because i can’t post at blogspot

there is a problem with my computer. i asked adrian for a quick look, he said maybe because my  C Drive is almost filled up (damn these big photo sizes).

he advised me to transfer most my photos to my external hardrive. that will be tomorrow’s job, which i hope would clear up the slow uploading of photos.

its weird coz multiply and blogspot are the only ones that has problems. flicker downloads like lightning as well as wordpress,which i still feel is the problem of multiply and wordpress.

and since i have been itching to post this since last night at blogspot, let me post this here, for the meantime, while hubby sorts out whats wrog with my computer.

i wanted to see how this looks as a bigger photo ..just thinking of printing some photos when were decorating the dining area=)

dreams

 

i had another dream of papa last night.

another, because i dreamt about him a few days before my birthday. in the dream, i saw him across a road (i dont even recognize the road), and he smiled and motioned for me to meet up with him halfway. i did and he took my hand. all of a sudden i was a little girl. i said “hi pa, naa lagi ka”. he said, “niagi ko kay i-treat tika kay birthday nimo”. i held his hand knowing i was in a dream and i held too tight. the next thing i saw we were walking to cross the road, and after a car flashed by, i couldnt see him after that.

the feel of his hand felt too real. i cried when i woke up.

last night’s dream was weird. my mama and i were in a hotel and we were talking about the coming “halloween” (not that we celebrate halloween at all). we talked how scary the feel of some hotels esp that it was halloween. i went to the toilet and i ran out to my mom and reported that i felt “a presence” of “something”. i urged her to go to the toilet and feel it for herself. my auntie inday was around that time too.

then out of the blue, the intercom (i dont know why there was an intercom), said “chelo, chelo” it was Papa’s voice. i said “Pa? is that you?”. the intercom voice said “siguraduha nga naa sa imong pangalan ang yuta” and he repeated it 3x as the intercom was very hazy. my Mama was also shocked. the intercom went on to say “pangayo ug tabang sa imong mga tiya”. he said that in a stern voice. i said “yes” to his request even if i wouldnt want to do what he said. and before i he said goodbye “muagi ko nimo karong biyernes para ibilin ang wallet”. i didn’t know what he meant by that, but i said yes to it, as i wanted to see him badly.

i woke up and wept.

i wish, halloween really has the powers of waking up dead love ones and have them knocking on the door.

on second thought, errr, no. its too scary saying it that way.

i wish, im dreaming of Papa again tonight. i miss him so badly.

saturdays are blessings

-the newly washed sheets are warm from your body heat and the duvet smells of fabric conditioner and your scent.

-the coffee brewing downstairs and the smell of the newly bought french bread on the table

-the sound of classic fm playing softly in the background

-the smell of bacon wafting from the grill, and the orange juice freshly squeezed from its skin.

but wait, where’s the cheese?

i love lazy saturday mornings.

my heart sings

–with happiness and “thank you’s”..

 

-Ayen and family gave me a wonderful present over the mail…it was a Nicholas Sparks book and two postcards that reek of the Baldoman’s weekend in San Francisco. I was elated,to say the least.

Ayen is the type that surprises you because she hardly passes a word in between months, then you suddenly get a wonderful thought over the mail. Her generosity humbles me.

 

-I have my own dried fish mafia. Yes i do, and its headed by nonetheless, the person who i run to, day and night when i need help and comfort. She does give me my comfort food too.

Kharla sent me a box of my favourite “buwad”/dried fish–and they’re the cheaper kind, not the “danggit” version.

I am dancing for joy…while my husband is having nervous attacks everytime i cook them as he feels asphyxiated by the smell (i always warn him in adance, and i only cook it on weekends when he’s in the garden or away).

 

* * *

Also, to add to my happiness, im quite busy.

With these….

(storyboard presentation in class, hehe)

             –yet to be mailed to my lovelies–

 

* * *

i wish all my love ones’ hearts are singing beautiful tunes right now.

happiness

 

 ( im posting a happy picture here, or definitely an afternoon of happiness

                                         when i took this picture)

-for my sister Ana that she will be doing things that she enjoys doing. im so happy that she found herself and i’m so proud of her . i know she’ll do great in the path that she’s chosen.

-for Leah, as she finally decided to fly and work in Dubai. She had an opportunity  a long time ago but she wanted to try flexing her muscles in the world of academe in Cebu but felt too constricted where she was. Now, she will have a smorgasbord of work waiting for her in Dubai. Sadly, she wont be in Cebu when i go home.

-for Cheche, that she is finally in the arms of the one she loves. Her small family is complete again.

 

thats it for now.

chances are

i have been given my first placement (internship) to cap my first year in university. since i work in a physical dysfuntion setting, and my background of expertise is amputation and orthopaedics, and minor background with medicine for the elderly, and physical health, i have been given a task too daunting to imagine, too greater a challenge to refuse.

come june,i will be assigned to a mental health centre, where people who have mental health problems come in for appointments and get their prescriptions and integrate in managed workshops and groupworks with the medical team (psychologists, psychiatrists, mental health nurse,mental health OT’s).

as i was given the brief of the place, the outline of the type of programme was being discussed and the type of work i will be doing, i heaved a sigh of relief. the amazing workshops, the groupwork and the excellent team are such motivators. i already feel at home.

my only concern is: will they ever let me out?

probable answer: no. they probably section me as patient number 27, harhar.

