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01 August 2020
11:55 AM


In neurology, there's a suffix we use to denote the massive or total loss of motor power. We call it plegia -- such that, the weakness of one limb is aptly called monoplegia, that of one side of the body is hemiplegia. Patients with neck lesions, for example, experience quadriplegia or the motor paralysis of all muscles from the neck down including all limbs, often making it hard for them to breathe on their own, all the while leaving their cognitive and mental functions intact. Today, I woke up as if I was in that state. Paralyzed.

---

I had a dream. And since dreams have this tendency to be temporary, fleeting, and eventually forgotten, I think it's better to write it down. In my dream, I was looking at my phone, and then I see this notification in my app, under your name, that says, "Typing..."

A beep. Then a simple message. "Hey"

My heart floated with that message. I was happy. I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could, but as I opened my eyes and felt the warm, humid air pull me into wakefulness, reality hit me. I checked my phone. Nothing.

Did you know that when I see that blue dot beside your photo, it makes me excited? That when I see you typing or recording a voice message, I get this warm feeling in my gut because seeing and listening to what you have to say gives me joy. Did you know that during this time of uncertainties, looking at your face and hearing your voice gives me hope? It makes me feel that in the midst of chaos, we still deserve to be happy. Talking to you, even when we have nothing to talk about, always gives me happiness.

You deserve to be happy, and not be hurt over and over again, after and in spite of all the things we went through. You deserve to be happy, to be given a true second shot at it, to be trusted again; because what happened before -- it's just that. Maybe it was wrong and maybe it hurt people, and maybe it was a mistake, but that's everything to it. It doesn't define you. Not me. Not us. I hope we can both forgive ourselves for it.

---

I am still fighting. I don't know if this is the right thing to do -- I'm hoping it is. I am willing to try anything and everything for us to have a shot at happiness, at us being together. I want both of us to be ready when that happens. You said you'll know when that day comes, and I'm hopeful that I, too, will know when it's the right time. Please don't ever think that I'm giving up. I am fighting and I hope you won't go anywhere. I know you are worth it. We are worth it.

---

"It's you."

I am holding on to this.

I opened my eyes today with the sight of my favorite person beside me. A few kisses here and there, and that feeling of being at home. Of truly belonging.

A plain goodbye as he wore his jacket.

Now, there's just silence. And pain.

Am I to blame for all of this? Did I inflict all of this pain on both of us? Am I bound to be alone -- and everything was merely a matter of when?

I don't seem to know where home is anymore.

Oh, my dear, the water was freezing and the moon held its chin up high, its reflection glistening over the undulating mirror below. Our bare feet on the ledge trembling, shivering --

I dove.

But you stayed on the wooden plank, your two hands clutched on your shoulders as you watched me try to stay afloat, hungry for air.

It's how you press your lips on my forehead when we're both half-asleep as if assuring me that you're not going anywhere. Not until you have to. It's how I feel immensely safe when my head is pressed on your chest, close enough for me to hear the gentle drumming of your heartbeat.

It's the sound of clinking beer bottles when we're each telling the story of how our day went -- the moments we wished the other was there to witness, the things that made us ponder deeply, the rants, the joys, the tiny victories, the nuances; our shared thoughts; our flaws and imperfections; our minds coursing swiftly through a vast road without us noticing the change in gears. It's how we take each other's breath away when we laugh, so hard that we feel the little bursts of air spaces in our lungs.

It's when we see each other and realize that the image in my head -- one that I constantly think about during the day -- is nothing compared to what I'm seeing before my very eyes. It's the ordinary. And the extraordinary. It's how our hands find their way to meeting, interlocking, as if they have minds of their own.

It's how we make love. Oh, how we make love! It's the way you would hold me tight, telling me that everything will be alright. It's when I feel I'm about to lose my senses when I see your face filled with pleasure; with excitement; with comfort; with hunger; with contentment. It's how we lie on our backs after; frantically catching the breaths we thought we'd lose. It's that moment right after when we're lying beside each other, like two childhood friends lying on the grass after a day's worth of play.

It's when I look at you, and that silent prayer I say right before I close my eyes. And it's happiness, and all the good things filling every part of my being, every cell in my body; every fear I have knowing how my heart could shatter at any given time, every glimpse of a possible future, every truth -- and then I whisper those words just before you fall asleep.

Hey,

I almost thought I wouldn't be able to get up earlier this morning until Charmy asked me what time I'll have chief res rounds. That's when it hit me--I need to get up. I need to take a step forward.

I was impressed with the interns during rounds and I made sure I remembered their names--Vie and Bevs. They were able to answer the questions I'd normally ask our first years. I told them they should consider neurology for residency. Three clerks were also commendable earlier--Gina, Jitca (?), and Emil. I never thought I'd miss teaching that much.

Then I saw you as we went back to NICU. I smiled. I smiled because that's the only thing I could do at that very moment. I couldn't run to you, or hug you, or kiss you, or hold your hand, so I smiled.

After that, Clare and I went to mass. I welled up while singing "Sa 'Yo Lamang". I thought of you when I first said "peace be with you" before turning to Clare. I am truly hoping that we'd both find peace.

I'm off to a coffee shop to start cramming my grand rounds. I don't know where exactly I'll work, though.

I just also want to say I miss you. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

With love,
N

Hope

We did everything we could.

Thank you, N, for trying.

