Because J has fallen in stature in my eyes, thinking about him hurts less now. Or maybe this is because I have been sleeping better that’s why I can talk like this now. Maybe if I start to become sleep-deprived again I would be back to being emotional again.
He used to be the only star in my night. Now that star has died.
Maybe I needed that jolt that I’ve experienced these past weeks to be able to realize that, hey, he isn’t really that special. And he is not a nice guy after all. I died several times over this person but he really can’t destroy me. I know who I am and what I am capable of. I may not be a CEO of a company or a high-flying executive that he could admire but I know I’m very good in what I do. I have everything that I needed. I have a home and I have love in the form of two not-so-little girls.
While he doesn’t have those.
Death of a star. He has now become a stardust.
To add to our worries, here comes another variant. We are going through the entire Greek letters while the Duterte administration is raping us wide eyes open.
To calm my frayed nerves, I ordered new cloths to make into masks for my friends’ children in appropriate kid sizes.
From Shopee. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
The weekend is coming soon. Let’s see how many I can make.
I went on leave yesterday to help my cousin, who is like my third sister, with–how do I term it? Her mom’s long goodbye? My cousin is not functioning well so I needed to be the one doing the rational thinking and the legwork because she couldn’t think straight. One thing is, she couldn’t let go. It hasn’t sunk in yet.
I told her the best option now is palliative care at home and make her mom comfortable. So I told her there’s no point in prolonging the stay in the hospital and we have to bring her mom home. We just need to set up a mini hospital there.
Which was not easy.
At a time of rising covid cases, looking for oxygen regulators is such an endeavor. I was told that Mercury is out of stock of O2 regulators because their supplier doesn’t have any left. I had searched for alternatives to Bambang, Sta. Cruz, Manila–the hub for mom-and-pop medical suppliers. Because I don’t wanna go there when it’s flooding all over the metro. Long-story short, I was able to buy an O2 regulator by going straight to the supplier’s house somewhere in Quezon City.
Now, the oxygen supply is another thing. I didn’t know that oxygen suppliers close early. Like 4 pm. And all I had with me was a 20-lb oxygen tank which I was told can last us the night. Wrong. It was only good for max of 6 freaking hours if the gauge was set up at 5! So I had to call people and begged to buy 50-lb tanks. One good-hearted guy took pity on me when I was almost crying and told him our oxygen will not last us the night and that my aunt was dying. So he relented and told his men to go to the factory and wait for us there so we can get 2 tanks, each one would only last probably 10 hrs or so. Each costs PHP7,000, just for the tank rental. The oxygen refill is another matter. We’ll just cross the bridge later today how to deal with supplies.
I had a long day and I still can’t sleep because of adrenalin. Driving around searching for medical supplies that are already dwindling. Hospitals that can increasingly cannot accommodate non-covid patients. Patients arriving at the ER, suddenly collapsing on the floor and dying.
I hoped to never use the PPE I had at home but unfortunately yesterday I had to.
Because my immediate concern was to get as much cash I could the quickest way possible to bring to the hospital, I totally forgot to buy surgical masks because we don’t stock up on it that much at home. So even if I have my PPE overalls, I was only wearing two cloth masks. I just hope I am not contracting anything.
So how do you tell a loved one that their whole world was dying?
You don’t.
My cousin dedicated much of her adult life taking care of her mom and could not bring herself do the paperwork for DNR. I didn’t point out to her that her mom’s heart already stopped twice, which may have already cut off the blood to her brain. And Lord knows what that could do. It still doesn’t sink in.
I just told her, we need to bring her home now. We will be running the hospital bill needlessly. That finally convinced her to ask the doctors if we can take my aunt home.
I’m still here in their house because anything can happen at any time. And she would be totally useless, which she already acknowledged she will be when the inevitable happens. I will be the one calling for the doctor’s medical certificate that will declare the probable cause, calling the funeral parlor or memorial service, arranging the filing of declaration to whatever government entities, calling relatives, arranging household concerns. Logistical issues. Like what I did when my father died. No one was functioning well enough to do those practical things.
Because I know how it is to die when grief kills you. You’re just blank.
I didn’t eat during the first few days after the break-up and after my dad died. It was only ice cream that sustained me because it was full of sugar, enough to fuel my cells, and it was the only thing that is a pleasure to eat because everything else tasted like paper. As I said in a blog entry after my dad died (and after my break-up with J) that every moment at that time was like floating in memories that were played back like a movie. And it doesn’t stop. It just goes on and on and on. The pain is excruciating that you want to just inflict physical pain onto yourself to take the edge off the emotional pain.
That’s how I know my cousin will not have human strength when death comes.
It is a heavy Monday. I was drowning in work. I again forgot to have lunch and only remembered to eat at 3 pm.
Then I said goodbye to a friend and colleague who has begun sleeping to never wake up.
How do you say goodbye to someone who is dying? What do you say? I was at a loss for words but I knew I needed to say something. His family says he still can hear as hearing is the last of the senses to go before one crosses the rainbow.
So we sent our recorded voice messages via FB Messenger or email. I told him I hope he realizes how much we love him and appreciate how he touched our lives. That I know he will continue fighting for our rights as journalists, as human beings. That he shouldn’t worry because we will carry the torch after he moves on, that we will fight his fight, that the fight will continue.
I always jokingly post on FB that I need him to keep me company trolling the trolls on Twitter.
I told him I hope he is no longer hurting and that he is happy with what he has now and what he has accomplished.
Today I lost another colleague to suspected Covid. It was too late when he got to the hospital. Those who are dying because of this disease are in my Facebook network. The dead now have names and faces, they’re no longer just numbers. Death has come closer to home. I have memories of them and with them.
The colleague from my old TV network is still in the hospital but thankfully he and his wife are not intubated. But their problem is the skyrocketing hospital bill.
My newsfeeds have become an online obituary of sorts. I’m tired of saying condolence. And I continue to have this fear that the people I love the most would contract this disease.
