THE CANCER CONQUEROR

AGONY AND ECSTACY

2008-03-19T10:15:00.000+08:00

I was in the hospital lobby today, minding my own business as I waited for my turn at the CT scan room. I was waiting to have another check to see if the malignant tumor that was removed from my brain a month ago did not leave any unwanted trail marks. To be honest, I was trying to ward off discouragement and fear while I also struggled with the constant pain in my left ear. I guess, after so many lab tests, I still had not mastered the anxiety that thinking about the lab results normally bring.

I was hungry, impatient and worried, very close to a tamtrum. My husband and my son were trying to amuse me in vain.

Agony would have been too simple a word to describe my disposition.

As I wallowed in self-imposed misery, I looked up to see my cousin walk in. She sat beside me and proceeded to tell me that she had just found a lump on her breast and was there for a mammogram. Pray for her, a voice prompted me. How could I, was all I could think of. I nudged Bong and whispered to him to pray for her but he was talking to someone so she and I ended up talking about forgettable things. After a few moments of chit-chat, she stood up and proceeded to the mammography room. She came out a few minutes later to tell me that the doctors were on Holy Week break and so she had to wait five more days to have the necessary tests done. By then I could almost tangibly feel the fear that she must have felt upon having to wait longer, the same one I felt the first moment that cancer became a possibility in my life two years ago.

I put my arm around her and started praying for her, that God’s peace and supernatural joy would come upon her during the waiting time. I prayed for His healing touch for her body. I proceeded to share with her about God’s promises of healing and about His grace and great love for His children.

Having done all these, a supernatural joy came upon me in an instant. My faith suddenly rose up for my own healing. As God performed His work on the two of us, we both broke down in tears as well as hope.

This incident reminded me of a statement I once read, that when we are fighting a battle, if we will give out of our need, God will cause our answer to come to us quicker.

What ecstasy we have in knowing and receiving the wonderful grace of God as we give in our time of need. His word promises,

Pray for one another, that you may be healed.
James 5:16

ROUND THREE

2008-03-09T07:44:00.005+08:00

The unofficial biopsy result is out that the mass removed from my brain a few weeks ago was malignant. The good news is that it was well-defined and removed totally by my neurosurgeon. The challenge now is to keep our toes up and make sure that the growth of more tumors will stop.

The difference between my two operations is that on the first one, I was fighting the battle on intellect, logic and reason. This time, I am on full faith mode, that God has already orchestrated my total healing.

The first few days out of brain surgery, I could not think clearly. There were even times when I thought that I was seeing a garden of flowers in heaven right on the ceiling of my hospital room. Once, I had to write down my name and my kids' names and birthdays on a notebook for fear I will always forget them. Gradually, my memory started to come back and I realized that the handsome man sleeping on the couch by my bed is actually my husband (right, Sis. Beth?). I had been alternating between hope and depression for most of the time and ironically became focused and determined again once I found out that the tumor was malignant.

Many prayers have been said and many prophecies have been given. For sure, this experience has only brought me even closer to an understanding of God’s grace and an openness of His purposes in my life that are yet to be fulfilled.

One encouraging text message I received just now, which I feel really speaks to me in this new chapter of my life: Often the most trying times are the most beneficial to our Christian growth. Consider Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Remember Moses and the trials he faced. If you read the Scriptures, you will hardly find anything about the easy times. All the glories came out of the hard times. If you are really to be reconstructed, it will be in a hard time...at a time when you think all things are dried up.

Do stand with us in faith that this is the last frontier on the road to conquest for God's glory.

I will praise You, O Lord my God, with all my heart;
I will glorify your name forever.
For great is your love toward me,
You have delivered me from the depths of the grave.

Psalm 86:12-13

BRAIN SURGERY

2008-02-17T07:42:00.000+08:00

I will be undergoing brain surgery tomorrow to remove the suspicious lump that they just found accidentally, no, providentially on the right side of my brain. That in itself is already a great story.

The discovery was actually a miracle, because I did not have any symptoms to indicate that it was there. Please pray for my doctors tomorrow, that their hand will be guided during the operation and that recovery will be smooth and swift. Pray also for all other favorable results.

God’s word for me today is clear:

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter,
You will restore my life again;
From the depths of the earth you will bring me up.
You will increase my honor and comfort me once again.

Psalm 71:19-21

HOSPITAL BOUND

2008-02-09T20:41:00.000+08:00

Well, my bag is packed and in a few hours I will be hospital bound again. The brain scan results had just come in and there is certainly a 2 cm tumor there. I will be first treated for the edema in the brain that is causing my facial paralysis, partial deafness and immobility.

After that, we will worry about the tumor. Please continue to believe with us for God's miracle.

WAITING TIME

2008-02-09T10:50:00.001+08:00

Had my brain scan yesterday, which took more or less three hours. I was trying to fight the fear that being kept in an enclosure for a long period of time can induce, so I forced myself to sleep through the process. There was a brace over my forhead so at least there was no likelihood of any movement that would disrupt the scan.

Now the waiting time begins. I was told I will get the results in three to five days. I am forcing myself to tink positively and cling on to the promises of God in His word.

FACING A NEW MOUNTAIN

2008-02-07T09:24:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, was quite a heavy day for me. My old high school classmates had just started arriving from all over the world in time for our class reunion this weekend. Added to that, our school was in a frenzy over the althletic meet that we are currently competing in. When Bong told me that my surgeon, Doc Emil, was inviting us for lunch I was hesitant to add another entry into my full-packed day. But go to lunch we did.

During the course of the meal, Tutti, Emil's wife and an opthalmologist, pointed out to me that I needed to see a neurologist as soon as possible because she noticed that the blinking on my left eye was delayed. Actually, I did notice the discomfort on the eye, along with the sudden hypersensitivity of my left ear and frequent loss of balance during the last couple of weeks. I just falsely presumed that it was a side effect of my chemotherapy.

In hindsight, I think it was providential that we had that lunch date yesterday.

After swallowing all the food that I could from my plate, we proceeded to try to get an appointment with the neurologist at the soonest possible time. The two-hour wait for the appointment seemed endless.

Finally, at half past four, I settled into the doctor's clinic. As it turns out, I have some sort of paralysis on the left side of my face and all fingers seem to be pointing to a spread of the cancer to my brain. When the doctor made this pronouncement, my morale seemed to crash down to my feet as quickly as the blood rushed to my head all over again, for the millionth time this past year. He proceeded to tell me about probabilities and the risk factors but I was only half listening as my mind was shuffling around for something solid to hold on to.

After the doctor's visit, I had to make arrangements for a brain scan. Having only one hospital where I can have it done here, I learned that I now have to wait a couple of days more for the hospital to accomodate me for the procedure. Having nowhere else to go, we decided to go to the prayer meeting in church. There, everyone gathered over me to pray for me and cry with us as we face yet another challenge in this long and arduous road that we are taking.

Today, I choose to face this new mountain with continued faith that God is in full control of my life and that He has great plans for me. As I wait for the scheduled scan and the doctor's appointments that are sure to follow, I am overwhelmed with peace that all things will work out for my good, whatever that may be.

Please remain in prayer with us, for faith to move this mountain and for God's deliverance yet again.

I tell you the truth, if anyone says to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him.
Mark 11:22-24

GIVING BACK

2008-01-19T11:33:00.000+08:00

I just came back from visiting two sisters today. One of them, the older one has just finished her chemotherapy and is getting ready to begin her month-long radiation treatment for stage 3 breast cancer. The younger one, has just been recently diagnosed with breast cancer in situ. Their cousin, a friend of mine, had asked me to pay them a visit and give them a little hope.

For over an hour, we chatted about hair loss, diet and life with cancer. This time, I was the one on the listening side as I just allowed them to talk about their struggles and little triumphs. Of course, I gave them little tips and anecdotes that hopefully will encourage them to keep on fighting.

Giving back is a very empowering experience.

TRIPLE CELEBRATION

2008-01-14T17:30:00.000+08:00

This week we will be celebrating three important milestones:

on the 15th, will mark my first year as a cancer survivor
on the 17th, I will celebrate my 41st birthday
on the 18th, Angela will have her 14th birthday.

Thank God for the wonderful miracle of life!

To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore!

Jude 1:24-25

SERENDIPITY AND WABI-SABI

2008-01-13T10:19:00.000+08:00

As I celebrate my first year anniversary as a breast cancer survivor in a few days, it is quite fitting that I serendipitously stumbled upon the concept of wabi-sabi.

Pared down to its barest essence, wabi-sabi is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death. It celebrates cracks and crevices and all the other marks that time, weather, and loving use leave behind. It reminds us that we are all but transient beings on this planet-that our bodies as well as the material world around us are in the process of returning to the dust from which we came. Through wabi-sabi, we learn to embrace liver spots, rust, and frayed edges, and the march of time they represent.

Nothing exemplifies the Japanese culture more than tea. Tea, in its current form, was born out of a medieval society rife with terrible warfare, yet the samurai were willing to set aside their rank-and their swords-to become equals within the tearoom.

In learning tea, we're constantly reminded that every meeting is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion to enjoy good company, beautiful art, and a cup of tea. We never know what might happen tomorrow, or even later today. Stopping whatever it is that's so important (dishes, bill paying, work deadlines) to share conversation and a cup of tea with someone is an easy opportunity to promote peace. It is from this place of peace, harmony, and fellowship that the true wabi-sabi spirit emerges.

A year ago, I would not have believed that I could come to a level of acceptance for the things that I have had to deal with: appreciating beauty through the ravages of a mastectomy that confronts me in the mirror everyday; being optimistic about a future that is marred by worry and fears that only cancer can bring; finding life through the physical discomforts and fatigue that accompanies a lengthy treatment.

Carrying the burden of things with grace and dignity: wabi-sabi. Finding God’s love in the midst of pain and adversity: wabi-sabi. Viewing life with joy and vibrancy amidst illness: wabi-sabi. Standing still in peace and faith as the storm blows outside: wabi-sabi.

Wabi-sabi. What an amazing way to describe the sense of balance that I find myself in today.

The voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

Marcel Proust

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn,

whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.

Helen Keller

MY 2007 IN REVIEW

2007-12-28T10:24:00.000+08:00

Where have the 365 days gone?

They seem to have flown past me in a flurry of events, emotional highs, physical pain, heartwarming milestones, and great memories in between.

Anyone watching on the sidelines would think we had a terrible year. This time last year, we were about to bury my mother who had died after 100 days in a coma, due to a hospital error. Immediately after burying her, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Invasive Lobular Carcinoma that had spread to my lymphatic system. It was the deadly triple (estrogen, progesterone and her2neu) negative type, the one that according to doctors does not respond very well to treatment. I was sentenced to a probable survival rate of fifteen percent in the next five years.

Just as I was about to start with my chemotherapy treatment, my dear friend and well-loved mentor, Emy Porter passed away due to cancer. We had watched her fight valiantly and bravely and so her demise was a particularly devastating as well as scary thing.

In Feburary, I began with my chemotherapy treatment. As we fumbled our way through six aggressive cycles, I struggled with the rages of physical discomfort as well as depression. Other than that, I tried to decently mourn the tragic and seemingly unjust death of mother, whom I had taken care of all these years.

In July, we proceeded to Cebu for six weeks of radiation treatment. As soon as we arrived there, my husband's dad and bestfriend, my father-in-law also passed away.

I trudged along the thirty days of treatment in Cebu, mostly alone as my husband had to stay in Iloilo to take care of the kids.

Thinking that at least our days would be easier as soon as my treatment in August was over, we received another blow when we found another growth that forced me to resume with six more cycles of chemotherapy in October.

Difficult work problems also crept up on us and left us shaken and unsure. Added to that were several more challenges that had compounded because of our situation.

Yup, looking back it did seem like a pretty bad one. But looking inwards to what happened in our hearts, it has been a liberating year. For one, I have proven that the bonds that tie our family together are very, very strong. If at all possible, I have come to love them even more deeply. Secondly, we have learned to filter the unnecessary concerns from our lives in order to focus on the more important ones. Third, I would like to think that my heart has become more compassionate, forgiving and generous towards the people around me. Last and most importantly, I have come to a profound understanding of God’s unconditional and total love for me as His child.

Somehow, this was also the year when our family became closer, the children more mature. I became the grateful recipient of God’s overflowing provision which sustained my family through the piling medical bills. I became more attuned with people’s kindness and sincerity. I found many long-lost friends who got in touch with me as soon as they found out what we were going through. I made many new and rich friendships too along the way.

