Dying
So you are scared to die, after all, my good friend joked. She knew of my leave of absence and my two-week handcuffed-to-the-bed episode, because I had this relapse I suppose, from my confinement. And my doctor, whom I love and respect, was already the one begging me to rest. So I did. Anyway, this friend of mine does not say much about it, but she does peek into my facebook wall and gets updated about what is happening in this twisted life of mine. Often, in the midst of all life's pressures, I would tell her, 'I think I would like to die now.', in jest. She once told me that if she put together the many times I said those words, I would probably be minced meat by now.
I read once that a friend is indeed a friend when she is able to tell you when you are terribly sick and you feel like dying, that yes, you probably are. That's her. All that got me thinking.
So the past two weeks made me realize these things: (1) there are people who do care enough to take care of you, literally, and it is at times embarrassing that you cannot reciprocate as much as the love they shown you; (2) one can have this wicked, whirlwind love affair with a bed, like I did (I think I am still reeling from the affair up to now.); (3) when my mind is clear of all the toxicity from a career, I become on the edge and borderline insane; (4) 'dangla', these leaves which were taught me to use in my bathwater, works wonders (I have not googled what it is exactly, but a neighbor in La Union tipped that off to me years back and I remembered.); (5) I am afraid to die.
Because of these bullets of wisdom gifted to me by this chronic bronchitis etc., (1) I will strive to be less than the demanding bitch I am with other people because I felt so helpless when I could not get up from bed to simply pee from the dizzy spells that overcome me; (2) I will always be in this illicit affair with my bed; (3) I will have to move my butt off starting next week and start to get into the swing of things at work again to keep from getting crazy, but my doctor specifically told me to it slow and easy; (4) I will not sneer at herbal stuff again because some really do work; (5) I will not die. Well, at least until I can hold that off and negotiate with the Boss up there to let me live, until at least Balong finishes college. I will be grateful for each day I wake up, alive. Not coughing.
You will all note that I am evading this concern about my enthusiastic support for Republic Act 7171 of the Philippines. But believe me, I am taking note.
I want to say thank you, to all who endured my absence, and my presence (hehehe) in their lives the past two weeks, with this prayer:
'Thank you for the food we eat,
Thank you for a world so sweet,
Thank you for the birds that sing,
Thank you, God, for everything.'
I read once that a friend is indeed a friend when she is able to tell you when you are terribly sick and you feel like dying, that yes, you probably are. That's her. All that got me thinking.
So the past two weeks made me realize these things: (1) there are people who do care enough to take care of you, literally, and it is at times embarrassing that you cannot reciprocate as much as the love they shown you; (2) one can have this wicked, whirlwind love affair with a bed, like I did (I think I am still reeling from the affair up to now.); (3) when my mind is clear of all the toxicity from a career, I become on the edge and borderline insane; (4) 'dangla', these leaves which were taught me to use in my bathwater, works wonders (I have not googled what it is exactly, but a neighbor in La Union tipped that off to me years back and I remembered.); (5) I am afraid to die.
Because of these bullets of wisdom gifted to me by this chronic bronchitis etc., (1) I will strive to be less than the demanding bitch I am with other people because I felt so helpless when I could not get up from bed to simply pee from the dizzy spells that overcome me; (2) I will always be in this illicit affair with my bed; (3) I will have to move my butt off starting next week and start to get into the swing of things at work again to keep from getting crazy, but my doctor specifically told me to it slow and easy; (4) I will not sneer at herbal stuff again because some really do work; (5) I will not die. Well, at least until I can hold that off and negotiate with the Boss up there to let me live, until at least Balong finishes college. I will be grateful for each day I wake up, alive. Not coughing.
You will all note that I am evading this concern about my enthusiastic support for Republic Act 7171 of the Philippines. But believe me, I am taking note.
I want to say thank you, to all who endured my absence, and my presence (hehehe) in their lives the past two weeks, with this prayer:
'Thank you for the food we eat,
Thank you for a world so sweet,
Thank you for the birds that sing,
Thank you, God, for everything.'
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