 

* * *

and because its a mental health centre: people are asked not to wear uniform to avoid insulting and labeling patients.

concern number 2: how would they know which one’s the patient?

probable solutions: wear my badge at all times/and stop talking to myself,haha.

 

* * *

 

my classmates are simultaneously doing their own placements at other institutions and at other field of work where some of them are really nervous about.

one, who is being assigned to an amputation rehab setting, is asking me a hundred and one questions what to expect, and what to do, down to the nitty gritty bits of equipment provision and other technical aspects. i refrained on giving her the blow-by-blow account. i will not rob her off the beauty at seeing things from an eye of a first-timer, and experiencing things firsthand, without prior bias nor judgement.

i am going in to this placement myself with the basic knowledge of what to do, what not to do, ethical procedures, manual handling and basic theoretical knowledge, but the gory parts and colourful excerpts, i leave that to the night of presentation itself, when the curtains open and flash the neon sign to say : now showing.

at the end of the day, i hate spoilt endings.

grateful weekender

 

there are days when you think you’ve had it bad in the morning, you wouldnt think it would go any worse than that. well, it did. and today was an example of that.

* * *

i went to a patient’s house today to do some occular inspection on the stairs whether we could do some adaptations or install rails/bannister for the safe access. this house was a Grade II listed building (which means quite an expensive/grand house which has a significance to the town’s history). the occupants were the epitome of “poshness” in the old school way.

the couple are in their late 50’s-to early 60’s, and as my patient lives with them (the husband is the son) i needed to see the house where she is going to be discharged to.

the wife (who was french) was really nice and polite and she was quite warm, but the husband (british!) was a different story altogether. while the wife was talking to me and the other OT regarding her mother-in-law’s day-to-day activities at home, the husband came down the stairs looking really agitated and started pacing back and forth. we introduced ourselves to him and reiterated our reason for coming and measuring the stairs and voila! he shouted and pointed his fingers at us, like little girls being told off by the head shopkeeper for stealing sweets from his shop.

he berated us for barging in and telling him what was good for his mother and that the grabrails at the stair would impinge on the character of the house, and that it would make it difficult for him and his wife to negotiate the stairs when there is a handle on the side. duh! if only he’d let me finish talking. (what does he want? make his mother fall down the stairs just so his house looks beautiful?).

monique, the scottish OT who was with me, almost cried infront of him, but me being more assertive and never to run away from belligerent old men (haha!), i told him that he was verbally abusive and that as hospital staff, we have zero tolerance for abuse, and that we are discontinuing the visit right there and then.

we left  the beautiful house and ran back to the car which was waiting for us, when he ran after us (i could hear the wife telling him off for being so rude) and half-shouted (angrily!) ”im apologizing!, cant you see what you’re doing to my wife, you’re getting her upset! please come back and talk to her. im apologizing”. still in a shouting angry tone.

first, we didnt do anything to his wife: his wife was in a jolly mood (she was ever so nice) and very accommodating before he started his tirade and shouted abuse to me and my colleague.

second: saying “im apologizing” when youre shouting and pointing your fingers at us, is NOT apologizing at all.

third: wait til he gets a complaint from the hospital for abusing staff.

i just feel sorry for his wife. can you imagine living with a man like that?

it makes me feel grateful i have a husband like i have who is so nicely tempered and never shouts at me. it makes me feel so blessed.

i wouldnt trade my husband for a shouting baffoon for a nice grade 2 listed building. not unless it comes with 10 million pounds, then i would consider ,*haha*…

PS:  grade 2 listed building are buildings/houses which have great significance to the town or the english heritage and history. if you live or planning to buy a grade 2 listed building, you are not allowed to do any restructural works and renovation to the house (inside renovation is allowed but with a long arduous process which needs to be approved by your council) as it is part of the history books (whether your town’s or the country itself).

-in that man’s case, their house was the first pub built in the town of billericay. the building is now used as a family home yet inside, you can still see the original features, and some being reconstructed to keep the place’s character. if we needed to put a grab rail for the mother’s safety, we would be allowed as it won’t alter the structure of the building. unfortunately we werent vetoed by the council. it was the owner who was more concerned on the beauty of his mansion than the safety of his mother.

