The day I forgot my wallet, I learned a lesson: You are not necessarily who or what you think you are. It works both ways, up and down.
It started when I tried to pay for my shoe repair. My heart skipped a beat when I realized my wallet was not in my purse. When I was calm enough, I remembered that I’d left it in my gymn bag. Fortunately, the guys behind the counter were pretty understanding. They gave a receipt for me to pick the shoes up the next day.
I went back to my car, collected the parking bills. I sat in the car, sweating, counting how much money I had for dinner that night. I had the equivalent of $ 2,50. Oh, boy! What dinner can you have for such amount of money?
I decided to give it a try. To surprise myself. Forget sushi or roast duck. Not even a burger could I buy! Then I remembered an old hot dog stand. I spent a dollar and sat there. I was smart enough to carry a water bottle, so I didn’t have to worry about drinks.
I chewed my food slowly—good for my stomach—and did people watching. It was as if I was in the middle a slow-motion movie. Kids riding toy animals. A bunch of teenagers debating where to hang out and eat. Some ladies with glistening hairdos and purses.
I had planned to spend money in the mall. Passing and enjoying my single time alone. Feeling the power of shopping. But I found out instead that I could live without that powerful feeling.
Yes, I felt powerless. It’s out of my comfort zone. It’s a control issue, just like every other things in life. But you know what? I managed to turn it around. I chose to enjoy my evening despite being penniless. I chose to feel good eventhough I couldn’t bring home that cute digital camera I fell in love with. In fact, I felt I was the winner. I could control myself by postponing to buy that camera.
In a way, I said a thankful prayer that I had left my wallet that day. Then began the long drive home without my driver’s license....
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Kezia
I met Kezia in June 2008. Her nanny seated her on a chair in the hallway, right outside the teacher’s office.
“Miss, I want to go to school,” she said. “I promise I want to go to school.”
You see, she suffered from spina bifida. In Indonesia, education doesn’t come cheap. Even when you have money, the school has the right to turn you down when you show signs of special needs.
In her case, Kezia is so precious. She proved to me and the principal that she kept her word. She listened attentively, she did all her assignments, and she tried her best without complaining.
Her friends absolutely fell in love with her. They fought for the spot next to her in class. They even play hide-and-seek with her at recess!
Early in January, I noticed that her handwriting started to become sloppy. And her grades were not up there anymore. I discusses it with her homeroom teacher, and we agreed that there must be a serious problem. Little did we know that the problem was serious.
One Sunday in early April, Mom spoke with me when nobody else was around. They just returned from Singapore for a physical check-up. The results were not good at all. Doctors said her back’s curves are getting worse. So bad that it would snap due to her upper body’s weight. She need to have a surgery to get a pen inserted.
The doctors were amazed that she didn’t show any sign of pain. In a normal situation, anyone would cry out in agony with such a curved spine, they said. I laughed inside, bitterly. You haven’t met Kezia. She’s such a fighter, allright!
Mom’s story wasn’t finished yet. To my horror, I found it that day that it was a degenerative condition. Meaning, it would get worse as she gets older. That’s why the first doctor who performed a surgery when she was born hadn’t done it seriously. Obviously he’d thought it such a waste of his time. She would die soon anyway.
Mom told me that there’s a hole to drain her brain’s fluid. She’d been covering it with a plain gauze. It should had given her a nasty infection long time ago, the doctors said. It was true that 3 years ago she suffered from an infection so bad that it nearly took her life. Yet Mom prayed, telling God that she wasn’t ready to let her go.
What blew me was the feeling of helplessness. I never taught a kid with SB to begin with. This is a whole new area for me. And then the verdict that she wouldn’t be around that much longer just caused me anger and pain. I told her right away that we never knew when the time comes for any of us. My prayer is that she’d pass on peacefully and painlessly. Mom agreed, and tearfully told me she’d fight one more time.
She would get the surgery. Which means she needs money. A lot of money. She planned to write a book and publish it to help covering the cost. And she asked me if I could help finding a publisher. Absolutely. Anything for my girl!
And so began the search and the quest. I never realized how precious friends are at such a time as this. They help me withouth questioning. They gave me leads which were very helpful. A guy even called me back with a complete info on Gramedia!
I guess it is true that every cloud has a silver lining. I could feel God’s helping hand. With the mighty hand and outstreched arms he would help me. An He sent the right people at the right time. I still believe.
“Miss, I want to go to school,” she said. “I promise I want to go to school.”
You see, she suffered from spina bifida. In Indonesia, education doesn’t come cheap. Even when you have money, the school has the right to turn you down when you show signs of special needs.
In her case, Kezia is so precious. She proved to me and the principal that she kept her word. She listened attentively, she did all her assignments, and she tried her best without complaining.
Her friends absolutely fell in love with her. They fought for the spot next to her in class. They even play hide-and-seek with her at recess!