Fast forward to a month later -- being finally done with Pedia, and going back to my niche. During these days, we'd see each other every morning for endorsements, and again after work to do something we both love: reading. We'd read our neurology books, but on some days we'd pause to read fiction. We would taste all sorts of coffee from different coffee shops

Fast forward to four months later -- you get to see me graduate. Four years of gruesome training finally coming to a close. Of course it's you I want the most to be there. We spend the night after the ceremony getting ourselves drunk with Asti, laughing all night long; me looking you in the eye and telling you that I'll make it my goal to also see you graduate. I'd keep wishing I'll be there to see that.

Fast forward to a year later -- we fight over the silliest things: where to eat, whose condo to sleep in, whose turn it is to buy groceries. I'll be easily annoyed because the stress of the boards adds to my existing anxiety. I throw tantrums in the morning and you console me, giving me the push to finish one chapter at a time. I spend the day studying or doing clinics for practice, then in the afternoon, I'm filled with excitement as I fetch you from work.

Fast forward to couple of years later -- both of us done with residency training. Real life waiting to unfold before our very eyes. We doubt. We feel afraid. But we step into the unknown and take a leap to starting a life somewhere far. Somewhere cold. By this time, our families know we're together and we meet them for the holidays. Fellowship won't feel lonely since we're together.

Rewind to now. Where things seem blurry. A time when things are uncertain. A time when choices have to be made and issues sorted out. A crossroad.

Maybe this is how you fight. Or how you don't. Maybe this is how we get there, or maybe this is how we lose. Is fast forward bound to be real, or is it going to be just another figment of imagination? The questions never seem to run out.

And then, a pause.

Time seems to pass so slowly since I left your building. Today, I woke up at around 5 am.

Silence. Deafening silence.

I do my daily rounds and errands hoping that these will hasten time, intentionally pushing myself to exhaustion so that I won't have time to think or feel. But you're in me. In everything I do, you're there.

I got myself a haircut yesterday. On my way home, I bought a grande non-fat macchiato and paired it with the cookies I bought at Rockwell. I watched that Grey's episode when the senior residents took their surgical board exam. As it turns out, it's the same episode where Lexie tells Sloan that she still loves him.

Today, I received an email from MDS that my application for a travel bursary has been granted. I guess I'm going to South Korea next month. I'm panicking because I'm still fixing my documents for the visa application. I hope I can make this happen.

Sleeping at the back of our lounge has been the closest I've been to you. It felt so good to hear your voice when you called the accounting office. It was a good nap.

I just got home from the fellowship and post-CME dinner of Pedia Neuro. I think this is the first time in days that I ate so much. Our team won the jeopardy game, and I got free chamomile tea from Marks & Spencer. In just a bit, I'll take a shower and try to sleep. Tomorrow is another day.

I hope your day's going fine. I'm excited for you to see your mom again.
Happy duty, love.

The Things Left Unsaid

Remember to pause and take a deep breath when you feel like everything is a blur.
Eat; but not too much bacon.
The right way to stir your coffee is in a front-and-back direction.
You always deserve a good cup of coffee.
Never stop being in awe of sunsets.
Read more books when you have free time.
Never lose patience in teaching those who know less;
but at the same time, never feel obligated to give them everything on a silver platter.

When your soul feels down, write.
Or sing.
Smile often.
Laugh often.
Say a tiny prayer before you go to sleep.

Always bring an umbrella -- you never know when it's going to rain.
Take care of Papa.
(I'll hum a happy birthday song during his 80th)
Take care of Einstein.
And Newton.
Don't be too annoyed when your mom starts to nag. She cares.
Buy her something before she leaves. Or cook for her.

Don't ever let anyone feel that you aren't doing enough.
You are on your way to greatness -- never let anyone make you believe otherwise.
Be kind.

You are loved.
You are love.

404

A week ago, we said goodbye to our little sanctuary. That room was witness to our happiest days together, and it gave us a glimpse of the life we could have in the future. I will always remember the nights when I'd come home to you after a stressful day and I'd feel all my worries vanish as you wrap your arms around me. I'll remember how your kisses made it possible for me to still be thankful after a seemingly bad day. I picture you on the bed, you wearing your suit, and me coming over to hug you, and look at you, and find the answers I have long been waiting for. You are my closest thing to heaven. You are love.

But I asked for a pause because I needed time to be stronger than the past. On our way home, as I sat in the plane, I kept thinking about the pain I've felt when we were still together. Like I've said, remembering everything is a gift inasmuch as it is a curse. Whenever I remember seeing the name of someone from your past on your phone, I can't help but die a little inside. I remember the night when you told me you were communicating with your past because you panicked over the loss of your phone. Each time those memories come rushing back, I feel hurt. And I wanted to pause because I know we can't fully love when we're both still hurting. I wanted a pause because our story deserves so much more than arguments and apologies. We deserve to be loved in a way that makes us feel enough, that makes us feel happy without guilt--a love that is not encaged by fear.

Still, I can never be thankful enough for 404 because it gave me one of, if not the happiest days of my life. It made me believe that I am capable of making someone happy in spite of my flaws and imperfections. I know now that I will never run out of love, and that I can be loved. I have no idea what the future holds for me, and if we will indeed end up together on the same road. I am hoping. I am taking a pause so that when the time comes that it happens for me--for us--I'll be ready to leave the past behind, and simply look ahead to getting there.

Getting There

If I get to make you feel as happy as this for the rest of your life, I'd count myself lucky.

Here's to hoping that time will be on our side. To our shot. To getting there together.

Goodbye for now. I love you.