EIGHT IS ENOUGH

From Blogger Pictures

No one deserves this


TODAY, AS THE ENTIRE COUNTRY AND CERTAINLY A COUPLE MILLION OTHER FOREIGN NATIONALITIES OGLED THE PACQUIAO-MARGARITO BOUT, I HARDLY GLANCED AT THE TV. I’VE NEVER BEEN A FAN OF BOXING. I’VE NEVER IDENTIFIED MYSELF WITH PACQUIAO. I DON’T SEE ANY SYMBOLISM OF PATRIOTISM IN HIM AT ALL. I HAVE NO TASTE FOR REAL BLOODY FACES AND MILLIONS OF NEURONS SNAPPING SOMEWHERE IN THE BRAINS OF COMBATANTS. WHY ANYONE WOULD OPEN HIMSELF UP TO PARKINSON’S DISEASE AND OTHER POSSIBLY FATAL AILMENTS DISGUSTS ME.

WHAT DISGUSTS ME EVEN MORE IS AN ENTIRE COUNTRY HOLDING ON TO PACQUIAO’S SHORTS. HE’S A GIFTED, HARDWORKING, CHARISMATIC ATHLETE. THAT’S ALL. I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE EUPHORIA. THE SUCKING UP. IT’S TOO MUCH, FIGHT AFTER FIGHT, BELT AFTER BELT. FILIPINOS HAVE GOT TO WAKE UP TO THE FACT THAT PACQUIAO AIN’T GONNA ERASE THE FIASCO THAT WAS QUIRINO GRANDSTAND. THE MAGUINDANAO MASSACRE. FILIPINOS HAVE GOT TO LOOK ELSEWHERE AND DIG DEEPER FOR HEROES—UNDERPAID SCIENTISTS, NURSES AND TEACHERS. ARTISTS AND MUSICIANS. ATHLETES THAT DON’T BEAT UP THEIR OPPONENTS. FOR ALL OF PACQUIAO’S RELIGIOSITY (SEE ALL THOSE TELEVISED MASSES HE ATTENDS), HIS SPORT OF CHOICE—HIS MULTIMILLION BREAD AND BUTTER IS BARBARIC AND INHUMAN. WHAT WAS HE PRAYING FOR? VICTORY, RIGHT? BUT AT WHAT COST? IT’S NOT THE SAME AS WHEN CHRISTIANS OR MUSLIMS SOUGHT DIVINE PROVIDENCE BEFORE GOING OFF TO WAR. THERE IS NO WAR ON THAT RING. JUST TWO HUMAN BEINGS BEATING EACH OTHER UP FOR PRIZE MONEY, WITH A 40,000+ LIVE CROWD CHEERING THEM ON LIKE BLOODTHIRSTY ROMANS.

WHAT EXAMPLE IS PACQUIAO SETTING? WHAT MESSAGE IS HE SENDING? WHEN EFREN “BATA” REYES WAS WEAVING HIS MAGIC IN THE BILLIARDS CIRCUIT, THE COUNTRY’S YOUTH WERE HANGING OUT WITH CUESTICKS. BILYARANS WERE EVERYWHERE. WHERE ARE THEY NOW? HOW IS EFREN REYES? AGE HAS CAUGHT UP WITH HIM, I HEAR, AND THE MAGIC ISN’T WHAT IT USED TO BE. YOUNG PEOPLE DON’T ALWAYS ASSOCIATE PACMAN WITH NATIONALISM. THEY ASSOCIATE HIM WITH MONEY, AND ALL THE MEXICANS HE HAS DEMOLISHED. “IT’S COOL TO BEAT UP A GUY. YOU GET PAID. YOU GET CHEERS. YOU GET ADVERTISING DEALS. YOU GET ELECTED.” MESSAGE SENT.

BUT I HAVE THIS TO SAY TO MANNY PACQUIAO: CONGRATULATIONS. NOW DO AS YOUR MAMA DIONISIA SAYS-RETIRE FROM BOXING. YOU ARE A CONGRESSMAN NOW, AFTER ALL. GO SLAY THOSE CORRUPT COLLEAGUES OF YOURS IN CONGRESS. MAYBE THEN I’LL THINK OF YOU AS A TRUE HERO.
Posted 15 m

PAGBABAGO

Mama was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease in August of 2005. Since then, our family, my brother and I, particularly, have been knocking ourselves out, trying to make sense of what pseudo-sympathizers call “rich man’s disease,” looking for doctors (now Mama has five-a neurologist, a psychiatrist, an internist, an ophthalmologist, and a rehab doctor), caregivers (struck out seven times already), funds (no weekends for my brother and me), and answers (???). PD is already a big bad force to reckon with, but Mama’s recurring depression, brought on by a childhood of isolation and self-doubt, and by consecutive family tragedies (the passing of Daddy and her older sister), is the whammy that’s most difficult to challenge.

From Blogger Pictures

Christmas 2007: Mama could still smile into the camera

From Blogger Pictures

New Year's Day 2010: Mama sees less...

From Blogger Pictures

...But still has a healthy appetite!

There are happy changes, though. The trembling, drooling and choking are now a distant memory. Her voice is now audible, her speech patterns, less garbled and repetitive. Despite her confinement to a wheelchair, she regularly shoots hoops, sings Frank Sinatra songs from memory, and when her vision was still unimpaired, beat us all at Scrabble and watched her favourite WWE wrestler, Triple H, in action. Her once-69 pound frame must have doubled in the last 36 months, thanks to a steady, physician-approved diet of wheat bread, chocolate cereal, milk, white meat, rice, mixed vegetables, papaya and pears. But her absolute, hands-down favourite is the Goldilocks Crema de Fruta, and everybody knows it, as visitors never fail to visit her without the familiar festive fruit toppings and luscious cream filling nestled inside the unassuming brown box. Needless to say, if no visitors happen to drop by within the week, I am more than delighted to present her with her favourite Goldilocks dessert myself.

What makes her Crema de Fruta experience extra-special is the fact that she simply has to put a slice on her tongue, and her mouth , through all that chewing, will curve up in a smile. Then she’ll say, “Crema de Fruta!” And I’d say, “Mama, you’re psychic! Or your taste buds are just super active!” The truth is, she’s half-blind from glaucoma, and could no longer see what she’s eating. So it is my pleasure to spoon-or-fork feed her until that big fluffy chunk of Crema de Fruta is all gone from her saucer.

For our family, living with a loved one totally dependent on others, changes are not really major breakthroughs, but small yet significant steps that each one must take in order to get through the day. Sometimes, change is beyond one’s control; it just happens, and you have to live with it, or overcome it. But the change that I am most familiar with is the change that is based on personal choice. Many people have suggested that we bring our mom to a hospice, or that I go abroad so I could afford a private nurse for her. But those are not my choices. I choose to be physically present and actively involved in my mom’s life, no matter how back-breaking it is. I choose to bathe her myself, to shop for her clothes, to personally talk to her doctors. Mama’s chronic and incurable condition has changed my personal lifestyle, turning me into a homebody, and—I’m happy to note—a prolific blogger.

Sure, I work 8 hours a day, and the pressures of being a school administrator linger with me at the end of the day, but coming home with a Goldilocks Crema de Fruta, knowing my mom is waiting excitedly for me, and the Crema de Fruta, of course, makes everything worthwhile.