After my visit to the doctor, I went to the other compounds asking around if they’ve seen an orange cat. Nope, they said. So what I did was, out of desperation, I called pssssswwwssssss pssssssswwwwssssss as I always do with all the cats that have gone through me.

Then I heard it, the small meow. As I traced the source of that meow, my pssssswssss grew louder and the more the cat responded. After a lengthy search, I finally found Oyen, locked in one of the halls in the church next door.

He hasn’t eaten in three days! If I hadn’t been proactive in searching for him, he could have died with dehydration and starvation.

I knew he was alive and was stuck somewhere. He isn’t that mature enough to go gallivanting far, as males in heat usually do.

Cats normally just roam around within a 200-meter radius, as one dude here in this uni campus found out. He put a tracker on the strays cared for by a volunteer group called Cats of XXX (name of our uni). Then he plotted the whereabouts of those cats for xx months in different cat territories. So that’s how he found out that cat colonies have specific areas they guard as their own and they never or seldom stray within that 200-m radius.

Anyway, that background info made me hopeful Oyen is just somewhere near. Unless he was picked up by someone, I believed he can be found soon. I was right.

I feel sad for Ninja though. She is separated from her family and her carefree life here but it is for the best. She is going to be well taken care of by my friend who I know has been a cat lady for a long time.

A family friend messaged me that he and his wife are going to talk it over if they can adopt the remaining cats for their homestead some towns away from here. He hasn’t messaged back yet 😕.

For now, I know all the kittens are alive and thriving and I’m at peace with that. Two already found loving homes, the remaining three are still waiting to be adopted. But I think we will keep Tabby/Gorilla/Tiger. (Twin I keeps on calling her Gorilla 😑)

Since I’m on a roll this week, I continued with my quest to do the important stuff that I keep putting off—this time is oil change.

Good thing that I only choose to have mineral oil (every 5k km change) instead of the synthetic one (every 7k to 10k km) because I want my car to be checked more frequently. Because of that, the mechanic found that one of the oil plugs has lost its threads and must be changed. If it weren’t for the more frequent oil changes, I wouldn’t have caught it and I would have a very leaky car traversing SLEX and EDSA.

I thought this is the last day I would be checking in with a doctor. Nope. I would be passed on to a plastic/facial surgeon on Tue to excise the lump on my forehead. Need to see what it is really and while it is not a cyst because this lump is hard, it’s better to check if this is benign and not worrisome. I would have to ask for a leave of absence on the day of the surgery.

This is the price I pay for making sure that I’m healthy so my kids won’t be burdened with my medical issues later on. As my friend who I met yesterday said, I shouldn’t neglect these things. His mom’s breast cancer came back and had a mastectomy last month. She would go through a month of daily radiation treatment in June but thankfully she doesn’t have to go through chemo again. She said chemo just killed her body the first time around and it was so rough going through the whole series.

“Yeah, you should do you sono-mammogram every year, even if you don’t have a family history,” he said. His sister is starting her regular monitoring now. Their aunt died of colon cancer so they have to be doubly careful.

Hoping all things are ok with me so my kids have less things to worry about.

I looked for Oyen this morning outside our compound and asked the handyman around the church premises if he saw an orange kitten. No sign of Oyen.

I don’t smell any dead body around our garden so he may not be dead yet. I just hope somebody picked him up to adopt. I hope he is in good hands. 😭

I’m on my way now to QC to bring our void a.k.a. Ninja the black cat to a friend.

I had chased her around the garden and after an hour, I called all the cats to feed and finally got her.

She hasn’t cried yet and she is just inside the cage quietly resting. There was a poignant scene where tabby a.k.a. Tiger was looking at Ninja from outside the cage. As if they’re talking with Tabby assuring Ninja she is going to be all right. Maybe that’s why she no longer resisted and isn’t crying now.

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Poor Ninja. She’s not crying because she was terrified. When we took her out of the cat carrier, she started bouncing off the mirrored walls of my friend’s condo lobby. When I caught her, I could feel her very fast heart beat. I was afraid that she would die of heart attack (a vet high school classmate of mine said it happens).

When I drove off, my friend said Ninja, now called Brownie by her son, is hiding in the bathroom of her unit. I hope she recovers soon and won’t get too lonely. I gave her a bottle of prazinate so she can continuously deworm her new cat.

After leaving QC, I took C5 and dropped by Decathlon Pasig. I bought goggles for my girls (because Twin I said she prefers to dive with it instead of a diving mask but I think that’s better for diving pool). I wasn’t planning on buying swim goggles because I like my diving mask and it’s better for compression when you go deeper.

