FYI

A few weeks ago, my mom was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. I haven't had the time to process what that means and how this will affect me in the long run. All I can think of now is how to get by every day. 

After the initial shock of hearing, "Mom has cancer!" my brothers and I had to tell extended family and close friends. There are days when I find comfort in knowing that other people share our pain. Yet, there are times when I think telling people was the wrong choice. There are things I don't want to hear right now. There are times when I don't want to see people. There are days when I can't deal with the questions. 

To pass time while visiting mom, I've put together my own list of annoying things people have said and done in this difficult time. 

1. When can we visit? Can we go today at a time that's convenient for us? 

There are some people or families who do want visitors every day. Others, families like mine, just want privacy. It would be really nice if people asked (not told) us if they could visit and didn't just show up at home or in the hospital. 

Please, if you're allowed to visit, do so at our convenience. Just because you're free at 8pm doesn't mean that that's a good time for us. 

Also, please don't bother to visit my mom or the rest of us if you want comfort. Let us be a bit selfish. We need the comfort. Don't come expecting us to dry your tears and to tell you that our mom will be okay.

2. Have you considered so and so treatment? I'm selling so and so supplement that cures cancer! I'll drop by to give my sales talk.

Yes, we have researched all the possible treatments out there and we have decided on one already. Thank you for your suggestions, but please respect our decision. 

Oh, you're into supplements. Please know that there really isn't any cure for cancer right now. Medicine can't cure it. Supplements can't cure it. And no, you cannot do your sales talk. Do you want to make money off us or something? 

3. You know, my so and so had the exact same cancer as your mom. 

I know you're just trying to make connections and try to understand cancer as best as you can. Please stop with the stories. Please don't even tell the story if it has a sad ending. It doesn't do us any good and we all know where this is heading anyway. We don't need to hear it again. 

4. What can we do? Call if you need help. 

The problem with this statement is that we have to think of something that you can do for us. It's not like I can ask you to pay the bills, clean the house, take care of my cat or do our laundry. I also won't have the time or energy to call you for help. 

Instead, say something specific like, "I would love to cook for the family. I'll be bring lasagna over on Friday for dinner. Will this be alright?" This kind of help is the best kind there is. 

5. Can I tell so and so about the cancer? 

There is a reason why you know. You know because you are an important member of the family or you are a close friend. Why do you want to tell someone else? Is it so that you have someone to cry with or will that person provide much needed support to my mom and the family? 

See, if someone tells you they have cancer, they might not appreciate it if you go around telling others. 

6. I visited. I took pictures. They're up on social media. 

What. Just what. What?! Unless the person allowed you to post pictures of themself looking sick and fragile, then please go ahead and post the pictures. But if the person doesn't know you're posting them, then just don't post the pictures. 

7. Questions. Questions. And more questions. 

When people keep asking questions over and over again, I get really tired of answering and just shut up. 

Many some people like answering the questions, but I don't. Please know that whatever info I have about my mom I dish out on my own discretion and I expect that you don't pester me with questions. We're also still trying to figure things out. 

8. I'm praying for your mom. (And then begins to quote some Bible verse.) 

While I do appreciate the prayers and Bible verses, there are days I want to scream, "Your prayers and your Bible verses are not a cure for this!" 

9. We're here for you. 

Thank you. 

I hope you know that you might need to be 'here for me' for days, weeks, months or even years. If you're not up to that, don't give me that false promise. I don't know when I'll be okay. I also don't know how long this situation will last. 


This is all I can think of for now. I might add more. Let's see. 

This That Is

"I'm serious about giving this is a shot," you say.

You've been saying that a lot lately. I don't understand numbers, but I know you said it more than five times today. You've been telling me that since day one of this. This? Yes, this. This that is undefined and unclear at the moment. It is what it is and I am sure there are words to describe this. We just can't decide what words to use to define whatever we think we have. Funny how we love words but can't use them to determine what we are. 


"I'm up for anything," you say.

Anything? What is anything and how do you define that? What are you not up for and what determines what you are willing to do? You being up for anything scares the hell out of me. I might be leading you to hell and you'd still thank me. No. I'm not up for anything. I'm up for two specific things only. Either this ends now or we prolong this by labeling it. 


"I don't know what I want," you admit.

I know what I want. I want this to begin before we decide that it should end. I want us to stop being such a pussy about it. I want to look you in the eye and say, "Well, we're so fucked up now aren't we? We can do so much better than this." I want an explanation. I want to know what's going on in your head. I can't read your thoughts. I want this to end. Or I want this to begin. We can't have both. It's all or nothing.


