Pacemaker Breath

I wrote this almost a year ago. A day after I visited a sick relative whom I haven't seen for a long time until she was confined in a hospital near my workplace. Just re-posting it. I'm not in any mood to write a new blog that highlights my current experiences. I am really stressed out. I am just trying my best to survive each day for the sake of my kid whom I love very much.

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The last time I saw her, I was still a toddler she said. And I could only smile, trying to remember that time. My relatives are like the islands that compose this archipelago; they are separated from us but connected by strains of cells. People from the provinces - like my aunt - have to go to a better-facilitated city to get medical attention. That's what happened to her. She had to come to Manila just to have that cardiovascular operation. Where? In a hospital that Imelda Marcos - yes, that (in)famous shoe lady - helped support during her husband's reign in this humble country. But that's not my story.

As I look at my frail aunt after her two and a half hour medical procedure, I couldn't help but think about my own impending journey towards "oldness." The thought of aging has a way of reminding me how short life really is. The journey could make you feel as if you've been living for a long time. But, when you think about the passing of years, the countless good and bad experiences, the treasures of lessons collected, and seas of tears shed, you can't help but wonder about the transience of your existence. And as a visitor of my aunt, I have come to accept more willingly my being a visitor of this world, too.

It is set at 60. That's the pace of her pacemaker. The doctor said that my aunt should be shielded from magnetic objects. Even cellphone signals are said to be detrimental to her. She, along with her husband and my cousins, used to till farmlands. Her heart condition is said to be genetic. Yet, she seems to be recovering fast because of her active lifestyle. There is something about provincial life that enables people there to be healthier than urbanites. And I couldn't help but admire my aunt's courageous battle with an artificial lifesaver. Her children are not giving up on her - despite "stratospheric" hospital bills. My uncle is not giving up on her, too. It's really touching to see how lovingly he looks at her as she endures the pain of having her body be dictated to survive unnaturally. I guess for people like her, it is seeing their loved ones beside them and accepting their expressions of love that keep them alive. And the pacemaker is just instrumental in prolonging life.

As much as I wanted to stay longer, I couldn't do so because I had to get up early the next day. Yes, I've got work to do. I kissed her forehead, praying that I'd see her again. I can still see the smile she gave me as I stood beside her. It was like she's telling me to live well...love well...and be grateful for my blessings.

The hospital is one of my hated places on earth, except for the nursery. But last night, that place acted as a refuge for me. I don't know why, but it's probably the love that I've witnessed between my aunt and her kin that caused that feeling.