But then I saw this!

I tried the – 4.00 corrective goggles and—I can see!!! OMGosh I’m so happy! I don’t have to wear my contacts underwater.

But swim goggles like this is not safe at certain depths because of the pressure. It would make your eyes pop out of their sockets. Diving masks have enough space between your eyes and the glass, lessening the pressure on your eyes as you go deepeer. Some divers in a forum said the max he can dive with swim goggles is at 3.8m, one guy said max is 15m and not more than that.

I bought a waterproof pouch and a microfiber towel because I don’t have that. I need these while I’m in the boat during a dive.

My girls and I, with my brother’s sons, will be going to Anilao this Friday to cap off my week-long leave. 🏖️

So far so good. All the things I planned for my leave pushed through. Yesterday, I was able to see my new gastro doctor, then I bought new tires, have them balanced and aligned.

The worst thing that can happen is to have a car tire explode while driving to Anilao, which happened to me on my way to my Mom’s on Christmas Eve 2020 (or was it 2021?).

And finally, I had the car washed yesterday, after so many months! I was too busy to have it done since I keep chasing their shop hours.

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After Decathlon today, I decided to go to BGC to soak in civilization. Had coffee at Burgos Circle. Messaged a friend (former reporter) and we had an impromptu catch up until 8 pm.

Another productive day.

Oyen didn’t come home tonight. I think I was able to feed him this morning before I went out for my check up with my doctor. I hope he hasn’t been hit by a car since he wanders off farther than his siblings. The other kitties just stay within our compound. I also hope no snake bit and ate him up 😭 or a menacing male cat has gotten to him.

I went looking for him in the dark but he’s nowhere to be found.

Oyen come home!

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I can’t keep up with all the cleaning and cooking. If I cook in the morning, I would have to order out for lunch or dinner. I just can’t keep cooking three times a day 😩. Yesterday, I transformed leftover meatloaf into omurice for breakfast that turned into brunch. Then after church I ordered crispy liempo (for the girls) and siomai (for me) for dinner.

I couldn’t have fatty food because I have to keep my triglycerides and cholesterol down. Although my last bloodwork done showed I was fine (except for the pancreatitis in December), I still need to watch what I eat. I was supposed to have my blood test done this morning but I overfasted so I have to push it back for tomorrow. Aside from my gynecologist’s preliminary diagnosis of impaired glucose tolerance, my new gastroenterologist is also checking if my acute pancreatitis was just caused by too much alcohol (because of the high school homecoming drinking) or I really have an impaired pancreas due to worse causes (I hope not). So she added lipase to my long list of tests for tomorrow. If it comes back elevated, then I would have to do another CT scan. Same for the enlarged liver; she is checking if it’s alcohol-induced or I must do a radical change of my diet.

*Funny, I just checked if I had lipase test done to me in December and there was none. Same for the triglycerides LDL, HDL, etc. Geez, that’s why I don’t like that first gastro doctor 😡*

She said it’s not caused by bile duct blockage since my CT scan was clear. It’s not caused by gallstones since I no longer have a gall bladder. So it’s alcohol or high triglycerides.

I think it’s my alcohol abuse over the past 4 years, especially right after the breakup with the last ex. I was able to keep my triglycerides down after he was gone. I controlled red meat consumption after the blood work requested by my psychiatrist prior to medicating me showed that I had elevated triglycerides and bad cholesterol. Subsequent tests showed it went back to normal after refraining from red meat.

My prayer and fasting during Twin A’s hospitalization last year worsened my situation. Hyperacidity went from bad to worse because I just consumed fruit juices during my fast. Because in December I got in a very celebratory mood with my high school classmates—kablam!= Pancreatitis and enlarged liver/fatty liver. 

Fatty liver was also no surprise because I have PCOS. Ugh! PCOS also causes insulin resistance 😭

I really, really have to take care of my pancreas or else I may end up with chronic pancreatitis and then pancreatic cancer. 🤦🏻‍♀️

This means I would have to prepare separate food for myself. Fish, chicken, and veggies only.

Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Kim was a meme to me until today. Like he was the epitome of “there is always a better Asian than you” or “the Asian kid you don’t want your Asian parents to meet.” He is a Navy SEAL (sniper and medic), medical doctor, and now an astronaut before the age of 40. Without knowing his story, I assumed that he just went to become an overachiever because his parents were the typical Asian Americans who aren’t satisfied with their children just being mediocre, because they need validation to be accepted in white American society (well, I have half of family living in the US so I know their stories).

I was so wrong.