"But I am serious," you assure me. 

And yet here you are with those eyes that may have the ability to see into my soul. You assure me and reassure me over and over again that you are serious. I am beginning to think that you repeat that phrase to remind yourself that you asked for this too. I didn't. I never did. But god, am I enjoying the torture you're putting me through. 


"How serious are you?" you ask.

Serious enough.

Fine

How are you?

Simple question that irritates me. So please stop asking.

(Total tinitingnan niyo ako at hinuhusgahan ang bawat galaw ko, diba? So baka mas alam niyo pa ang dapat kong isagot sa tanong niyo.)


Person: Hi Anna!
Me: Oh hello there.

I know what's coming next. Can we skip the part where you ask me how I'm doing? Can I smile and pretend that you won't ask? Can I turn around and walk away from you? I cannot? It's rude? It's not socially acceptable? It's insulting? Alright. So let me just stay here and put on the most real form of this fake smile of mine.

Person: How are you?
Me: Uhm. . Hmmm. .Like. .

How many more lies can I spit out to make this person go away and leave me alone? If I tell this person how I am, there will be a backlash. I do not want to deal with that right now. I also do not want to hear what Scripture verse I should be reading or what prayer I should be praying. Trust me, I've tried reading those verses and praying those prayers already. I do not want to hear that when you were my age you also dealt with a similar situation. You did not. My situation is not the same as yours. Do not pity me. I am strong enough.

Person: Should I not be asking how you are?
Me: Maybe.

Yes, you shouldn't. Unless you can take hours of me ranting, venting, crying, then please ask. If you can take my mood swings, depression and fleeting moments of happiness which I seem to ignore, go ahead and ask me how I am. Better yet, ask me about my dreams, my passions and my interests. Ask me why religion irritates me. Ask for my opinion. Ask me why I am scared of marriage or family or even relationships and love. Ask me why I cry myself to sleep, yet wake up the next day with a smile on my face. Ask me how drowning feels like.

Person: No, really. How are you?

I am not fine. I am not fine because I am messed up and screwed up. I am hungry and in need of food, but I don't want to put on weight. Let me starve now. I lack sleep and am crabby, but coffee will fix this for me. I am sad because I know that look on your face. You look at me and judge me. I know you hate my piercings. And my green hair. And my black clothes. I am weird and wild but I am still my mom's angel. I am bored. I am happy. And sarcastic.

Me: I'm fine. Thank you.

Tsss.

Live With It

This is for that ophthalmologist who saw me last week.

I came into your clinic hoping to get a pair of glasses or contacts to replace the ones I broke. You led me into a small room and made me read stuff on the board. I could read everything clearly, but I kept reminding you that I had no grade and only had astigmatism. After you checked my eyes you told me, "You don't have a grade or astigmatism." You said it in a way that sounded like you were accusing me of lying. That was when I had to explain to you that I have optic neuritis. Some days I'll have a grade. Some days I'll have astigmatism. Some days I'll see well. Some days I won't see at all. And one day, people must find a cure to this.

While I was thinking about how doctors have not found a cure for this yet, you said, "There is nothing I can do for you but pity you." I nodded my head and forced a smile. But really, I don't need your pity or your sad looks. I don't really need a cure for this or someone to tell me that it will get better in the future. Am used to taking painkillers, throwing up and sleeping off the pain. Am used to not eating seafood, chocolates, chicken, peanuts and anything else that might make this sickness worse. Am used to the headaches and tunnel vision and the dizzyness. You are not obliged to do or feel anything for me.

What irritates me however is that you told me to just live with it. You said, "Just live with it then." Isn't that what I already am doing? I have stopped hoping that some type of medicine will be invented to regulate the pain. I have stopped wishing that some other person had this instead of me. I have stopped dreaming of a day when my head will stop throbbing. I have also stopped praying to God to heal me. Don't tell me to just live with it. I don't want to hear that from you. I don't want to hear anything from you.

See, I've heard this all before. You're not the first ophthalmologist or doctor or neurologist who has told me that there is nothing you can do for me. I know the lines. I know the spiels. I know you're just doing your job when you tell me these things. But I don't need to be reminded that I've got to live with this. As much as possible I just try to block it out of my mind so I can concentrate on living life.