We leave 2007, then, not as battle-weary soldiers but as true conquerors. We have seen the amazing resiliency of spirits that are strengthened by God’s grace and by the love of our dear friends and family who solidly stood by us through our ordeal.

Thank you very much for all your prayers and encouragement. Here's to a prosperous and triumphant 2008 for all of us!

Launch slideshow of my 2007 review here.

SURVIVOR CHRISTMAS

2007-12-24T18:34:00.000+08:00

Today I am celebrating my first Christmas as a cancer survivor. Beyond the hustle and busy schedule, I can actually see some little but meaningful changes in me.

For one, I have a better appreciation for family gatherings. Preparing for dinners and parties are no longer an obligation in order to make everyone happy. I must say that now I can actually enjoy these get-togethers for what they are meant to be: time to catch up on each other’s lives and to bond.

Secondly, It’s easier to buy gifts now without fretting over the price tag. Saving up for a rainy day is no longer my number one mantra. Although I must say that I have spent quite a fortune this year on my treatment, the fear of lack is no longer controlling me.

Third, I think I really am a much more generous person now. Truth be told, I used to give gifts as payback for services received or as plain tradition. Now, I just enjoy giving, period.

What was once a stressful series of family and community events have become for me a wonderful time to share, give and love.

Merry Christmas to me!

A CHRISTMAS FAREWELL

2007-12-14T17:49:00.000+08:00

So long, my friend.

I know that throughout all of my life, I have shared many Christmas memories with you. But this time, I must say, I have to let go of you. I’m sorry to say that cancer has forced me to make this painful decision, but we both know it’s for the best.

I can’t begin to imagine enjoying Christmas dinner without you on my plate but I have to be satisfied with fruits and vegetables this time.

I will miss your crispy skin and tender ribs, not to mention your liver sauce.

I do hope that somewhere down the road, I can celebrate Christmas with you again.

FUN AGAIN

2007-11-20T21:57:00.000+08:00

Most of today was spent watching my daughter play volleyball with the high school varsity. As I watched her move agilely across the court, two things struck me:

First, I realized that 25 years ago, I was at the very same stadium, in the very same competition, playing the very same game with my high school team.

The combination of nostalgia and pride was great food for my soul.

Second, she seems to be more carefree these days. She no longer looks over her shoulder every few minutes just to check if I'm okay.

She is having fun again.

I don't exactly know why but these two thoughts really made me happy. My relationship with her has never been better because of what we have just gone through as a family.

ANOTHER DOCTOR'S VISIT

2007-11-20T19:39:00.000+08:00

I had another visit with my oncologist today. Before going up to her office, I saw one of my co-survivors waiting in her jeep because she could not go up the flight of stairs. She was waiting for the doctor to just check her right there in the parking lot. I found out later that her cancer had already spread to her bones and the metastasis was causing her spinal column to be compacted. She could not yet afford the medication for metastasis that I am also taking, so they are trying to buy time.

I waited for my turn in the lobby, saddened that she could not afford the treatment but thankful that I could. I must really say that I am really blessed to be able to afford all the medications I have had to take, without any insurance at that. This got me to thinking that someday I hope to be in a position to help other cancer patients who have no money to pay for their treatments.

A few minutes after my oncologist finally arrived in her clinic, I was called in. She did the routine check on my collarbone and breast area for possible new growths. We also discussed the need for me to have the mastectomy of my remaining breast and the hysterectomy in February, at the latest. She checked my blood tests and other laboratory results. So far, I'm clear til the next visit.

Well, that is that.

TWO ROUNDS WITH XELODA

2007-11-14T21:32:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow, I will complete my second cycle of Xeloda. The instructions from my oncologist say that I must take two tablets of it, an hour after eating breakfast and another two after dinner.

I'm getting the hang of planning my meals around it, and around the other medications I have to take.

After being more vigilant about my physical condition this past year, I can pick up the side effects that are already silently creeping in.

I am becoming more easily fatigued.

Occasionally, I wake up to tingling and numbness on my fingertips. At least, I do not have the more severe symptoms: peeling, blisters, and swelling...yet.

Sometimes, when I stand up I am overcome by dizziness and a pounding heartbeat.

Will it get better, or will it get worse? I don't know.

FAREWELL, MY FRIEND

2007-11-11T12:00:00.000+08:00

I received a text message today to inform me that one of my co-survivors in our support group has succumbed to breast cancer. I was just talking to her last week, when we were both waiting for our turn in our oncologist's clinic. She was telling me during our short time together that everytime she thinks of giving up, she changes her mind when she thinks of me.

This is the first time that someone I had walked with in the months of my treatment has passed away. It is a very sobering and saddening thought.

Farewell, Gemma, we will really miss your generous smile. You fought the good fight. Please intercede for us who remain here. See you, my friend.

DULCE'S LAST DANCE

2007-11-09T23:19:00.000+08:00

Today's headlines was quite a shocker.

In the early hours of Wednesday morning, a dumptruck passed a red light in one of the intersections of Manila and rammed into a family van, killing one and injuring three others. The most prominent passenger of the family van was Senator Rene Saguisag, a controversial political figure in our country, lawyer of deposed Former President Joseph Estrada.

But, no, his presence in the accident was not what shook me. It was the fact that his wife, Dulce, also a prominent political figure, was the lone fatality. She was a ten-year breast cancer survivor.

How can one begin to find meaning in such a tragedy? Here was a woman who had fought hard to rise above the ravages of breast cancer for ten years, only to die in a tragic road mishap. It appears so senseless. Her son was supposed to get married next month.

I remember the night before I checked into the hospital for my biopsy last January, my 16-year old son had told me at the dinner table: You have to make it, Ma, because I need you to be with me on my wedding day.

The promise I gave my son that night has, on many days, kept me going. During the times when I need to find a vision to focus on, I think of being around when my children celebrate their important moments. That is why I am so sad that Mrs. Saguisag will miss that milestone in her son's life.

The mysteries of life indeed.

In the over-all scheme of life, and death, apparently we are all made equal. If anything, this incident only reiterates to me that the question we should ask should not be how long we live but how well we live each day that is given to us.

The manner of Dulce Saguisag’s death showed the lengths she would go to protect her husband, according to their eldest son, Rene “Rebo” Saguisag Jr.

“As you can see from what happened, she absorbed everything to save my father,” the 35-year-old lawyer told the Philippine Daily Inquirer, parent company of INQUIRER.net. “By and large, that’s how their relationship was.”Partners even on the ballroom floor, Rene and Dulce Saguisag were married for more than 30 years.

“Rene will be lost without Dulce. That’s their relationship,” said Sen. Joker Arroyo, a longtime friend of the couple.

(Quoted from "She Saved the Last Dance for Him" by DJ Yap, Tarra Quismundo)

CHRISTA'S PHOTO

2007-10-26T08:10:00.000+08:00

Today marks the end of my first cycle of oral chemotherapy for metastatic cancer. Although there are no signs of any recurrence, my oncologist has recommended that I undergo this regimen because of the high grade and stage of my breast cancer.

After completing the prescribed six cycles in a few months, my oncologist recommends that I have a complete mastectomy.

This issue about the mastectomy has been cropping up time and again because my doctors could not seem to agree on the option that I should take. Two conservative doctors say that I should wait a while. The aggressive ones say that I should have done it yesterday.

Truth be told, I was having issues about the mastectomy for a while but while surfing through the internet a few days ago, I found this amazing photo that really struck me. It speaks volumes on hope, self-worth and inner joy.

Christa Slotbloom is a breast cancer survivor who continues to chronicle her journey through eloquent and honest photographs.

Seeing her photos have changed my perspective entirely on a lot of things.

TOUCHING VIDEO

2007-10-16T08:33:00.000+08:00

This amazing video commercial for the featured cancer foundation never fails to bring me to tears.

BREAST CANCER AROUND THE WORLD

2007-10-12T17:32:00.000+08:00

According to this Time magazine feature, the Philippines Age-Standardized Rate per 100,000 is 46.6.

SECOND ROUND

2007-10-11T20:27:00.000+08:00

Today, I begin my new chemotherapy regimen.

It will be primarily anchored on Xeloda, a drug that is intended for cancer that has metastasized to the bone. The whole regimen will cover eighteen weeks consisting of six cycles, a whole spectrum of drugs and vitamins. According to my oncologist, because of the characteristics of my cancer, lobular carcinoma, she has to apply treatment on the cellular level. She is thinking that my cancer must have began ten to fifteen years ago.

I am a little wary of the side effects that are bound to come, but over all, I feel good that I am doing something to control the situation.

This new treatment is preventive in nature, to eliminate further any chance of a spread of the cancer to my bones. I like the idea that we are being aggressive in covering all possible avenues to ensure that any wayward cancer cell hiding within my body will be targeted and that cancer will not come back.

Just like anything in life, there are two options that I can take in my cancer fight: conservative or aggressive. After all these years, I have now found out that it actually feels good to be aggressive.

I am worked up and eager for the next round.

I am in faith that I am steadily moving towards a cancer knock-out.

ON STRESS AND BREAST CANCER RISK

2007-10-09T08:41:00.000+08:00

I found this interesting article in the internet today. I am aware that medical practitioners and researchers have always raised an eyebrow towards the claim that stress can contribute to breast cancer risk. However, my own instinct and intuition tells me that stress did play a big part in the development of my cancer.

I could not totally erase from my mind that on March 2006, biopsy results on my two-centimeter or so lump stated that it was benign. Regretfully I wasn't able to have the lump immediately removed because of the subsequent events in my life which culminated in the hospitalization and tragic death of my mother. Ten months after, my lump had grown to six centimeters and had developed into Stage 3 cancer.

STUDY LINKS STRESS TO THE RISK OF BREAST CANCER
by Clair Weaver

STRESSED career women may be at higher risk of developing breast cancer, according to new research.

Those working in the most high-pressure jobs have been found to be 30 per cent more likely to be diagnosed with the disease, which is the biggest female cancer killer among Australian women.

A study of more than 36,000 women, published in the journal Epidemiology this month, reveals a link between workplace stress and heightened breast cancer risk.

The finding is controversial, as past research and doctors have ruled out stress as a significant risk factor.

"Women with both low job control and high job demands had higher risk of breast cancer than women with high job control and low demands," the study found.

Breast cancer is on the rise in Australia, affecting more than 11,700 women a year and killing 2600, but survival and detection are also improving.

Sue Carrick, head of research strategy at the National Breast Cancer Foundation, said it was difficult to measure and compare stress levels.

"What is important to note is that although we have a much greater understanding of some risk factors for breast cancer, we still do not understand the causes of the majority of breast cancers," she said.

She said the biggest known risk factors were getting older, with the disease peaking in women aged 45 to 69, being overweight, post-menopause and drinking four or more standard drinks a day.

Hormone replacement therapy, having children later in life or not at all and a family history have also been identified as risk factors.

To mark the start of Breast Cancer Month, the foundation has announced $10 million in funding to go towards finding better treatments for women with advanced breast cancer.

The Job Strain And Risk Of Breast Cancer study found no increased risk in women who worked part-time. It has been suggested stress may raise levels of estrogen, which can boost the risk of hormone-dependent breast cancer.

Sydneysider Amanda Maltabarow, 49, was in a high-powered marketing job when she was diagnosed with invasive breast cancer five years ago.

She has been taking the drug Tamoxifen since having a breast, ovaries and lymph nodes removed.

"I definitely think stress was a contributing factor," she said.

"I was a mum, I had a career, I was saying yes to everything, trying to be a corporate wife and splitting myself in 50 ways – I never relaxed and just enjoyed my life and family."

A TRIBUTE TO THE PINK LADIES

2007-10-08T20:03:00.000+08:00

Last weekend, I joined my first breast cancer walk as a breast cancer survivor. The walk was a gathering of several medical companies, surgeons and government agencies to raise awareness about breast cancer in our city. Before that event, I guested in several local television shows to talk about my recent bout with cancer treatment.

The thirty-minute walk culminated in a work out session which was facilitated by the local Department of Health. Once again, I could not help but stand aside in admiration at my co-survivors, my sisters-in-arms, and how they have all risen above their individual situations.