* * *

the afternoon was relatively laidback, until i had to again, do a visit to a patient’s house. this time, it was a patient who was longterm manic depressive and the husband, who was her carer,was having mental health problems himself.

the house looked like it was cut out from the movie Austin powers. everything was 60’s decor, but also, it seemed as if it wasnt cleaned since the 1960s.

our patient’s mental health problems started when she gave birth to her son in the late 60’s. she suffered from post natal depression and never recovered after that. her mental health started to spiral downwards and it got to a point that both her and the husband are mentally affected.

the house was classic case mental health patient’s abode. unkempt, unhygienic and traces of soot on the ceiling from previous mini-fire were there. the husband was overly anxious with signs of paranoia and had very low capacity to take care of his wife. to top it all, when i checked the kitchen, his wife’s soiled underwear were hung on  a clothesline just when you look up in the ceiling. the cooker was too sticky, and i was scared to even look into the fridge. and the kitchen smelt of leaking gas.

my work was cut out for me when i got back to the hospital, i had to write a report for health and safety risks, rang the gas board to inform them of a possible leaking gas incident (a fire hazard), and had to request for a social worker to assess the patient’s social status and a mental health visitor to visit the place.

documentation,documentation,documentation. no wonder, we had to write massive essays in class! it is preparation for future complex cases like the ones i just had, and even future legal cases,haha=)

* * *

grateful weekender indeed, because apart from having a loving good natured husband who doesnt shout and verbally abuse me, i still have the mental health to function as a productive citizen/wife/friend in my day to day roles.

ahhh, this is the very reason occupational therapy is wonderful. i get to be thankful every single day  of where i am, of who and what i have, and of who i am.

thank you Lord. 

runaway train

 

“runaway train,never coming back, runaway on a one way track“…

i remember that song everytime i have a nagging feeling to run away and be incognito for a few days. yes, sadly, and in no way proud of, in my family, (teenage years), i was the runaway queen. not far nor really too absent, but i wanted to be somewhere somewhat at arms length.

i dont remember when the first time was i wanted to run aways but i guess, the “flight in distress signal” has been inculcated in my young subconscious when i saw my mother packed her bags and left my father for a few hours. my father obviously ran after her but on the 3rd time she did so, he left with her and they semi-eloped and moved to a different house (this was when my father and mother and us kids were living with the grand matriarch, THE LOLA).

everytime my mama comes home to my waiting papa there is that sense of longing and missing one another and it gives time for the other to reflect. you can see the the other has thought about the things that went on and realize the other’s worth and gives importance to the person they almost lost. this in hindsight, i think is the reason why in teenage years/early adulthood i resorted to running away.

although to say, i only did it twice, all the reasons were conflicts with family within family. coming from a family where the father’s word was the written rule, and the mother was the second in command, i was somewhat quite rebellious knowing that i was already the breadwinner (or majority of it) of the family for most of the time, it felt like i was only respected and needed when money is concerned, but when other things when decision making was tantamount to life-changing results, i wasnt consulted nor asked. it hurt and it grated until the time i couldnt take it. i left our house overnight to sleep in the office where i worked.

i came back the next day apologetic but none of the welcoming drama you see on telenovelas, instead a slap in the face and a bucket of painful words that being stubborn that i was, i should have left them dead and didnt come back. it hurt but i stayed because without me, where will they be? and most importantly,i wouldnt have been happy without them.

the second time happened with the same reasons, but i stayed away from home for a month, lived in a rented room, but the purse strings still attached to home. and made me realize, “what am i doing?”. i better go back and save money on rent and live back home no matter what the issues were, because, even if i was living away, i still was helping the family financially more than i was supposed to. its not as if, i can completely cut my ties from them.

i can laugh at this now, because in hindsight, these family dramas were all blown out of proportion by my ever dramatic self, that cant stand conflict and argument and bad feelings. id rather stay away and be hidden from view and be missed than be in full technicolour when all they see are the bad bits. as you can see, my growing up years were tinted with more happy than sad and whenever there were conflicts, i run and fly, and only come back when there is peace.  from all sides.

* * *

today, and actually, for quite some time now, i felt like running away.  running away from people who you know were just asessing you and waiting for you to measure up to their expectations (most often than not, requirements).  people who dont know that with all the blabber and holier-than- thou attitude, they are talking from their posterior orifices.

its not making me angry because its not something to get angry about. it just makes me feel sad.

sad that for some time, i was willing to give my heart and soul and life to them, yet, they are only willing to take it without the blood.  whatever happened to unconditional friendship?

or am i too naive? just because i dont set conditions on whoever becomes my friend, it doesnt mean everyone has the same basis for relationships.

it doesnt even mean i cant do what they ask me to do, but why expect, and loudly so?

im running away far from the maddening crowd.  and never to be seen again.

but can i hack it?

* * *

to myself:

i cannot change people, but i can change my attitude towards them. i should be tolerant, be more understanding. or else, i’m the one on the losing end.

but for now i’ll just have to get a ticket to that damn train.

everytime

..i look at this photo, i always have a nagging feeling of wanting a baby.

especially one that looks like him.

ahh, motherhood, i hope i’ll get there sooner.   

photo: my beautiful husband’s baby picture

i am dreaming of a place

where i am free and happy. where there are kinder and happier souls, and where there are more loving arms to embrace me.

wherever that may be, i have yet to go.

i will not be lost

i have the map etched in my heart.