Keeping mum

Silence please.

I once fancied monotony. I loathed not owning my time. I pursued what is customary. And where did it get me?

Stuck in an abysmal limbo. Can't go back. Can't move forward. I now have what you call routinary. I now have all the time I could possibly get. I now have oblivion. Yet I detest all of it too. Indeed as per The Little Prince, "No one is ever satisfied where he is."

I was asked why I no longer wanted to move up. Why I prefer going incognito. I couldn't atone myself. So I had to write it. :D

Not that I no longer have plans for the future. Believe me, I have a lot. Probably why I couldn't concentrate on one. :D It is now more of, letting everything fall into place. I know it is common knowledge that we perpetrate our own destiny. That we do what we make of ourselves. Yada yada yada. But it is becoming arduous. Running after dreams that wouldn't present itself. No matter how hard you try to create them instead.

Since the time life coerced me to decide what I will do, I have never really thought about it. Due to a series of unfortunate events, I realized what is essential. Now that I DO know what to do with my time, I can't seem to engineer a way to go about doing it. What I want to do is not what everybody else want and need. I can not incorporate what Wally Lamb said in She's Come Undone that, "Children are not your children. They are the son's and daughter's of life's longing for itself." For it may prove true to the liberal youth, but not to the lot who grew up thinking of ways to alleviate the life of kins. I for myself, don't want to end up misemployed and be debauch by the fallacies of institutionalization in general. I don't want to live the rest of my life chained by the rules of proverbial poverty. I don't want to be. But you can't help it. You can't help but heed to the society's norm. You can't help but submit. I am not someone who was born with the resources to aspire dreams so trifling for the likes of us. I have to live with that. :D

So there's no option but to meet halfway. Give the government what is due to them. And the rest give to one's self. Stay immobile until you're free to move. Keep mum until you're free to speak. Works for me. I wont exert myself and "spend a lifetime earning things that I don't need." In time, with perseverance, and maybe with divine providence, I can go after what I really want to do and have. It is not achievements, awards, reputation, or greatness. It is simply to be able to live  life to the fullest.

With that being said, I hope you could now fathom the logic behind what you may deem irrational and unwise. It is of course not for everyone. We have our differing priorities. I am not seeking to influence yours or anybody else's. I just hope you stand for what you believe in. :)

Surgery

I was floating. I could see myself being steered away by two white robed strangers on that elongated wheelchair. Seemingly unaware. Then I was lying again. I guess I was just overly imagining it. Especially when you're just lying there. Dazed. Seeing only the hospital lights pass through like some kind of scene from a movie. And I couldn't help myself from smiling like some crazed lunatic. Just earlier I was strutting along like some corporate girl on the catwalk. Busily chitchatting with a colleague while inside a jeepney. Talking about the exact, same, condition I am now in. How life bites sometimes. One time you talk about possible, rather far-fetched, circumstances and the next thing you know, you are in it.

I got home feeling sick. I was having severe abdominal cramps. I had them before and I have always thought it was only PMS. But this time, I just finished my monthly visit a week ago. So it couldn't be PMS still. It was piercing pain that I couldn't even get up. The pain was too much that I even puked. I was rushed to the emergency room. I went on various tests. Laboratory tests for CBC, urinalysis, stomach and abdomen ultrasound, trans-rectal and etc. I got there in the morning and I was only able to finally settle for a private room almost by dinner. Whew. What an efficient E.R?! By the end of the day I was informed I will have to undergo endometriotic surgery. What a shock! I got scared out of my wits! I just knew I had ovarian cysts. Multiple at that. But the largest one is too big (as big as a toilet paper roll) that it requires removal of the right ovary. I was asked why I haven't noticed the heaviness before. I'm not so sure myself. And at that moment, I couldn't even think clearly.

Scared? I was beyond scared. It was the next level after that. Which feels worse. As you are not openly voicing out your woes, cries, and unfounded paranoia. Like when you're at the brink of jumping off a fatal cliff. Saying, IT'S NOW OR NEVER. Even with the proper, clean, and sturdy set of equipment. Even with the best paramedics on standby. You still have to do the dive. (Minus the battle-cry of course) No shortcuts. And knowing anything can always go wrong. Even with the most calculated dive. And I think of myself. My sickly, weak self. With a mitral valve prolapse self. Will I really be sleeping it off? Will I really not feel unbearable pain? Will it really be successful? Filled by a drum of anxieties. Only and best thing to do is pray. And trust that everything will be all right. Because if not, I won't be able to do it with a calm demeanor. I would be in hysterics. I'd go berserk! Now I wouldn't want cardiovascular complication on top of it right? :)

As I was waiting to be shepherded to the world of the unknown, I saw a kid in his blue jammies being reeled in. (I wondered why he was not wearing the hospital gown or could be there's no size for him) He was around 8 yrs old. Not laughing. But not crying either. He was sort of feeling the room. With his parents fidgeting behind. My sister and parents were outside then. I thought no one other than the ER personnel is allowed in that part. Apparently, it still is. Beyond there is restricted. I realized, well, if that kid is strong enough for this, (Though I am not sure he actually knows what will happen to him) I should have a good chance of surviving right? It seems unethical but yes, the thought made me feel better. As the saying goes, a miserable being must find another miserable being, then he's happy. Thinking, we're all in this together. :D

Evidently, I didn't wake up in my hospital room. I woke up in the middle of the operation. I remember I was saying IT HURTS in a groggy kind of way. Hearing the sound of scraping intestines. Then somebody gave me a shot. Had a bit of groggy conversations until the next thing I know, I was out of the operating room after 3 hours, drifting in and out of sleep. Waking up with the pain saying IT HURTS in a groggy kind of way again. Until finally I was in my hospital room and slept for the next 5 hours. 

The rest is the recovery part. I got tons of visitors and well-wishers. Good-old-friends with their smiles and jokes. Really does help. Reminds you of the world you left behind for a while. I'm now in my third week of post-op. Feeling good? I suppose. But I know I will feel a whole lot better in the next few weeks. I'm still not without my usual unfounded paranoia and anxieties. Still battling day to day struggles. There are assurances of a new shot at life. However, still remains to be seen. :)