No doubt, the highlight of the day for me was meeting Mary Grace. She is a very young cancer survivor, only 24. As soon as she was inducted as a member of our organization, everyone just trooped to her and gave her a hug. She could not help but shed a few tears. And we could not help but choke back the tears for her, so young and supposedly yet, so full of dreams.

Meeting such a young survivor elicited such a myriad of thoughts and emotions from me...compassion for a very young woman, a teacher at that...love for the older survivors who wordlessly embraced her into their lives...a little fear for my own young daughter...vast thankfulness to God for the ocean of grace that has flowed in my life. I left that encounter a little more enriched in an unexpected way.

Cancer has intruded in all our lives, in the devastating and consuming way that only cancer can. To some degree, we have been robbed of our innocence towards death, but instead of becoming tainted everyone seems to have become more child-like in their faith, because of the experience.

Our message is clear: life can be fruitful, even while fighting cancer.

CRITICIZED FOR CANCER

2007-10-08T13:18:00.000+08:00

Today was one frustrating day. Being the wife of a minister, I know that many people expect me to be at the giving end most of the time. I wonder if I was too idealistic to think that being in treatment for cancer excuses me for a while from certain expectations.

Before going into my treatment last February, I had asked certain people to resolve whatever they needed to resolve with me, so that I could then focus on trying to get well. Of course, it helped that my oncologist told me, if there was anytime in my life that I needed to think of myself first, there would be no better time than now.

Who would have thought that some people would think that I was just making my cancer an excuse to be selfish. In truth, all I could think of these past few months has been finding the strength to get up each day, and find every possible means to walk with my family through this ordeal with hope for the future.

It is a very sad and hurtful thing to be criticized because I was trying to give myself time to get well. It is a hateful thing to say about me and my husband at this difficult time and I am quite angry and troubled.

Thankfully, our purpose in life is not determined by what people say about us. Thankfully, I have learned to be angry and productive at the same time.

Thankfully cancer has taught me to value the right things in life.

"Never believe that your fate has been misplaced. It can never disappear because it's everywhere around you. Your family, your friends, you classmates, your life. Live life as if you weren't living for anything. Take your time. Tomorrow's still coming.”

Patrick Mabilog

LiFe accg. tO dragoNflies: the Final ePistle on Misplaced Fate- the Coup de Grace

RESULTS JUST IN

2007-09-25T16:08:00.001+08:00

Results have just come in from the pathologist for my third biopsy.

Cyst status: BENIGN

HAPPINESS IN ILLNESS

2007-09-22T05:29:00.000+08:00

There is a storm raging outside and finding this interesting article that was published last August 14, 2007 in the New York Times, is like a refreshing drink of hot coffee:

THRIVING AFTER LIFE'S BUM RAP
By JANE E. BRODY

Can getting cancer make you happy? For Betty Rollin, survivor of two breast cancers, there’s no question about it. In her newest book, “Here’s the Bright Side,” Ms. Rollin recounts:

“I woke up one morning and realized I was happy. This struck me as weird. Not that I didn’t have all kinds of things to be happy about — love, work, good health, enough money, the usual happy-making stuff. The weird part is, I realized that the source of my happiness was, of all things, cancer — that cancer had everything to do with how good the good parts of my life were.”

Her realization is hardly unique. I have met and read about countless people who, having faced life-threatening illness, end up happier, better able to appreciate the good things and people in their lives, more willing to take the time to smell the roses.

As Ms. Rollin put it: “It turns out there is often — it seems very often — an astonishingly bright side within darkness. People more than survive bum raps: they often thrive on them; they wind up stronger, livelier, happier; they wake up to new insights and new people and do better with the people around them who are not new. In short, they often wind up ahead.”

This is not to suggest that battling cancer is pleasurable. Frustration, anger and grief are natural reactions. Cancer forces people to put their lives on hold. It can cause considerable physical and emotional pain and lasting disfigurement. It may even end in death.

But for many people who make it through, and even for some who do not, the experience gives them a new perspective on life and the people in it. It is as if their antennas become more finely tuned by having faced a mortal threat.

As a woman with incurable ovarian cancer recounted this spring in The New York Times: “I treat every day as an adventure, and I refuse to let anything make me sad, angry or worried. I live for the day, which is something I never did before. Believe it or not, I’m happier now than I was before I was diagnosed.”

Sometimes such changes happen to those who live through the cancer experiences of others. My mother died at age 49 of ovarian cancer, and I went off to college thinking that every moment was precious, to be used productively both for personal betterment and for what I could offer to the world. At 18 I wrote a speech on preparing one’s own epitaph — about being able to say that however long your life, you lived it fully and made it count for something meaningful.

Now, 48 years later, as people I know succumb to intractable illness or sudden death, I am even more attuned to the need to savor every moment and do whatever I can to make the world a better place and nurture relationships with friends and family.

Michael Feuerstein, a clinical psychologist and author with Patricia Findley of “The Cancer Survivor’s Guide,” was 52 when he was told he had an inoperable brain tumor and was given a year to live. But Dr. Feuerstein didn’t die — he survived extensive debilitating treatment and gained a new outlook.

He wrote: “I now realize that I am fortunate. Now, after the cancer, I find I can more easily put life in perspective. I re-evaluated my workload, opting to spend more time at home. I take more time for what matters to me most: my wife and my children and grandchild. I also allocate time to better understand cancer survivorship from a scientific point of view, so I can help others in my situation translate this work into useful answers to the question, ‘now what?’ I am optimistic about the future and excited to leave my unique mark on the world.”

A SECOND LIFE

When it comes to leaving a mark on the world, Lance Armstrong takes first prize. After surviving treatment for testicular cancer that had spread to his lungs and brain, Mr. Armstrong went on to win the Tour de France a record seven consecutive times.

“There are two Lance Armstrongs, precancer and post,” he recounted in his 2001 memoir, “It’s Not About the Bike: My Journey Back To Life.” “In a way, the old me did die, and I was given a second life.” He created a foundation to inspire and empower people affected by cancer, helping them live life on their own terms.

“Cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “I don’t know why I got the illness, but it did wonders for me, and I wouldn’t want to walk away from it.”

Likewise, Fran Lenzo wrote in the magazine Coping: “Breast cancer has given me a new life. Breast cancer was something I needed to experience to open my eyes to the joy of living. I now see more of the world than I was choosing to see before I had cancer. The things that once seemed so important, like keeping a clean home, are less important. My priorities now are to enjoy everything around me to the utmost. Breast cancer leaves me no time for personality conflicts, arguments, debates or controversy. Breast cancer has taught me to love in the purest sense.”

FINDING HAPPINESS

There’s no question that cancer, whether curable or ultimately fatal, changes lives. It forces some people to give up careers and may jeopardize their ability to earn a living. It leaves some people disabled and unable to pursue athletic or other ambitions requiring physical prowess. It leaves some people unable to bear or father children. Yet, time after time, even people who have lost so much find new and often better sources of fulfillment.

Recurring cancer and the extensive treatment it required forced Dr. Wendy Schlessel Harpham of Dallas to give up her beloved medical practice. So she turned her sights to writing, producing book after book that can help people with cancer achieve the best that medicine and life can offer them.

Dr. Harpham is a 16-year survivor of recurrent chronic lymphoma. In her latest book, “Happiness in a Storm: Facing Illness and Embracing Life as a Healthy Survivor,” she states: “Without a doubt, illness is bad, yet survivorship — from the time of diagnosis and for the balance of life — can include times of great joy among the hardships. You can find happiness. Chances are the opportunities for happiness are right in front of you.”

She suggests creating a “personal happiness list” to help you remember favorite pastimes and reintroduce former delights into your life. Or perhaps you might want to explore activities that in your precancer life, you thought you had no time for, like studying a foreign language, traveling for pleasure or spending more time with friends.

“You might need to explore different ways of seeing yourself and the world around you,” Dr. Harpham writes. “In doing so, you discover new types of happiness waiting to be tapped, such as the happiness of sharing invigorating ideas and nascent hopes with new friends, or the happiness of knowing love in a whole new way.

“Happiness in a storm,” she concludes, “is never about enjoying your illness but embracing your life within the limits of your illness, and figuring out how to feel happy whenever possible.”

FLOODS, RAIN AND SURGERY

2007-09-20T05:07:00.000+08:00

Amidst the constant rains and flooding in our city, I had my minor surgery on Wednesday, to remove the new lump that I just discovered on my remaining breast just this last Monday. The whole procedure took about two hours. I just had it done in my doctor's clinic, with local anesthesia. This was a personal request from me as I have grown quite tired of the usual hospital protocol of having to go through the Emergency Room and about a dozen inquiring residents who all have the same set of questions to ask.

The interrogation alone can be trying, to say the least.

My surgeon, Dr. Emil Salcedo just talked me through the operation, with a myriad of topics from mountain bikes, to siopao, to church politics. I was trying not to laugh too hard at his usual and somewhat satirical take on such things. I tried my best not to look at the incision he was working on, just a few inches below my chin, but the lure of the grotesque was just too much. I would sneak a look once in a while, but not too long as I always turn queasy at the sight of blood.

Every time I would hear the snip of the scissors, I would recite the Panatang Makabayan in my head, to distract myself from the morbidity of its implications.

By the time I knew it, Emil was stitching me up. I went my way to the mall with my daughter who needed a new pair of shoes. After that we proceeded to the prayer meeting to kick off our church anniversary this year.

A half-centimeter lump was removed, with another half-centimeter of surrounding tissue all around, which I immediately submitted to the pathologist for biopsy. I will get the results next week.

ONE DAY AT A TIME

2007-09-18T09:58:00.000+08:00

Once there was a man who would go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean."

"I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."

...

Today, I had another visit with my good doctor. I had just gone through a series of laboratory tests last week and all of them came up clear except for one. My breast ultrasound showed that I have a new lump on my other breast.

I was just trying to explain to a dear friend my sense of humor amidst this apparently daunting task of conquering cancer. Because she always knew me as one who was fretful and a perfectionist, the carefree attitude and positive outlook that I display these days are, for her, out of character. Having just dealt with the other lump I found a few weeks ago, she could not help but wonder if this would ever end…the searching, the finding, the removing of every little lump that grows in my body. How could I find happiness amidst all these, she asked.

I remember once, when Oprah Winfrey was asked how she runs five miles a day, she said, "I recommit to it every day of my life."

I think happiness is like that.

Every day we have to renew our commitment to assertively pursue happiness. It won’t just come to us. We have to make it happen, regardless of whether one is certain of a long life ahead or not. It is a choice we make to see the beauty of the things around us or focus on the little missing details, to run after the grandoise dreams or be happy with each moment with our loved ones.

It's a decision we need to make every single day.

Ironically, I can say that in between my doctor's visits and treatments, I have found my true pleasures. Now, everyday that comes is a new day to worship God..lavish love on my family...show kindness to whom I meet...find comfort in my husband's warm hand...play with the little kids from Nursery class...laugh at my friends' funny stories...savor that banana que I bought from the corner...spend that hard-earned peso shopping with Angela in SM City.

I have learned to find joy and own it as mine.

Tomorrow morning, I will go to the hospital for about an hour to undergo another surgery. But after that I will have the rest of the day to embrace laughter and hope again.

Much like the starfish thrower, I am doing it one at a time and that is how I think life should be lived, after all. One day at a time.

Until the days turn to weeks, the weeks to months, the months to many years.

DISTRESS AND SURVIVAL

2007-09-16T19:16:00.000+08:00

Below is an article that I found on emotional wellness and cancer. It has offered me empowerment as I proceed with my journey.

MedWire News: Breast cancer patients with low levels of distress survive longer and have lower levels of disease recurrence than those with high levels of distress, study findings show.

Mogens Groenvold (The Department of Palliative Medicine, Bispebjerg Hospital, Copenhagen, Denmark) and colleagues report that emotional function and fatigue are significant independent predictors of recurrence free and overall survival, after accounting for biological variables such as menopausal status, estrogen receptor status, tumor biology, lymph node status, and adjuvant therapy use.

The researchers analyzed data from 1588 breast cancer patients who filled out the EORTC (European Organisation for Research and Treatment of Cancer) QLQ-C30 quality of life questionnaire 2 months after their primary operation.

They measured psychological distress using the emotional functioning and fatigue items, with severity rated on a score of 0-100, where 100 shows highest level of functioning.

Information on clinical and pathological variables including time to recurrence and survival time was obtained from the Danish Breast Cancer Cooperative Group register. Patients were followed-up until March 2005, with a median follow-up time of 12.9 years.