Jonny Kim is a survivor. His parents were first-generation Korean-American immigrants who brought so much emotional baggage with them to the US. His maleducated father (he didn’t know if his father even finished high school back in Seoul) was an alcoholic who was battling so many demons. At 18 years old, two months before high school graduation, Kim had to physically wrestle with his father to get the gun away from the latter because he was intent on killing his mother during one very bad drunken rage. The father managed to bludgeon Jonny with a dumbbell and as his head bled, the father probably woke up from his rage and fled. The mom called 911 and there was an altercation with the police and his father was killed.

He loved his father but he was deathly afraid of him. It’s a confusing emotion, which I guess some kids of alcoholic fathers bear (I do). Kim said he was a very angry man at that point but was weak and couldn’t stand up against the person he feared the most. He wanted to protect his mother and younger brother from his abusive father but he knew he couldn’t until he gets stronger and braver. As early as 16 years old, he knew college wasn’t for him, even though he was an A-level student, because he wanted to become a Navy SEAL to get rid of his weakness. So when his father died, what he felt was mostly relief. He didn’t have to protect his mother and brother from his father anymore but at that point he was just months away from going to Navy bootcamp.

He joined the most elite team of soldiers the US military has because of selfish reasons, as he put it. For others the reason was 9-11, for him it was his desire to be stronger to protect the ones he loved. Later he became a combat medic once he passed BUD/S because he looked for an easiest way in to join the special warfare team (“become a medic corpsman” was the advice). After he formally joined his team, Kim felt—for the first time—that he belonged, which he said something he didn’t feel while growing up. He said he didn’t belong anywhere.

His decision to become a physician (Harvard) stemmed from his desire to help his brothers in combat, so he can keep them alive. This came from his experience in Iraq where his buddy was hit in the face and as the medic, he was the one responsible for assisting the military physician (Army) on camp. Because he was just 21 years old at that time, he couldn’t overpower the Army doctor (something about the decision of the Army doctor that was wrong and it wasn’t the right treatment for someone with facial fractures and later realized the situation was way above his head), so they wasted precious time and they could have sent the casualty to the base camp for surgery much earlier. Kim’s buddy became blind and went through so many surgeries thereafter and died. Kim’s biggest regret was that he wasn’t able to do so much for his buddy, and while he was attending to him, another friend from his platoon was also killed in combat and he wasn’t there for him. He said he could have saved him (as a medic).

He said he doesn’t know if he would die for his country, but without a doubt, he would die for his brothers in combat. The brotherhood in SEALs pushed him to become a physician.

According to Kim, he didn’t really set out to become a doctor and astronaut—everything was “an accident.”

I’m not sure if Jocko Willink (the interviewer) was the platoon leader of Team 3 at that time but it seems like that. He said that during that fateful August when they lost many of SEALs (same with the Army) in Ramadi, Iraq, Jocko saw the very bloodied Kim kneeling, washing the blood off his friend’s helmet. It was a poignant image that stuck with him. Jocko was the one who wrote the letter of recommendation endorsing Kim to Harvard Medical School.

The point I’m driving at is, Kim’s motivation for achieving what he has achieved and trying to achieve is mainly his need to cope with/from trauma. It’s trauma response. His abusive childhood could have turned him into a bad egg but kudos to his mom for raising an upright man. I think him being raised in the church also helped a lot because his language (“the light”) was very Christian. He said he had so much anger in his youth but he didn’t hate his father. He understood why his father was like that. I don’t know if that understanding came with forgiveness but I think Kim already made peace with that.

And OMG, he is so humble. I think guys in the SEALs special warfare ops were taught to keep their head low all the time. Jocko, to his credit, could look as tough and egocentric as Joe Rogan but he is very respectful as an interviewer. He never cuts off his interviewees.

The first I read about Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Kim was on LinkedIn. I thought, is this guy for real???

Yes, he is very real. With so many traumas to bear.

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I know how it is growing up with an alcoholic father. I told my mother, not too long ago, that I think we his descendants have inherited his mental issues or whatnot. I told her my father has an undiagnosed clinical depression (at the minimum) or he was bipolar. He had so many demons, and his wild mood swings were scary. He admitted to me one time, towards the end of his life, that he was always drunk because it was the only time he was happy. That hurt my mother so much because it seemed like he was never happy with her.

But I think I get what he said. He used alcohol to numb his pain, he was chemically treating his depression with alcohol. He was trying to chase serotonin when he was drunk. Because you know, going to a psychiatrist wasn’t a thing then.