Early in January, I noticed that her handwriting started to become sloppy. And her grades were not up there anymore. I discusses it with her homeroom teacher, and we agreed that there must be a serious problem. Little did we know that the problem was serious.
One Sunday in early April, Mom spoke with me when nobody else was around. They just returned from Singapore for a physical check-up. The results were not good at all. Doctors said her back’s curves are getting worse. So bad that it would snap due to her upper body’s weight. She need to have a surgery to get a pen inserted.
The doctors were amazed that she didn’t show any sign of pain. In a normal situation, anyone would cry out in agony with such a curved spine, they said. I laughed inside, bitterly. You haven’t met Kezia. She’s such a fighter, allright!
Mom’s story wasn’t finished yet. To my horror, I found it that day that it was a degenerative condition. Meaning, it would get worse as she gets older. That’s why the first doctor who performed a surgery when she was born hadn’t done it seriously. Obviously he’d thought it such a waste of his time. She would die soon anyway.
Mom told me that there’s a hole to drain her brain’s fluid. She’d been covering it with a plain gauze. It should had given her a nasty infection long time ago, the doctors said. It was true that 3 years ago she suffered from an infection so bad that it nearly took her life. Yet Mom prayed, telling God that she wasn’t ready to let her go.
What blew me was the feeling of helplessness. I never taught a kid with SB to begin with. This is a whole new area for me. And then the verdict that she wouldn’t be around that much longer just caused me anger and pain. I told her right away that we never knew when the time comes for any of us. My prayer is that she’d pass on peacefully and painlessly. Mom agreed, and tearfully told me she’d fight one more time.
She would get the surgery. Which means she needs money. A lot of money. She planned to write a book and publish it to help covering the cost. And she asked me if I could help finding a publisher. Absolutely. Anything for my girl!
And so began the search and the quest. I never realized how precious friends are at such a time as this. They help me withouth questioning. They gave me leads which were very helpful. A guy even called me back with a complete info on Gramedia!
I guess it is true that every cloud has a silver lining. I could feel God’s helping hand. With the mighty hand and outstreched arms he would help me. An He sent the right people at the right time. I still believe.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Toby is such a brat. He gets what he wants when he wants it. He lives in a big, beautiful home in Sierra Madre, with a swimming pool in the backyard.
Toby is vey good-looking; in fact, he is handsome. He has thick, wavy walnut hair and pinky cheeks. He is tall and he has a good apetite.
asked Nancy, his mom, how she finally got the diagnosis. She told me she was teaching art at USC. She would run to the parking lot to pump between classes. Yet somehow she knew something was not right. Don’t take me wrong, she said. He grew up fine as a baby. She had him in her early 40s. He babbled just like any other toddler. Yet one day, within two weeks, he was quiet. It’s not like he was sick, though. He’s just, well, quiet.
So they sought professional help. The news came around Christmastime. He was diagnosed with autism. Well, Nancy said, that was our Christmas gift. As if, she continued, a mean angel came in the middle of the night, took our baby away, and replaced him with someone who looks exactly like him, yet I knew it wasn’t him. His eyes just weren’t the same anymore. In fact, he wasn’t here anymore. Otherwise, how can you explain why he doesn’t turn his head when I call him, yet approached the TV as soon as he hears his favourite jingle? How can he be unable to recognize me as his mom? I had to interrupt her right there because I still believe, deep down inside, that he still does. She just smiled, and offered me more tea. Nancy, how could you still be so sweet? Well, that’s my Tobber, she said lovingly. What else can you do?
Toby is vey good-looking; in fact, he is handsome. He has thick, wavy walnut hair and pinky cheeks. He is tall and he has a good apetite.
asked Nancy, his mom, how she finally got the diagnosis. She told me she was teaching art at USC. She would run to the parking lot to pump between classes. Yet somehow she knew something was not right. Don’t take me wrong, she said. He grew up fine as a baby. She had him in her early 40s. He babbled just like any other toddler. Yet one day, within two weeks, he was quiet. It’s not like he was sick, though. He’s just, well, quiet.
So they sought professional help. The news came around Christmastime. He was diagnosed with autism. Well, Nancy said, that was our Christmas gift. As if, she continued, a mean angel came in the middle of the night, took our baby away, and replaced him with someone who looks exactly like him, yet I knew it wasn’t him. His eyes just weren’t the same anymore. In fact, he wasn’t here anymore. Otherwise, how can you explain why he doesn’t turn his head when I call him, yet approached the TV as soon as he hears his favourite jingle? How can he be unable to recognize me as his mom? I had to interrupt her right there because I still believe, deep down inside, that he still does. She just smiled, and offered me more tea. Nancy, how could you still be so sweet? Well, that’s my Tobber, she said lovingly. What else can you do?
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