An emotional function score of 83-100 was associated with a relative risk of 0.80 for recurrence-free survival and 0.81 for overall survival, compared with an emotional function score of 0-75. Meanwhile, a fatigue score of 33-100 was associated with a relative risk of 1.32 for recurrence-free survival and 1.23 for overall survival, compared with a fatigue score of 0-22.

Groenvold and colleagues comment in the journal Breast Cancer Research and Treatment: "The finding that both fatigue and psychological distress were associated with the risk of breast cancer recurrence and death is intriguing and raises conceptual and methodological questions."

The researchers propose two possible interpretations. Firstly, patients who do not experience psychological distress maintain a strong immune system that subsequently leads to better cancer resistance, they suggest. This they refer to as the "mind-body model." Alternatively, a lack of psychological distress may reflect mental as well as physical robustness. This they refer to as the "robustness model."

Irrespective of the mechanism underlying the negative effect of distress on breast cancer outcome, the researchers state that effective interventions against psychological distress and/or fatigue should be "available for all breast cancer patients to improve their quality of life as an end in itself."

SOURCE: www.breastcancersource.com

BOUNCING BACK

2007-09-02T09:33:00.000+08:00

After a series of consultations with my doctors, we have all agreed that I will wait a little longer and observe the lump I recently found on my mastectomy site. It is too soon after radiation treatment to go under the knife. The risk of the wound not healing well is too great. Thus, I have no choice but to wait out the recommended four more weeks and just observe the little nuisance closely.

In the meantime, I just came across an article about resilience. It defines people with resilience as those who harness inner strengths and rebound more quickly from a setback or challenge. These are the people who have the ability to say to themselves, "OK, this bad thing happened, and I can either dwell on it or I can learn from it."

I have decided that this setback will not hinder me from believing that I am already healed. It will not keep me from declaring God’s goodness in my life. It will not hold me back from celebrating life with zeal and hope.

If I overcame a lump before, I can overcome another one again.

HERE WE GO AGAIN

2007-08-27T07:20:00.000+08:00

Here we go again on this rollercoaster ride.

A few days ago I found a new lump where I had my previous one. The feel of it sent shivers down my spine and weakened my knees with fear. For a moment there, my vision darkened and it felt like my heart fell to my toes. I was trying hard to remember all the encouragements I received, all the brave words I uttered but they almost eluded me.

The doctor has advised me to observe the new lump for two more weeks. He seems somewhat hopeful that it is just an effect of the radiation. In the meantime, I choose to focus on God's promises.

Thankfully, it is just a ride and I know it. It's a momentary play of emotions and sensations but I know that below me is solid ground where I can firmly plant my feet on.

RECLAIMING LIFE

2007-08-19T07:29:00.000+08:00

My chemotherapy is done and so is my radiation therapy.

I am getting ready to go to church with my family, just as I have been doing for many Sundays of my life. Today, it has sweeter meaning because I have a better understanding of what family is, what love is, what Christianity is, what life is all about.

It is so ironic that it was when I was at the lowest point in my life that I understood all of these things and embraced them passionately.

I know the road ahead is tough. I never meant to trivialize cancer and what it has done to me and my family, to other people's families. I am sure there will be days of doubt and uncertainty.

Days of pain.

Days of wondering why.

Thankfully, I now have a deeper knowledge of God’s grace and His pleasure to bless me. I am home with my family. I am surrounded with relatives and friends who care for me and want to see that I get well. I have learned to value myself more.

I have all I need to reclaim my life.

THE CANCER SHOW

2007-08-11T22:05:00.000+08:00

Today I was interviewed for The Cancer Show. It's a documentary about cancer survivors in Cebu that was put together by a dear old friend, Bien Fernandez. I was interviewed by Meanne Alcordo Solomon, herself a survivor.

My segment was supposed to be an insight into the life of a survivor who is currently undergoing treatment. I came in with my usual hat and scarf and was asked to remove them towards the end of the show, to show my spanking new hair growth.

In the second half of the segment, the directors asked to interview my husband on his perspective as the spouse of a cancer patient. Bong was very candid and I could not help but notice some of the audience wipe some tears from their eyes.

THE CANCER BLOG AND MY 15 SECONDS OF FAME

2007-08-11T19:24:00.000+08:00

It’s safe to say that I have had three therapies for the treatment of my cancer: chemotherapy, radiation therapy and "blog therapy." Among the three, the last one has provided me with the most satisfying relief while coping with this rollercoaster ride I’m now in.

In the beginning, this blog was meant to be nothing more than a personal journal for my children and future grandchildren to read. However, weeks into my treatment, friends would send me text messages asking how I was, and so this blog became my way of updating them about what I was going through.

Eventually, as post came after post, and as days turned into months, friends, relatives and strangers alike started telling me how they were touched by the stories that I had to tell. At this point, blogging had evolved from being my way of venting out feelings into sharing anecdotes and insights with hopes that someone else other than me would find healing and hope through my daily encounters, struggles and triumphs. My cancer journey had become not just my own, but everyone else’s who cared to share the walk with me.

Today, my other blog, Canvas and Manuscript and I are featured at www.thecancerblog.com in an item entitled Cancer Survivor Blogs Life as a Canvas. I don’t know where this will take me and the stories that I have told here, but if its my way of sharing “to the ends of the earth,” then so be it. I am more than grateful that I have been given this opportunity of telling the world that, among other things, God is good and life can be beautiful and meaningful during, and after cancer.

A DOSE OF RADIATION

2007-08-08T21:39:00.000+08:00

As I am nearing my thirtieth and last dose of radiation, I decided to take a video of the whole seven-minute-or-so process. The session normally begins with the nurse retracing the markers on my chest and axilla. When the lines have been redrawn, the nurses spend some two to three minutes to make sure that the red tracer lights are perfectly aligned with the lines on my chest. After that, they all leave the room and the shots of radiation are administered from two separate angles.

Next week, on my last week of radiation treatment, the radiotherapist will give me direct radiation shots on my mastectomy site for five days. I heard somewhere that this new practice of administering a concentrated dosage of radiation on the last week of treatment actually reduces the possibility of a recurrence even more.

CANCER STORIES AND HAPPY ENDINGS

2007-08-03T19:58:00.000+08:00

For so long as I can remember I have always loved reading books.

Books have always been a major part of my life. They have brought me to unknown places, introduced me to some of the most interesting people that I would otherwise never meet. I have always been thrilled by how words would plunge me into images of formidable stone castles, alien territories and of course, the anticipated happy endings. Love stories, ghost stories, espionage, history…I love them all.

These days though, I am reading "books" of a different kind.

At the Cebu Cancer Institute, every morning for the past twenty days, as I patiently wait for my turn at the radiation room I have been "reading" people.

Occasionally, I "read" about the young wife who is brought in by ambulance every morning from the Seaman’s Hospital, and her husband who has taken a leave from his work to be with her. In the first few days of my treatment, she would be brought in on a wheelchair with a smile for everyone. Lately, however, she has been wheeled in on a hospital bed with an increasingly dazed look on her face. Her husband who is always clad in a baseball cap and shorts, is equally dazed as he holds up the bag of blood attached to his wife. I have heard the whispers that her cancer was too advanced when it was discovered and that they are now taking desperate moves. I can just imagine him endlessly mulling over the irony that he spent long months away from her so that they can build a happy future together. Only to come home to her now this way.

On other days, I "read" about a doctor’s wife whose breast cancer has just recurred, this time on her bones. She is a little older than me and everyday she comes in with her mother. I "read" about the mom who is a nutritionist and has much advice to give us. After all, not only is she a dietician but also a doctor’s wife. She could spend hours and hours talking to all of us about the wonders of broccoli and the wisdom of going to a surgical oncologist and not just a surgeon. What touches me though is that every so often, when no one seems to be looking, she would stare lengthily in space with a blank look and tears in her eyes, slowly shaking her head in what must be regret that she didn’t know enough to prevent her daughter’s recurrence.

Some days, I "read" about the middle-aged school principal who has come from Iloilo for treatment for advanced Lung Cancer. Her husband has been a smoker all these years and the secondhand smoke is what must have brought this upon her. I "read" about the absence of any sort of blame that she might hold on her husband, understanding how deep her love for him must be.

Most recently, I have been "reading" about the new patient from Iloilo, who is a nurse. She first had breast cancer four years ago but, optimistic person that she is, she was sure it would not return. Just this summer though, she found another growth on her left breast. Before she could complete chemotherapy for the second cancer, she found another recurrence on the first site. She told me the other day that someone told her that she has the gift of healing and she attributes her cancer to a failure to complete a session on Pranic Healing that she once conducted. Or something to that effect.

I "read" about how cancer has changed these people’s lives. I "read" their words, their thoughts, their silent prayers. I "read" their trials, their disappointments, their dreams. I try to catch the underlying fears behind the brave fronts…the unspoken mother’s love for a sick daughter…the young husband’s silent resolve to give his wife the best possible care, never mind that he doesn’t know where the next thousand pesos will come from…the stories behind the empty looks that cross everyone’s face, every once in a while.

As I read these stories, I watch for every opportunity I get to hopefully change as many endings as I could. I tell these people about God’s faithful provision in my life. I tell them about the father heart of God and how it is not in His character to inflict pain on His children. I tell them about the true gift of healing that is God’s pleasure to give. I tell them that it’s okay to put ourselves first this time, and that our families and concerns will take care of themselves. I tell them to go ahead and receive openly the love and support that other people give. I tell them that a positive attitude can make so uch difference. I am hoping that as they change their outlooks and seek God as their healer, they will find their own healing. After all, I always loved happy endings.

Everyday, so much stories unfold before me. Everyday, I leave that place a little more enriched by what I have learned. Everyday, I thank God a little more for my ever-growing assurance that He is in control of my life.

Ten more days of radiation therapy, and reading lives, to go.

CELEBRATING LIFE

2007-07-03T21:00:00.000+08:00

For many months before today, I would turn the thought over and over in my head, of how I would break the happy news of a clear bonescan to everyone. I was eagerly looking forward to it because somehow, I had that confidence that all things would turn out well. I was excited with the thought that everyone would be a part of my answered prayer.

Today, as I finally held the scan results in my hand, the words floated before me: No scintigraph evidence of bone metastasis. These were the very words I had been eagerly looking forward to breaking to everyone. However, the passing of my father-in-law earlier in the day seems to have clouded over the thought, and much more so the joy of it.

I fell to wondering, how is it that I could not find the joy that I was so looking forward to share, upon knowing that my cancer had not spread? Could it not be possible that I mourn the family's loss while at the same time celebrate my gain? As my kids could not help but ask, is God giving all the bad days in a downpour so that we can have only good days after? If we have another loss immediately after, does that make us destined to be like the family of Job?

I pondered upon all of these things as I walked into the Cebu Cancer Institute for my radiation treatment this afternoon. I was pretty much lost in thought when I rounded the corner at the end of the hall where two little girls accidentally bumped into me. About three or four years old, their head gears gave them away. Their colorful scarves were edged with synthetic curly hair and they had no eyebrows, just like me.

I took a seat on one of the corridor benches and continued watching them. They were giggling as they badgered each other, while being spoonfed with instant noodles by their mothers. Apparently they were waiting for their turn in the chemo room. I was amazed that these two innocent beings could find amusement and joy in such a place. Even in a place of pain and discomfort, they could find a reason to laugh and play. While many of the older patients there with me dragged their feet around and were often lost in their thoughts, these two thin, bald, wonderful little girls were having a blast! I felt so much compassion and admiration for them. At the same time, I was immediately overwhelmed with gratitude that my children are all well and they need not go through what these two little girls have to. I realized I still have so much to be thankful for and laugh about.

Holding this thought while holding the tears down, I then felt a different kind of joy. I began to understand in a meaningful way how joy is not always borne out of laughter and happy circumstances. True joy is instead borne out of a deep understanding that even if days are not sunny, even if things don't go the way I plan, it does not change the fact that God had proven Himself faithful to me, and that I am blessed. Joy is not a feeling after all, but a lifestyle of gratitude and hope.

In the midst of death and loss, I choose to rejoice that God gave me a new lease on life.

MY HALF-TIME REPORT

2007-06-24T19:54:00.000+08:00

Right now, it feels like I am in between the two halves of a basketball game. The first round of treatment through chemotherapy has just ended and I am gearing up for the second round with radiation treatment that will follow in the next week.

