sleep early. No naps!

Aloha.

 

he’s a legend in his own mind

“He’s a legend in his own mind.” This is a sentence that describes Frank and was coined by Tito (uncle) Rolly.

I’ve mentioned Frank’s egotism, but it’s fun to laugh at. He’s also taken to wearing his sunglasses almost 24/7, so one night in Kauai I played “I Wear My Sunglasses At Night” and told him it was the theme song of his life. I don’t know if that was a mistake or not, but he took to it very well and plays it quite often.

+++

We got back today after a 30min, a 7.5hr, and a 2hr plane ride, which took up the entirety of about a day if you include changing time zones, and was a rather horrible day. I actually like traveling, but I don’t want to set foot on a plane for a long, long time. I still like the sound they make in the air though, and will once again miss the sounds of night flights passing over our neighborhood when I return to Tech.

Also, we saw a mouse in Minneapolis. Mom pointed it out. It was a small one, looked like the kind you’d feed to a snake, and was about four rows ahead and diagonally to the right of us at our gate. Nevertheless, Mother Dearest jumped up, proclaimed rather hysterically that, “YIKES, there’s a mouse! Pick up all your things! There’s a mouse!” She pointed and then started stomping her feet despite the fact that the disgusting creature was far away and not heading toward us.

It was kind of hilarious. Though I do understand the hysteria. If I hadn’t been quite so exhausted or disinterested in everything around me at the time, I probably would’ve picked up my feet along with all my belongings. There are two animals that I hate: pigeons and rats. Sometimes mice though, because I associate them with rats. And pigeons are rats with wings. They are disgusting, disease-carrying creatures. And we all know how I’m something of a germophobe (thanks to Pop), and am paranoid about getting diseases or parasites and stuff.

I had a passing desire to join the Peace Corps. It lasted about an hour. I was really enthusiastic about wanting to go abroad to help people, immerse myself in a different culture, learn a new language, rough it out, but then I thought about it practically and I have issues with going without a proper shower for more than a day, I can’t sleep if I’m worrying about how sanitary the drinking water is, I have a phobia against bugs (especially huge ones), am paranoid about parasites, and can’t sleep well if not in a comfy bed with five pillows.

It would be great to do I think, but I don’t know if I’d live through it.

Though I’d suffer it all if I could do it in Kauai, but no one really needs help there.

+++

Frank zipped right out the door once we got home.

Dad and I want to see The Dark Knight tomorrow. He suggested tonight, but I thought ahead and said I might accidentally pass out at 4pm, so let’s shoot for tomorrow. He ended up passing out on the couch in a drunken, black-out kind of sprawl that made me laugh a bit, and even after being the one to say try not to sleep until later in the evening! Haha! Mom and I laughed at that too.

Mom and I also laughed together at the two boys of the family saying our lives would probably be pretty uneventful and boring without them being difficult, annoying, frustrating, or just plain ridiculous.