Speaking of doctors, I just saw my gynecologist last Friday and we talked about me getting off my meds and had been “clean” for two years. It sprung from my comment about being on the pill still despite having no partner because it regulates my hormones that go wild due to PCOS (so I can have a more regular menstrual cycle), I have less dysmenorrhea, and my mental state is much better than when I’m off it. My doctor agreed that it’s all part of having PCOS and she wants me to continue with the pills so my transition to perimenopause until menopause is smoother in the years to come. The conversation touched on the time I suffered from post-partum depression (PPD) that I didn’t tell her about because I didn’t know I should tell her at that time. She told me that those who had PPD are prone to having depression later in life. Just like when one had gestational diabetes is more prone to having full-blown diabetes later in life (like my younger sister).

For now she diagnosed me with impaired glucose intolerance (based on the labs I’ve shown her from the last time I saw her) and I would be going through a battery of tests this week while I’m on leave. She ordered me to have the whole abdominal ultrasound just to see if my pancreas and liver are still enlarged as my CT scan during my hospitalization in December showed. However, I will see a new gastroenterologist tomorrow so I would hold off with that ultrasound and see what she will say.

So anyway, about having a manic-depressive father who chemically treated himself by getting drunk and going into rage, I know the feeling of being so scared of a loved one that you could only cower in fear in your bed as he goes into his rage-filled drunken rants that could be heard around the neighborhood. I remember that one time that my brother had to shield my mother from my drunk father and my father almost punched bro but he caught himself in time. I remember another time I was thrown by him across the floor for being a difficult teenager (I threw a stapler against a mirror that broke into pieces).

I never knew what having a “normal” father was like. I harbored complicated feelings about him up to this day. I loved him and grieved when he died, but at the same time I was relieved that we no longer had to walk on eggshells around him. He mellowed during the last 5 years of his life, well because he only had 30% of his heart muscles working at that time after his massive heart attack. It was as if God had given him a few years to mend fences.

Along with it is the co-dependency relationship that enables this alcoholism. That’s the one I grew up with and as my first psychiatrist said, I learned co-dependency from my mom. My father’s narcissistic personality disorder is also the reason why I have this low self-esteem growing up. I always had to prove myself that I am worthy of love, that I always had to win him over, so at least he would love me. But no, it was always about him and my mother enabled that. We always had to adjust to him. This caused me to always seeking validation from the opposite sex. It is also the reason why I allowed myself to sleep on the floor in that tiny bit of space at the foot of the bed while the ex slept on the real bed because I thought lowering myself to that level, sacrificing my comfort, would make him stay.

That was so wrong on so many levels.

We arrived here with our entire lives packed in boxes on the 16th of May last year. For the rest of the month, I was navigating through boxes and crates of our stuff. By June, I was able to tame the chaos but we were still unpacking, sorting, throwing or giving away stuff. My staircase was still being finished, my laundry area was still dirt.

One year later, I no longer have boxes, things are off the floor now, but I still don’t have a vegetable garden. All the things I told myself I would be doing didn’t really materialize. I didn’t realize that all of my time would be eaten up by cleaning, cooking, and keeping chaos to a minimum. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Being near family is a blessing and a curse. Skirmishes arise, like the matter of foster cats, so it is a good thing my walls are thick and soundproof so it feels like a totally different world out here.

Giving my girls more independence is much easier here since they don’t have to depend on me driving them to places all the time. They can move about on their own as everything is walkable or a short jeep ride away.

I’m still getting used to this life. I’m not used to having to chase businesses, like salons and car wash places, as they close by 5 pm. I have forgotten that they keep provincial hours here; I’m so used to Metro Manila where businesses can service customers until 7 or 8 pm, restaurants can be open until 9 pm or 10 pm. There are no more jeeps at 7 pm here. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I don’t remember being bothered by this when I was still living here 25 years ago.

So far I’m loving it here. I didn’t realize the extent of my exhaustion of the city could be this bad.

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I don’t need to justify my existence.

I don’t have to work so hard…I may lose all the joy and playfullness in life, making it not worth living.

It’s explained here in this reel, which is a part of a longer podcast about validation and living a better life.

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A post shared by Dr Rangan Chatterjee (@drchatterjee)

This need for validation was the one that screwed me up in the first place. I sought validation from the wrong people and I ended up dying. I killed a part of me. However, the moment I chose me by never begging for someone to return or totally cutting off communication is a way to wean me from seeking validation from others. Otherwise, I would continue to be a doormat and be used over and over.

It’s the simplest of joys that could erase the need for validation. Choose yourself—make yourself happy.

I have seen, I have been
to places far and deep in my mind only to find
Comfort in your Strangeness

For all the mistakes and trials we’ve been through, we can only forge forward.