In the meantime, the lights are out and the cheerleaders are entertaining the crowds. I am catching my breath, making up for some lost time and making the necessary connections that will make me breeze through the next half.

I am working on my healthy lifestyle. Eating well, sleeping long enough, exercising. And maybe the most important in the whole scheme of lifestyle change, I am learning to let go of extraneous things. I am choosing to say no to responsibilities that cause me unnecessary stress. If something comes up and I get a bad feeling inside, I pass it up. If I offer to help someone and she doesn't want it, I don't feel bad anymore. I simply let it go.

I am enjoying the mundane things in life and savoring the moments I have with family and friends.

Being able to choose my priorities, my commitments, my concerns makes me feel happier, healthier, more in charge of my life. It's good for my health, it is good for my soul.

ROOTS AND WINGS

2007-06-14T20:59:00.000+08:00

There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots, the other is wings.
Jonas Salk

Yesterday, my son went off to college. Armed with his bags, his papers and my heart, he eagerly settled into the dormitory building that would be his new home. It is almost laughable because his university is only two hours away from where we live, but for me, it seems like a continent away. I know that he will be coming home most weekends, and yet, somehow, this new chapter in his life seems to be the beginning of his eventual flying away from the nest.

When I was younger, I thought that parenting was all about nurturing, caring, building up. I thought that my primary duty was to shield my children from all emotional and physical discomforts. No one told me that it would actually be a lifetime process of having to let go. I still remember the anxiety when, the first time I held him in the hospital nursery, the nurse came in to tell me that it was time to return him to his crib. From letting him go then, to watching him take those first steps knowing that he is likely to fall, to now sending him off to college, I have learned that parenting after all means letting my kids learn how to maneuver through life on their own.

There were days when his trials and heartaches seemed too big for his little shoulders, but I knew that I had to stand aside so that he will learn. I remember one night a few months ago, when we found out about my cancer, from my room I listened to Kiko cry himself to sleep. I wanted to go to him and comfort him, to promise him what he wanted to hear, but I knew he needed this time alone with God. I knew that I had to simply let go and let him find himself, and God's grace, in this adversity.

Today, he is again full of hopes and dreams, excited for the days ahead.

I would like to think that we taught him the best that we can. We gave him responsibilities at a young age. We complimented him when he did something right and disciplined him when he broke the rules. Now, the time has come to trust that we have done what we can and taught him well enough to make it on his own. I am hoping that his roots were cultivated deeply enough to keep him grounded in God's Word and His purpose. Also, that his wings were strengthened enough by the values and lessons we taught him so that they can take him as far as his dreams will go.

Gone forever are the days when he would rush to me and hug me after an afternoon in preschool. I remember savoring the “doggy” smell he inevitably took home with him everyday. In those days, I was the center of his universe. As the years went by, his world grew bigger and bigger and I knew my importance would become less and less of a need for him. It is a difficult thing to let go of the strings a little more, but it is something which I have to do.

Protecting him is no longer under my control. Forcing him to memorize his multiplication table and to eat his vegetables seem so trivial now. From now on he’ll be making all his own choices and I will continue to support him. But my dreams for him will have to take a back seat to the dreams he has for himself.

I will just have to trust that the world will be kind to him, and if not that he will be strong enough to fight for what should be his.

SOME OF THE HAPPIEST PEOPLE ON EARTH

2007-06-08T19:40:00.000+08:00

I entered the room full of strangers, a little uncertain of what to expect but definitely sure that I wanted to be there. After filling in a form and getting my pink ribbon at the registration table, Bong and I found two empty seats on a nearby table. We settled down to observe the people who were clustered in several small groups around the room. They were all animatedly talking and many of the women glanced at me with a smile, as if they have known me for years.

When dinner was served, a tall lady approached me with a smile and took the seat beside mine. She introduced herself as Fely. I am sure she wanted to move around and talk to her friends but it seemed like she had decided to sit with me that night and make me feel welcome. We began talking and I found out that she was first diagnosed with Stage 2 Breast Cancer almost ten years ago. After a radical mastectomy, she underwent chemotherapy for four months. The years that followed saw her have another mastectomy, four surgeries, a metastasis to her bones, and another round of chemotherapy. Today, she is still taking medications and is still uncertain about her health but quite happily working as one of the regional heads of a government office serving indigent people.

After dinner the program began. There were some testimonials, an induction of officers, some speeches, a slideshow. Then, I and three other women were called to the front of the stage to give our pledge as new members of Bosom Friends, a breast cancer survivors’ support group in our city. After the swearing in, the President congratulated us and I couldn’t help but think of what Bong was likely to sardonically say: is that Congratulations for being a new member or for having breast cancer?

As I made my way back to my seat, an old lady of about seventy stood up, grabbed my hand and gave me a long hug. She held me at arms’ length and kept smiling at me for a few moments more, with tears in her eyes. Then she put her hand on my cheek. I was suddenly moved to tears as I totally understood and embraced the compassion, encouragement and affinity I am sure she wanted to express to me. I suddenly had a deep longing for my mother to hug me and all I could do was say to the sweet lady, Thank you.

About to take my seat, Fely called me aside and introduced me to Araceli, who unconsciously fixed her wig as she held out her hand to me. She told me that she just sneaked out from the hospital for a few hours, where she had already checked in for her chemo cycle the next day. She was first diagnosed with Stage 1 Breast Cancer four years ago but a few months ago she found out that the cancer has come back, this time a Stage 3.

At the end of the evening, all the Bosom Friends formed a big circle in the middle of the room, hands held together. Then they started swaying to the music as they sang, If We Hold On Together. I looked at all of them a little self-consciously while imagining Kiko and Angela rolling their eyes as if to dare me to join in the song. I did join the chorus, kids and found myself enjoying it.

After the song, we all posed for a final picture. After numerous hugs and exchanges of cell phone numbers, I started to feel like I was surrounded by some of the happiest people on earth. This bunch of women, ranging from their early forties to their late seventies, came from all walks of life…a bank employee, a dean from U.P., a housewife, a pastor, a doctor, a retired principal. Some were recovering, some were in treatment, some were terminally ill. I could not help but marvel at what they all shared in common: an infectious zest for life, a hopeful optimism, a sincere willingness to share and an attitude of thankfulness and acceptance. Never mind that each one had many more medical issues and physical challenges to surmount, along with the occasional lop-sided breast prostheses and very uncertain outcomes.

Now I am one of them.

CANCER MOVIES TO WATCH

2007-05-28T06:49:00.000+08:00

My Life Without Me: This is about a young working mother named Ann with two daughters and a husband. She lives with her family in a tiny trailer in her mother's backyard. After she collapses one day she goes to the doctor who gives her grave news. She tells no one. Ann's emotional journey leads her to unexpected places and gives her life new meaning: the tender moments, the volatile emotions she must keep inside, the recognition that she has the power to understand, examine and fully live her own life.

Sweet November: Each month free-spirited Sara starts a new relationship. Her task is to take a month to make one man become a better person, and then she moves on. While November rolls around and Sara targets a busy Tycoon, she does not plan on falling in love. But they do, and as a result, Nelson learns the painful secret behind the brevity of Sara's romances.

The Family Stone: A comedy with heart. This story is about an annual holiday gathering of an unconventional New England family. Before the holidays are done, relationships will unravel while new ones are formed, secrets will be revealed and the Stone family will come together though its extraordinary capacity for love.

The Doctor: Jack is a doctor who has it all. He is then diagnosed with throat cancer. Now that he has seen medicine, hospitals, and doctors from the patient's perspective, he realizes there is more to being a doctor than surgery and prescriptions.

Fine Things: Bernie Fine, a is a home loving New Yorker. One day, while walking the floors he meets Jane, a little girl who has lost her mother. When they find her mother, Liz, Bernie is enchanted with her and they become involved and eventually marry. Liz becomes pregnant, but their joy is short lived as after their son, Alexander, is born Liz is diagnosed with Leukemia.

Wit: This is a story about a woman who isreceiving treatment for ovarian cancer. She is in the hospital bed showing what life is like for a cancer patient, most likely going to die from her disease, to hold on to her wit.

Stepmom: Jackie and Isabel have nothing in common--one is the ideal mother, the other is struggling to be any kind of mother--until circumstances force them to share a family and put aside their mutual hostility for the sake of the children. They discover how precious life, love and the ties that bind them really are in this tale about the intricate circumstances surrounding what happens when a man's new wife learns from his former wife that she is terminally ill with cancer.

A FEW FLOWERS AND CANCER

2007-05-18T22:43:00.000+08:00

Today I walked back through my life again, retracing my steps for the thousandth time since the day I knew I had breast cancer. It has become some sort of a right of passage for me, as I decisively move on to wellness. It is not because I am running out of time, but because now I could appreciate and use time in a new way, and I want to empower myself for personal growth, fulfillment and balance ...whether long or short the future may be.

Ten years ago today, I know exactly what I was doing. I was painting. I had a one-woman-show scheduled for the end of that year, and I was frantically working towards coming up with thirty artworks to display. I was trying to enjoy the process of making paintings that bore my soul while feeling the pressure of the critics’ write ups that would come the day after the show opened.

It seems like a lifetime away now, my days as a painter. In the succeeding years of teaching, ministering, raising my kids, growing our school, it seemed like the most logical thing to do was to give up on painting. After all, being an artist required too much of me. In creating art, I had to be true to myself and yet be brave enough to receive what my audience had to say. It was like setting myself up on a platter for all the world to scrutinize and cut up. And so, because I was not sure of myself, the joy of filling up a canvas with colors, of watching the pigments come together to create magic, slowly faded into a memory.

Thankfully, one of the great blessings of cancer in my life is that all these months of introspection has taught me to love myself in a way that I never did. Instead of letting this illness destroy me, it has taught me that I do have redeemable qualities, skills and wisdom to share.

This morning, I dug up old photos of my “masterpieces”. I no longer feel emptiness nor uncertainty now while looking at them. I reacquaint myself with each artwork, and even if they are no longer mine, I am no longer wary but proud that they will always be an extension of who I am.

I wonder how they are now still touching lives in different offices or homes all over the world, and this makes me more eager to paint again.

DAY 122 A.D.

2007-05-17T10:32:00.000+08:00

Today is the 122nd day since my life was so drastically split into two: BC (before cancer) and AD (after diagnosis). It's my 122nd day as a cancer survivor.

I have a new mantra:

My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead. My cancer is dead.

Long live me!

HEAD OUT OF THE SAND

2007-05-15T22:20:00.000+08:00

I had my last shot yesterday to pull up my white blood cell count and so the protocol for my fifth chemo cycle is officially now over. I have one cycle more to go but ironically I am starting to feel scared. Pretty soon, all treatment will be over and then I begin my journey as a cancer survivor on my own. There will no longer be doctors and nurses to check me up every few days. There will no longer be meds to boost my immune system. I will have to deal with the state of counting my days in terms of survival rates and statistics. I will have to deal with the wondering why this ever happened to me and why I did not do what I needed to do way back when I knew something was wrong. I will have to deal with the asymmetrical image I see in the mirror everyday. I will have to be vigilant and fight off the fears on my own.

I need to pull my head out of the sand quick.

POSTING FOR POSTERITY

2007-05-12T18:38:00.000+08:00

Since I am almost done with my chemotherapy sessions, I decided to post some sort of a photo journal for posterity...

7:00 a.m.
Getting ready for the hospital for an overnight stay. It's my second to the last cycle so far and I am nearing the finish line...yahoo!

7:15 a.m.
Bong goes to the Admitting Section and I wait in the Waiting Area. I am not allowed in the Admitting Section to avoid any exposure to infection.

7:25 a.m.

I am off to my room. One of the procedures I hate is having to be wheeled in to my room when I can very well walk.

I try to bribe the orderly to let me give him a ride on the wheel chair this time. I have done this over a dozen times since my surgery in January but noone has taken the bite.

7:30 a.m.
All chemo patients here don't go through the normal SOP of passing through ER before admission and so I am in my room now waiting for all the necessary pre-admission procedures. Meanwhile I set up all my "survival equipment" while waiting for the nurse. I brought some homework to kill idle time.

8:20 a.m.

I always request for Ritchie, the nurse from the second floor who is better than the residents in inserting the thick needle into my vein. (I am selfishly glad he didn't make it to the Big Brother auditions!) Today, however seems to be a challenge even for him because practically all the veins on the back of my left hand are weak and blackish from all previous chemo sessions.

