Last Tuesday, the nurse was supposed to come to the house at noon time to give me my shots. The results of my white blood cell count had just come in and it was normal, but my chemotherapy protocol requires that I have follow up shots on the fifth and sixth day of the cycle, to pull up my blood cell counts. By two in the afternoon, I was all dressed to go to Angela's graduation and the nurse had not yet come. Angela had already gone ahead to the Graduation Program and she wasn't expecting me at all. The teacher was already calling us that the parents were becoming restless and were starting to complain about the delay. At this point I was still debating over whether to go or not to go. At the spur of the moment, I decided to leave for the venue and ask the nurse to follow me there.
And so on our school's commencement exercises this year, and my daughter's graduation, I was sitting in a backstage corner hidden from everyone but quite happy to make it. Unknown to most that I was there, I watched the kids sing their farewell songs, receive their medals and pay tribute to their parents. I was in tears most of the time, proud of them all and just a little bit sorry for myself. Although my body was in pain, and my mask was constricting my breathing, I totally enjoyed the wide spectrum of emotions displayed and the bloopers behind the scenes. More than skills and knowledge, I realized that what Bong and I do is that we teach these six hundred or so children how to find their dreams and fulfill it. In the years to come, hopefully the number will become thousands. Isn't that such a privelege?
The nurse finally came in between the farewell speeches and I was able to get my shots in the dressing room. She asked me why I chose to be there when I should for once be selfish and sleep the afternoon off. I told her that of course I wanted Angela to know that discomfort will not keep me from being with her on her special day. And other than that, I wanted to see our graduating students, some hundred of them, and let them know by my presence that I have such strong faith in who they are and what they will be someday.
The shots might have boosted my blood cell count for this cycle, but the happy faces boosted everything else that mattered for my recovery.
When I finally came out of the shadows to pose for some photos, the kids one by one came to give me a wary smile or a quick hug. One little girl asked if I was already well because she prayed for me every night. The parents were teary-eyed and busy taking photos.
I may not have delivered any speech this year but hopefully my being there spoke to everyone as much about how I believe in them and how committed I am to see everyone succeed.
And so on our school's commencement exercises this year, and my daughter's graduation, I was sitting in a backstage corner hidden from everyone but quite happy to make it. Unknown to most that I was there, I watched the kids sing their farewell songs, receive their medals and pay tribute to their parents. I was in tears most of the time, proud of them all and just a little bit sorry for myself. Although my body was in pain, and my mask was constricting my breathing, I totally enjoyed the wide spectrum of emotions displayed and the bloopers behind the scenes. More than skills and knowledge, I realized that what Bong and I do is that we teach these six hundred or so children how to find their dreams and fulfill it. In the years to come, hopefully the number will become thousands. Isn't that such a privelege?
The nurse finally came in between the farewell speeches and I was able to get my shots in the dressing room. She asked me why I chose to be there when I should for once be selfish and sleep the afternoon off. I told her that of course I wanted Angela to know that discomfort will not keep me from being with her on her special day. And other than that, I wanted to see our graduating students, some hundred of them, and let them know by my presence that I have such strong faith in who they are and what they will be someday.
The shots might have boosted my blood cell count for this cycle, but the happy faces boosted everything else that mattered for my recovery.
When I finally came out of the shadows to pose for some photos, the kids one by one came to give me a wary smile or a quick hug. One little girl asked if I was already well because she prayed for me every night. The parents were teary-eyed and busy taking photos.
I may not have delivered any speech this year but hopefully my being there spoke to everyone as much about how I believe in them and how committed I am to see everyone succeed.
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