Because I had a mastectomy and lymph nodes removed from my right axilla, they are not supposed to do any procedure on my right arm, even for blood pressure monitoring, at least in the next ten years. So its not an option for the I.V.

After the third attempt to insert the needle, the back of my left arm is swollen so they have no choice but to insert just below my open palm. They warn me that it will be painful because the skin there is thin. Let's do it, I say.

9:30 a.m.
Finally, the needle is in. Ouch that hurt!

10:00 a.m.
Talked to my friend Deah. Her husband, Juray and daughter, Iya will be coming over the weekend. She asked me what I want from over there and I started fantasizing about the Donuts and Cinammon Rolls that she sends me. Maybe not this time, Dey. Then she said she was just thinking about Krispy Kremes. Maybe I should venture out of my diet for a day when Juray comes...hmmm...

12:00 p.m.
Doc Jesena arrives and gets down to work. She greets me by saying I am looking better and better everytime she sees me. She first gives me a sedative, but as always it doesn't put me to sleep. Then she proceeds with administering my three medicines for chemo. The last one she gives me is Taxotere, the most toxic of all my meds. She has to monitor it closely, watching the drip constantly because the medicine is quite dense and oily and many of her patients go into cardiac distress while it is being administered.

She seems tensed doing this so I try to draw her out by engaging her in small talk. She tells me about her own cancer scare, about treating depressed and difficult patients, and the health challenges of her two daughters. I tell her about how God has played the greatest role in my postive outlook and how I hope she can let me share this to some of her other patients. I also asked her to look around for children suffering from cancer because I want to give them scholarships in our school.

Finally I am done and the the IV comes off.

5:00 p.m.
Bong goes to the house to check on the kids for a while. In the meantime, I take a few moments to thank God for all his blessings, for all the great friends who I know are praying for me and to visualize the medicines eradicating all remaining cancer cells in my body, if any. Bong arrives after an hour and a half or so.

7:30 p.m.
After a dinner of raw veggies and water, I am off to dream land, as the meds are starting to take effect. Bong goes down to the ICU to visit someone who just had a brain tumor removed. Good night.

The nurses monitor my pulse and blood pressure all night to rule out any cardiac reactions.

Next day...

9:00 a.m.
I am finally discharged from the hospital. I pass by the grocery to grab same parsley and bananas for my green smoothies, and some goodies for the kids.

10:30 a.m.
Since my doctor said that I should relax, what better way to do it than shop for a while. I take a look at some hats ( my new favorite things) and some books (my all time favorite things.)

After lunch I pass by the school to check on the enrollment and grab a few more "homework", and to chit-chat with the teachers and parents there.

3:00 p.m.
I am finally homeward bound.

EMOTIONAL WELLNESS

2007-05-06T20:38:00.000+08:00

I just finished reading the book Chinese Cinderella. I bought it as soon as I saw it in the bookstore because my high school friends were just telling me that the girl’s story is not far from my own. Reading through the memoirs of Adeline Yen Mah, I certainly felt her fears and her struggles as if they were mine. I found myself in her loneliness in a family that was emotionally distant, in her struggles with being the unfavored child, her resolve to gain acceptance by achieving in school, her dreams to make it out of her own will and effort. Needless to say, I cried many a tear going through the pages of the book.

Today, I was going through my devotional book, Journeys with the Cancer Conqueror. The chapter I am currently on spoke of how research is providing clear and convincing evidence that cancer can be triggered by charged emotional states. These emotional states are mainly variations of fear, anger and guilt. The presence of these emotional states through a stressful event in the past two years might have contributed to the onset of cancer. The good news: Unburdening often contributes to healing. The devotional book further says that in our society, sickness is a powerful force, one that is rewarded. Patients can manipulate this belief to meet their needs. Some people even cling to cancer as a newfound way to fulfill emotional needs that, otherwise, have gone unmet.

At this point in my treatment, I have done quite my share of introspection and I have come to acknowledge that the stress of the past year must have really compromised my health. When my mother was in the hospital for one hundred days last year, and we struggled to keep her alive, I once again reverted back to my childhood when I would always try to rescue her from trouble. I remember how, as a young girl, I would be overwhelmed with such guilt every time I felt that I could not protect her from my father’s anger. This had gone on and on, when my father left her, when my sister became a problem, when she had to struggle to support my nephews, when she became depressed after my father’s death. Towards the end of her life, when I felt that my tumor had grown too big and I knew for certain that something was wrong, I just could not find it in me to put my health before her welfare. All this time, I could not brush aside the guilt as well as the frustration that I never truly gained her, nor my father’s approval.

Having read that people with cancer tend to use their illness to fulfill emotional needs, I suddenly realized that sometimes it seems like my having cancer has become too much like carrying my medals in childhood, in order to gain admiration and approval. This light bulb moment was a true God-send because I know that in order for me to get past this cancer, I first need to resolve whatever emotional conflicts brought me here.

Slowly but surely, I am changing not only my eating habits, but equally as important, my emotional lifestyle. I have the ability to choose my emotions, everyday in every situation. This is a critical change on my journey to wellness.

A LESSON LEARNED

2007-05-04T21:31:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, my son Patrick was interviewed on local tv. He was asked to sing some of the songs he personally composed. I was surprised to find out that one of the songs I really like was actually written with me in mind. Naturally, one of the questions that followed was: What is the greatest lesson you learned from your mom?

During the pause, my mind started running.

Surely, Kiko would have to say courage. He knows how I have risen from the shadows of being an unwanted child to become a person of relative success. I have been quite open with them about my struggle with rejection, poor self-esteem, self-flagellation when I was young, to become a more confident, focused and altruistic adult.

Maybe, he would say creativity because he has watched me paint and write and do creative things. I would like to think he takes after me in that.

At least, he can probably say forgiveness because he has witnessed how I have chosen to forgive people who many would think are unforgivable.

If not, then hopefully he would remember love for reading…compassion...worshipful heart towards God...wisdom...resourcefulness... being hard working. Yes, I'd like to think I have all of these things.

If nothing else, then maybe survivor, for obvious reasons.

After a few moments of grappling for words to say, Kiko finally blurts out:

You know what my mom has taught me? Don’t take crap from anyone.

Oh gosh, what a poetic way to sum up sixteen years of motherhood in five words. I could die laughing.

But having thought about it, I am glad he learned that from me.

LOW FAT DIET AND BREAST CANCER

2007-05-03T09:36:00.000+08:00

Having been diagnosed with Invasive Lobular Carcinoma and with Estrogen and Progesterone Receptor Negative Status, it has been an challenge to find anything about treatment beyond chemotherapy and radiation. Because we comprise only 8 to 12 % of all those with Breast Cancer, it seems that studies have not yet conclusively found any treatment after chemotherapy. ER-PR Positive Breast Cancer Survivors, however, have such alternatives as Tamoxifen. Even exercise apparently benefits them more.

But today, I found the article below which is about something that finally benefits those who are ER-PR Negative.

The good news is that there appears to be a relationship between former breast cancer patients eating low fat diets and prevention of the disease's return.

The not-so-good news is that the benefit appears to be confined to women whose breast cancer tumor growth was not hormone (e.g. estrogen) related.

The research was presented this weekend at the San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium and will be published this coming week in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute.

According to the Associated Press, the U.S. government-sponsored study's results were somewhat surprising. Scientists had expected a low fat diet to have some benefit for most breast cancer survivors. But that wasn't the case.

"Maybe it raises as many issues as it answers," the A.P. quotes John Milner, chief of nutrition science research for the National Cancer Institute, as saying. The research team was led by Dr. Rowan Chlebowski of the University of California at Los Angeles, and it found that there was no significant statistical difference in breast cancer's return among women who were on a low fat diet and whose cancer was hormone-induced.

But that figure changed dramatically when it measured women whose breast cancer wasn't associated with hormones. According to the A.P., just 6 percent of these patients on low-fat diets died compared with 17 percent of the others, a 66 percent lower risk of death.

Now at least, there is something I can work on, to be actively involved in fighting any possible recurrence. I could not imagine myself just sitting back after my treatment ends in July, fearfully waiting for it to come back.

COMPANY I KEEP

2007-05-01T06:25:00.000+08:00

I just found out today that reknowned Filipino film director Marilou Diaz Abaya was diagnosed with Breast Cancer at around the same time as I was. I am adding her to the list of women whose company I "keep", those who have been diagnosed and are or working towards being survivors.

Betty Ford - former US First Lady
Carly Simon - musician
Cynthia Nixon - stage and tv actress
Dede Robertson - wife of evangelist Pat Robertson
Diahann Carroll - singer
Elizabeth Anania Edwards - lawyer and wife of Senator John Edwards
Gloria Steinem - activist
Greta Garbo - actress
Jacklyn Smith - actress
Joan Kennedy - former wife of Senator Edward Kennedy
Kate Jackson - actress
Kay Warren - wife of Rick Warren
Kylie Minogue - pop star
Lynn Redgrave - actress
Melissa Etheridge - singer
Nancy Reagan – former US First Lady
Olivia Newton John - singer
Peggy Fleming - muitli-awarded skater
Sandra Day O’Connor - first female US Supreme Court Justice
Sheryl Crow- rocker
Shirley Temple Black - actress
Bibeth Oteza - Filipina actress and activist
Marilou Diaz Abaya - Filipina Director

RAIN ON A SUMMER DAY

2007-04-28T09:41:00.000+08:00

Yesterday it rained for a few minutes. The smell of rain on the hot pavement, the soft patter of the raindrops on the roof, the cool air blowing through the windows. They were all such a delightful respite from the seemingly endless summer heat.

This has been one long and hard summer. To add to the challenges of my chemotherapy, it has been unusually hot and, of all times, the power outages have become more frequent. They were just saying in the month of May, things will even get worse. Hearing that, I felt weighed down with the prospect of having to go through the second half of my treatment and enduring all the discomforts.

Therefore, when Bong came home with a smile from ear to ear, I wasn’t really interested in what he had to say. No amount of cheering up could pull me out of the rut.

Well, he sure proved me wrong.

Apparently, my oncologist had been readjusting my treatment based on my responses to the infusions and medications. Because I was responding quite well, some doses were elevated which means I will have only two more cycles left instead of three! This also means my chemotherapy will end in May instead of June. And the best development of all, I will just have foul taste buds two more times and not three.

Rain on a summer day. Good news on bad days. God’s loving faithfulness in tough times.

Thank You, Lord.

THE CANCER PERSONALITY

2007-04-27T22:15:00.000+08:00

I was just reading this article about cancer and though I was skeptical, I was not surprised to see that the writer, W. Douglas Brodie, MD. seemed to be talking about me. Read on...

In dealing with many thousands of cancer patients over the past 28 years, it has been my observation that there are certain personality traits which are rather consistently present in the cancer-susceptible individual. These characteristics are as follows:

*Being highly conscientious, dutiful, responsible, caring, hard-working, and usually of above average intelligence.

*Exhibiting a strong tendency toward carrying other people's burdens and toward taking on extra obligations, often "worrying for others."

*Having a deep-seated need to make others happy, tending to be ""people pleasers."" Having a great need for approval.

*Often having a history of lack of closeness with one or both parents, sometimes, later in life, resulting in lack of closeness with spouse or others who would normally be close.

*Harboring long-suppressed toxic emotions, such as anger, resentment and/or hostility. Typically the cancer-susceptible individual internalizes such emotions and has great difficulty expressing them.

*Reacting adversely to stress, often becoming unable to cope adequately with such stress. Usually experiencing an especially damaging event about 2 years before the onset of detectable cancer. The patient is unable to cope with this traumatic event or series of events, which comes as a ""last straw"" on top of years of suppressed reactions to stress.

*Showing an inability to resolve deep-seated emotional problems and conflicts, usually arising in childhood, often even being unaware of their presence.

Typical of the cancer-susceptible personality, as noted above, is the long-standing tendency to suppress ""toxic emotions,"" particularly anger. Usually starting in childhood, this individual has held in his/her hostility and other unacceptable emotions. More often than not, this feature of the affected personality has its origins in feelings of rejection by one or both parents. Whether these feelings or rejection are justified or not, it is the perception of rejection that matters, and this results in a lack of closeness with the ""rejecting"" parent or parents, followed later in life by a similar lack of closeness with spouses and others with whom close relationships would normally develop. Those at higher risk for cancer tend to develop feelings of loneliness as a result of their having been deprived of affection and acceptance earlier in life, even if this is merely their own perception. These people have a tremendous need for approval and acceptance, developing a very high sensitivity to the needs of others while suppressing their own emotional needs.

These good folks become the ""caretakers"" of the world, showing great compassion and caring for others, and going out of their way to look after the needs of others. They are very reluctant to accept help from others, fearing that it may jeopardize their role as caretakers or that they might appear to have too much self-concern. Throughout their childhood they have typically been taught ""not to be selfish,"" and they take this to heart as a major lifetime objective. All of this benevolence is highly commendable, of course, in our culture, but must be somehow modified in the case of the cancer patient. A distinction needs to be made here between the ""care-giving"" and the ""care-taking"" personality. There is nothing wrong with care-giving, of course, but the problem arises when the susceptible individual derives his/her entire worth, value and identity from his/her role as ""caretaker."" If this shift cannot be made, the patient is stuck in this role, and the susceptibility to cancer greatly increases.

As noted above, a consistent feature of those who are susceptible to cancer appears to be that they ""suffer in silence,"" and bear their burdens without complaint. Burdens of their own as well as the burdens of others weigh heavily, often subconsciously as well as consciously, upon these people because they, through a lifetime of suppression, internalize their problems, cares and conflicts. The carefree extrovert, on the other hand, seems to be far less vulnerable to cancer than the caring introvert described above.

How one reacts to stress appears to be a major factor in the development of cancer. Most cancer patients have experienced a highly stressful event, usually about 2 years prior to the onset of detectable disease. This traumatic event is often beyond the patient's control, such as the loss of a loved one, loss of a business, job, home, or some other major disaster. The typical cancer victim has lost the ability to cope with these extreme events, because his/her coping mechanism lies in his/her ability to control the environment. When this control is lost, the patient has no other way to cope.

Major stress, as we have seen, causes suppression of the immune system, and does so more overwhelmingly in the cancer-susceptible individual than in others. Thus personal tragedies and excessive levels of stress appear to combine with the underlying personality described above to bring on the immune deficiency which allows cancer to thrive.

BLACK AND BLUE

2007-04-20T09:59:00.000+08:00

This is my bruised hand after a hospital staff struggled to find a good vein. It's now difficult to find a good vein to infuse the chemo drugs into. They could not use my right arm because I had my lymph nodes removed from there.

NO WAY BACK

2007-04-08T07:00:00.000+08:00

It must have been the long and hot Holy Week and everyone was in a somber mood. Or it could have been the news article I read about John Edward's wife and her incurable condition. It might even be our upcoming 19th wedding anniversary. Or it must also be that I checked on the internet regarding estrogen and progesterone negative breast cancers and I found out that these have a high recurrence rate and survival beyond five years is statistically low.

I don't exactly know what set it off, but the past few days have been my lowest emotionally. It just suddenly dawned on me that this treatment might not work and I will have a recurrence. I kept trying to brush it off but the thought kept coming back. I tried telling some friends about it but one of them said that Satan is just getting a hold of me, and so I have stopped trying to find consolation through them.

I just realized that even when my treatment is over, when my bone scan comes back clear or when my oncologist says I am in remission, there is just no way I can ever go back to those carefree days of old. At some point down the road, the thought will always come back, the fear will always lurk behind the peaceful days, the knowledge will always be there that cancer does come back and that it actually never really goes away.

Now the challenge is trying to live productively through it.

TOGAS, SHOTS AND DREAMS-COME-TRUE

2007-04-01T19:33:00.000+08:00

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.

HOME AGAIN

2007-03-24T19:31:00.000+08:00

Two cycles down, four more to go. As usual, I am feeling fine physically and the adrenalin is high.

This week though will be tough. The challenge I face this next seven days, however, won't be the after effects of my chemotherapy. Rather, on Friday my niece will be having her grand debut, one I was looking forward to for years. Her dad, my brother and her mom separated years ago and she now lives with her maternal aunt here in Iloilo. I have been the closest kin to her from our side all those years and I have watched this girl blossom into one fine young lady. I was really looking forward to this one. On Tuesday, Angela graduates from elementary. Then a few days after that Kiko graduates from high school at Pisay. Just the thought of missing these three momentous occasions is a hard pill to swallow.

But the way things have been going so well for me, only God knows how He will beautifully see me through.

OVER THE HUMP

2007-03-04T20:29:00.000+08:00

The last three days were pretty bad ones. My nails suddenly turned blue and the ones on my thumbs felt like they were about to fall off. My hair started coming off in clumps, my scalp feeling as if I had just been through a week-long catfight. My tongue felt like a bottle of glue that even a glass of water tasted like rubber. It seemed like all the muscles of my body were constantly aching but I was explicitly told to keep away from Ibuprofen. Last but not least, we had to pay off our first hundred thousand installment for my treatment.

My oncologist had to come to the house twice to give me shots to pull up my white blood cell count. Poor Bong had to camp out on a folding bed just outside our bedroom door after running around the whole day and studying the whole night for Sunday’s service.

But today…after using up buckets of ice cubes and a whole bottle of liniment oil, I am up and about, feeling so much better. I just ate scrambled eggs and the taste of the tomatoes was euphoric on my tongue as well as my spirits. Now I begin gearing up for the next chemo cycle which will be in two weeks.

LET THE CHEMO BEGIN

2007-02-15T13:11:00.000+08:00

My brother-in-law, Lyndon, texted me a short message today: No fear. It totally inspired me to get a really short haircut and face this chemotherapy head on. I decided that I will not wait in fear that my hair will fall off. Nor wait in fear of any discomfort. I will fight this with all I've got and give the cancer a steep challenge. After the trip to the parlor, we proceded to the hospital for admission.

My oncologist came early and proceeded to give me my first two medicines. She was just telling me how toxic they were and dangerous when handled. After the second medication, she decided to flush out the residue with dextrose and went to another patient. After two hours, she came back to tell me that she cannot proceed to administer the third one because she just got my white blood cell count and it is apparently too high. She told me that she normally never takes a pause and had she gone on to do it, the results would have been catastrophic. I will have to wait another ten days for my treatment to resume.

In the meantime, I continue to contend with so many busybodies who all seem to have an opinion of what I am going through. What I find the most annoying are those people who tend to trivialize the whole thing by saying, that's nothing, or I had a friend who had it worse, or some foolish comment like that. I want to smile sweetly at them and say, I wish cancer on you then and let me hear you say that again.

I was just on the phone with my mother-in-law the other day. She had just gotten into an argument with my husband again, this time about me. Apparently, she just discovered this new alternative medicine that has volcano ash or something of the sort as its product base, and was insisting that I take it in lieu of chemotherapy. I guess Bong laughed at her and she felt insulted. Somebody else was just telling me about coffee enema but I could not for the life of me figure out why I need to shove those beans through down there in order to get healed from cancer.

All I know is that, unlike many of them, I only have one game to play. I have thought about all of these as logically as I could after much research and consultations. I am pretty confident that the chemotherapy, coupled with a positive attitude, a change in lifestyle and faith in God will be get me through.

A DATE WITH AN ONCOLOGIST

2007-01-28T08:08:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I saw an oncologist for the treatment of my breast cancer. She did an evaluation of my records and asked me to proceed to the examining area where she did a physical examination. Upon feeling over the remaining one, what she told me was, you have a very good breast. I didn’t know if I should laugh out loud or burst into mourning for the lost one.

She told me that because of my results and my age, and that there are 12 out of 14 nodes that are involved, she will have to give me the full dose chemotherapy. That would mean more cost and more side effects, according to her. This would also mean that after February 7, my target date for the first cycle, I will have to stay at home for four months. I suddenly realized that I won’t be able to attend Kiko’s and Angela’s graduation ceremonies, something I had been looking forward to all their lives. I guess this was the hardest to take because I had always wanted to be a parent that is always there as a cheering squad for the kids.

She went on to tell me the dangers and risks I will be taking and the probable glitches down the road. I got a quotation of how much everything would cost and how long it would all take. She gave me the worst case scenario and the things I have to prepare for the duration of the treatment.

Finally, before we left, I asked her, “Doc, instinctively, by my records and how you assess me, do you think I will make it?” After a pause ( a little longer than what would have been a comfortable pause), she said with a sigh, “Yes, I think you will.”

I told her with a smile, “That’s good, Doc. Because let me tell you, I will.”

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

2007-01-24T02:01:00.000+08:00

To be or not to be, that is the question.

Now on my the seventh day after my mastectomy and prognosis of breast cancer, likely a stage 3, I find myself pleasantly surprised by one thing. I did not feel much pain, physically nor emotionally. I could not precisely remember when it happened, but when I started assuming a perspective of thankfulness, this episode in my life became easier to handle. Going into the operating room, I was a little optimistic that the tumor would again be benign. When I woke up seven hours after, the first thing Bong told me was that they had to take out my right breast as the tumor was malignant.

Turning forty on a hospital bed and in a daze, having just recently buried my mother who died by someone else’s mistake, myself a victim of some circumstances, there was never a moment to blame anyone or question God.

To be or not to be grateful, that is the question I never asked.

After all, my list of things to be thankful for just never seems to end.

First of all, I have been given a chance to assess my life, my values and my relationships, a chance that is naturally brought about by the prospect of death. Consequently, it has allowed me the time to change what I need to change and pursue what I need to. Many others who died through an accident never had that chance.

Of course there are the wonderful people who have unselfishly given everything they could to help me. I had five doctors who were with me during the surgery who gave their services for free. For someone who is rarely in the receiving end, it was heartwarming to know that these people really wanted me to make it. I also received so many calls and messages from people all over the world from people who, at some point in my life I had been associated with, to encourage me and pray for me.

This experience elevated my relationships with some people to a new level. Tita Maggie Hofilena, herself a cancer survivor, has become like a second mother to me. Emil and Tutti Salcedo have become my new personal heroes. Raquel and Rj are no longer just administrative assistants but my great friends. Joseph Idemne and Manny Gruenberg are now family.

It would seem like my battle has just begun. Chemotherapy, radiation treatment and many other procedures are now lined up for the next months. But, my mind is no longer there. I am now looking forward to beating this thing and allowing God to use me in whatever He has planned.

Meanwhile, I have asked Tita Maggie to already sign me up in their survivor group. I will be the youngest member, something to be thankful for, because I am hardly youngest of anything these days.

EMPOWERED IN KNOWING

2007-01-18T21:27:00.000+08:00

A six centimeter tumor was removed from me three days ago. The specimen was immediately rushed to the pathologist and thirty minutes later, they called my surgeons in the operating room. It's malignant.

After receiving the results, my surgeons proceeded to remove fourteen lymph nodes from my right axilla. Subsequently, twelve of the fourteen nodes tested positive for malignancy.

Today, I am safely home. It's my daughter's birthday and we are all trying to find normalcy in the day. I am a little uncomfortable because of the drain that is still attached to me, but overall I am strangely feeling empowered.

Looking back to D-day...

I can still distinctly remember falling asleep in the operating room to the sound of my anesthesiologist singing to herself. Just moments before that, my cousin and internist came in to take my picture with her cellular phone. After what seemed to be only a few moments, I woke up again to the voice of my anesthesiologist saying that it's all over. In reality it was after eight hours. I was groggy but could feel a slight pain in my throat, probably after the breathing tube was pulled out from me.

The next moment I remember was waking up again, this time in the recovery room. My husband was telling me, They had to take it all out, it's cancer. Our son is here beside me. I then turned to look for my boy and saw that he was crying.

I remember reaching out to him and saying, It's okay son, don't worry. We'll be okay.

Now that I know I have cancer, at least I know what I am contending with. It feels much, much better than not knowing what I am up against.

PREPARING FOR SURGERY

2007-01-14T20:46:00.000+08:00

Tonight, I am trying to relax here in the hospital, getting ready for my surgery and frozen biopsy tomorrow. They will be taking out my lump and rushing it to a pathologist and hopefully we will get the results in thirty minutes. I already gave instructions to my surgeon that if the results state that the lump is malignant, then he should proceed with a mastectomy without having to wake me up for consent. I just talked to the anesthesiologist a few minutes ago and she briefed me on what to expect and prepare for. Apparently she will have control over my breathing, and that has made me nervous the most.

I will have three surgeons tomorrow: Lufie Dabao, my very good friend; Doc Emil Salcedo, not just a doctor but our adviser in business, carpentry and everything else; and Doc Demy Reyes, a specialist from our church in Alabang who came all the way here to be with me and with Bong, too. There will be two anesthesiologists, including Dr. Nestor Para and an internist, my cousin, Julie as well. All of them are good friends who want to be at hand for my biopsy and possible subsequent surgery. So far, they all remain optimistic that it will be benign because the tumor is well defined and movable. It has grown quite big though. Maybe as big as an orange.

I suppose I am as ready as can be. In a while they will give me a sedative so that I can relax and fall asleep.

PRAISE YOU IN THE STORM

2007-01-12T09:54:00.000+08:00

Getting ready to check into the hospital.

STILL

2007-01-03T19:56:00.000+08:00

For the last four months, while we struggled for my mother’s health, all I could look forward to was the time when I could again devote myself for the children. When Nanay passed away, I uttered a prayer of thanks to God that in the midst of our crisis, He taught me so many things. I was certain that in everything that happened God had a purpose and a cosmic plan to fulfill. I said to myself, surely the most painful time of my life was over. Finally I could give time to the kids and watch them grow.

After the interment, Bong and the kids decided to go to Boracay for a break with their Tito Joey. I chose to stay at home for a few blissful days of solitude, in order to gather my faculties and prepare to go back to work. Piles of things had to be done and I needed to change paces quickly. On the last day of their short trip, I got a call from Bong late in the morning. After a little small talk, he told me that while on the ferryboat ride back to the mainland, Angela had fallen into the sea.

Having heard that, a deluge of thoughts started flashing through my mind. I was imagining her trying to grasp the air for support, struggling in the water for a breath of air, fearing the unknown creatures beneath. I was thinking of how terrified she must have been and how much I so wanted to be there to comfort her. My knees trembled as I tried to get a hold of myself. Dealing with the loss of my mother was difficult. But just the prospect of losing a daughter is an entirely different thing.

Gladly, when I talked to her, she was more worried about her cell phone that got wet. Relieved as I was I promptly promised to buy her another one.

Well then, that is that, and I was pretty sure nothing worse would happen now.

Last Monday I went to the hospital for a postponed check up. To be truthful, I was even hesitant to go. But my ood friend, Lufie Dabao was very persistent in reminding me to go for a mammogram and so I dutifully went. At the end of the session I was told that the tumor I had, the one that last year tested benign, had apparently grown to twice the size and signs show a spreading on other parts of my body as well. I now have several lumps on my axilla which is an indication of malignancy. In utter disbelief, Bong and I went home. All I could think about was Kiko asking me the night before to promise that I would be around for his wedding. And Angela floating in the dark . sea, alone without me beside her. Of Joko and Shane who had just lost their lola and who I have had to fight for to stay with me. Of Bong who would be overwhelmed by all the things he had to do.

For days, I could not stop the tears every time I would think of them, and how they would have to cope without me. I was inconsolable as I thought of each one them, feeling as if there was a hole in my heart that could never be filled.

In the months that I tried to find God in Nanay’s tragedy, I eventually realized that God was asking me to lay down my identity and focus on staying still in His presence. Having had to always do the right thing to win my mother’s favor, I realized that it was not what ultimately mattered in our relationship when she was in a coma and unable to show me her approval. What mattered more was that I knew her well and that even when she could not speak, I sensed what she wanted to say to me. Much like Martha who always served, I was now being told to be like Mary who chose to simply love him.

Now I know this is what God is asking of me. He is asking me to lay my husband and children, my family, my most precious things, at His feet and walk in full trust that they are even more precious to Him. As I surrender them to God, I will then able to focus on his goodness and grace as I fight what might very well be my greatest battle yet.

With much heartache and fear, yet total trust in who God is and how He loves me, I chose to say, “Yes Lord.”

RETROSPECTION AND THE F WORD

2006-11-12T19:50:00.000+08:00

The other day I was sitting pensive in the hospital room, waiting for that euphoric feeling of weightlessness to wash over me, as sleep slowly crept in. Recently, I started to look forward to these long and quiet afternoon hours of staying by Nanay’s bedside, alone and away from the bustle of work. Needless to say, it has been a guilt-free way of escaping the frequent power outages in the city these days.

There I was, dozing off and thinking of what must have been comfort food or some delightful thing of that sort. Banana split with pineapple bits, nuts and whipped cream…fields of green grass and dandelions with puffy white clouds overhead…my hair blowing in the wind while listening to the voice of Elton John in the background…Fly, pigeon fly...towards the dreams you left so very far behind..

I was just thinking of how old that song was and how old Elton John must now be when suddenly it dawned on me. If that song was old, and if he was old, then…I must be getting old, too. Carefully counting with my fingers so as not to make a mistake...one, two, three…in ten weeks I will be inevitably, unstoppably turning forty.

I really hadn’t given it much thought before that, but maybe due to the stress of recent days, the thought of being forty made me overwhelmingly sad. My stomach was caving in and I was actually feeling desolate. I realized that arguably half of my life had already passed me by. I wondered when it would be that I would start looking at the years ahead as the few remaining ones I had. When would I start to count down my high school classmates one by one as we all slowly passed away? It it going to be downhill from here?

Compulsively, I sat up and started to try to remember all that had transpired in my life so far, in an attempt to hold back time and to slow things down. I was trying to shake the sense of foreboding. I wanted to dig up as much memories as I could.

At six, I went to my first day of school in St. Paul’s Pasig. When my mother brought me to my classroom, all could worry about was where she would sit down so I told her she can go home…At ten, I stole some brandy from my father’s wine cart because my classmate had told me that brandy can help stop menstrual flow forever. The bleeding didn’t stop and all I had the day after was a whopping hangover…At fourteen, I become totally obsessed with John Lennon, his songs and his life to the point that I started thinking I was Yoko Ono…In college I joined the street rallies and overnight vigils. Walking down the streets of Colon with a shower of yellow confetti over my head, I felt that the world was mine to conquer. Going towards seventeen, I found myself one Sunday morning in what was called a church service, surrounded by crazy people who kept shouting Hallelujah and Praise God while lifting their hands in the air. The public display of emotion was just too much for me. That night, alone in my room I recalled the faces of those same people as they prayed. I decided I wanted the same thing and gave my life to God. When I was twenty, I sat in my regular chair one Sunday morning, waiting for the service to start. A dashing and lean young man in white shirt and a tie flew past by me as he led some thirty children to the stage for a special number. He's like the Pied Piper, I said, and my boyfriend who sat beside me told me, that guy was the Sunday school teacher and his name was Bong.

Now, twenty years later, I am happily married to that Sunday school teacher and we have four teen-agers, two who are ours by birth and two who are ours by circumstance. They are turning out to be people of character and tenacity despite all the odds and I am proud of them. Somewhere in between, I became a painter, a homebody, a teacher, a counselor for troubled youth and some sort of a showbiz insider. My husband and I have a school and a church to run, doing what we love to do best. Our staff are dedicated, loyal and hardworking. We have three Labradors who love us and countless friends and family who have touched our lives. And the list goes on.

Yes, I guess the first forty years had been quite good ones after all. The next forty ones should be even better.

Feeling much better, my thoughts naturally went back to banana split and Elton John.

WAITING FOR A MIRACLE

2006-09-24T18:49:00.000+08:00

My mother is in the hospital again for the fourth time in recent months. Five days after the amputation, we gladly went home, filled with plans for the next few months. I thought that Nanay's most tragic episode was finally over. On the second morning after we got home, we tried to wake her up for breakfast but she was dead to the world. After several calls to the doctor, we found out that the nurse had made a mistake in the prescription given to us upon discharge from the hospital. Instead of the prescribed 14 units of insulin, the nurse wrote 34 units which we religiously followed.

Now, Nanay is in a coma, has been for the past eight days. Day by day, I sit by her bedside hoping against hope that she would wake up. I hold her hand as I battle with endless questions, endless regrets. The other day I let Gian come home for a couple of days and after staring at his lola for a long while he asked me, "Lola is a good person, why is this happening to her?" Sadly, I could not answer his question.

MY MOTHER, MYSELF

2006-09-17T10:45:00.000+08:00

It is true what they say, that scenes in our lives are like passing towns as we speed down a highway.

I am about four years old and in a bus with my mother. We are on our way to Pasig for an errand. I fall asleep on her lap as we bounce through the dusty road. The bus stops and we get ready to disembark. My mother gets down first and before she could turn around to carry me down, the bus moves away. She runs after the bus shouting at the driver to stop. As soon as I get down and grab her hand, I feel secure.

That was some thirty-five years ago.

Almost all my life I felt that my mission was to take care of my mother, to make sure that she would not have a difficult time. Most times she did not even notice my help and it became an endless cycle of conflict and guilt. I would often wonder why I even bothered to watch her back and to gain her favor. We just could not get along, and yet I could not help myself from worrying about her.

Four nights ago Nanay had to undergo surgery, to amputate her left leg below the knee. She now suffers from Diabetes and Alzheimer’s Disease. I stayed with her in the recovery room right after the operation because the nurses could not hold her down. She was trashing about, her eyes glassy as she stared at me, crying in pain as I held her hand. I could not help but be overwhelmed with sadness over a life that has not been so rosy. She was orphaned at four and was raised by a grandmother along with her brother and sister. She found herself in an unhappy, at times violent marriage that lasted for some thirty years. She had to forego retirement as she cared for two young grandsons left to her by an erring daughter. And now in her twilight years, a woman who always took pains to look beautiful and enjoy life loses a limb as she also loses her memory.

Today I sit by her hospital bedside, as I watch my daughter Angela meticulously make her lola’s face up with an eyebrow pencil and lipstick. She is groggy but smiling at herself in the compact mirror as she holds a Patrick Starfish toy in her other hand.

Hopefully, later in the day she will remember who we are. I am glad I am here to wait. In the meantime, I have not yet gotten a surgery to remove my lump. As soon as this is all over, that is what I need to take care of next.

Exodus 20:12:
Honor your father and mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

GOOD NEWS

2006-03-16T10:00:00.000+08:00

Thankfully, the results of my biopsy has come. My tumor is benign and what a relief. The doctor said I have about a year to take it out and so I will have to do that. I am still in Manila setting up the new place for Gian to stay in while he pursues his showbiz career. At least, Starstruck is now over and we can all go back to our normal lives.

A NEW JOURNEY

2006-03-10T07:00:00.000+08:00

A week or so ago, I accompanied my nephew on Starstruck 3 's nationwide tour. I was taking a quick shower at around 4:00 a.m. in some hotel in Davao when I accidentally felt a lump on my breast. Fear immediately came over me and my knees started to buckle. It was an effort to get past the shock and finish the many things I was yet to do. Of all times, I was practically alone, away from my husband and kids, and I had to muster all courage to get through the days until I could go home to them.

As soon as I got back to Iloilo a few days ago, Bong and I went to a surgeon for a check up. After a physical exam, the doctor asked us to sit down and she started telling us about possibilities and chances until the most dreaded word came up...cancer. It felt as if I died a thousand deaths, watching her lips move and yet not really wanting to understand all the things she said. It was as if I was watching a movie scene. Never in a million things did I ever think that, watching all those melodramatic movies, hearing the stories of many friends, listening to the news about this or that celebrity, this terrible monster would come knocking at my door.

On the way home from the doctor's clinic, I could not stop the tears from flowing as a million thoughts ran through my mind. Will I see Angela walk down the aisle? Will I ever get to see Kiko become the great influencer that everyone says he will be? Will I be able to also launch Shane into his own showbiz career? Who will remind Gian that girls will always be there, but opportunity is golden? Who will tease Bong, defend him, nag him and budget his money for him, comfort him and encourage him when the going gets tough? As soon as we got home, Bong gathered Kiko and Angela and told them what the doctor said. All I could do was hold the three of them tightly as we all cried in fear.

In a while, I an off to the hospital for an incision biopsy to see if the tumor is benign. Meanwhile, God has been a faithful comforter and friend. I know that God is the one who delivers us. He is the one who determines our steps. He is our loving Father who will give us all He could, even if we don’t deserve it. All we need to do is ask. Just as Gian reached his dreams not because of his looks, personality or talent but because he earnestly asked God for it and walked in faith and obedience to His Word, I now claim God’s healing.

Yes, God's promises are true. I stand on His Word that I am healed.