 



 

First Semester Craziness

Rizal

Was this really a Rizal class? Or was it something else? Every meeting, we would have about one hour to discuss current events. After discussing the news, that was the only time the professor would talk about Rizal and his life. The only thing I picked up from this class was that Rizal is our hero and he loved the Philippines so very much. I never really bothered to understand this class because it was frustrating to have to listen to the professor go on and on about whatever the hell he was talking about. I made it a point to show up for this class and at least not get on the nerves of the professor. I guess that strategy worked in my favor. I pity all the other students who have to take this class under that professor. 

Acting

I hate acting. I hate Acting. I hate the act. And I hate the subject. The real title of this subject is Acting and Directing. I was looking forward to it because I thought, "Hey! After this class I'll know how to boss people around more effectively and efficiently." But no. For one whole semester, we had to do acting activities, memorize Shakespeare lines and learn how to act on our own. On our own? Yes. I thought that the professor would teach us how to act and give us pointers. What he gave us were techniques, but i don't think those techniques taught me how to act. Sure, I knew my lines and cues, but I don't think I can act. Something has to be done for this subject to be relevant to Media Production students. In fairness to the professor, he told us on the first day of class that he did not know why we needed this subject. Really, it was a waste of time and saliva. 

Management

Holy mother of God. I think my brain is not wired to ever understand Management (and Marketing). I would get so bored. Most of the time, I would end up text messaging my friends and talking about something funny with Mica. We had exactly one quiz and weird exams. I would find any excuse to skip this class. I am off to Baguio. I am sick. I have a wedding to attend. I just did not feel like it. I guess one day, I'll look back and be like, "I wish I had listened to the professor in my Management class." I really don't know if I should blame the professor, the time of the subject, myself or other factors for being so lazy in this class. 

Corporate Communication 

I actually appreciated this class. At first it seemed that we weren't doing anything, but when the semester wore on, I finally got the hang of how the professor would teach the class. This class showed me that public relations is so important and it's pretty fun. Although I do not really want to go into public relations, it's nice to know that if I can't make it big elsewhere, I can get into this kind of work. Funny thing is that when the block had their finals, I was sick. So during the first week of my semestral break, I was slaving away making a campaign that the professor would grade. After submitting it, the professor tells me, "Actually, I already graded you even without your final paper. So this paper better be good." Crap. It's easier to work to get a grade than to work to prove you deserve the given grade. 

Cross Cultural Literature

This class was a class I wanted to love but ended up hating. I love reading and I love books. I was expecting that this class would be one of those classes which I would dream about and never want to miss. The day this class started, I was wishing the semester would end already. Instead of focusing on the themes of the different novels and how they are relevant to us, I had to memorize tons of names of almost all the characters and places in the given reading material. Like what the hell. I totally flunked all the quizzes and almost failed the exam. I think this class could have been better. Am glad this is over. 

Marketing

About 80% of the tine, my brain was somewhere else during this class. Maybe it was because the class started at 2pm. Or maybe it was because I found the subject totally boring. Or because Mica was my seatmate and we would just laugh the whole time. What I liked about this class was its consistency. Vera was our professor and from the first day she set the rules. We had to shut up. We would finish one chapter of the book in two meetings. We would have quizzes on the third meeting. Consistent. Yes, I loved its consistency however there were days when it was rather dragging. We rarely had any activities (unless you consider PANA and selling stuff an activity). The only reason I got through this class was because of coffee and tons of laughter. My final grade? Let's just say that I am glad I passed this subject because I do not want to repeat this ever again.

Audio Arts

In this class, there were eight of us who were not part of the block. We called ourselves The Irregulars. This class stressed me out! Sure, it was just once a week on a Wednesday morning, but since almost everything was group work, it was hard to find time to meet the group. We would cut classes, stay after classes and find ways to meet as a group just to finish our projects. Although I cannot say that the people in The Irregulars became my friends, they were super fun to be with and we could talk about things I couldn't talk about with other people. The professor? I liked him because he was blunt. He would give us practical advise. He told us that there would only be a handful of us who would make it big. He said it would be hard to be a girl in the media. He said to stand up for ourselves. He's a good professor. He's real. I actually enjoyed this class a lot. Can we do this again?

Movement

I would like to forget that this class ever happened. Why? Let me explain. I took ballet for eight years. I did all sorts of other dance during grade-school and high-school. I had to stop because of my Optic Neuritis. So when I had to walk out in the middle of my final exam which was a dance, I totally broke down. Seriously? I took ballet for eight years! I did all sorts of dance for years! And then I couldn't dance! What the hell is wrong with me?! I would force myself to go to this class because after two hours of dance class, I would go home with a massive headache and throw up for hours. Instead of trying to present a doctor's certificate to get out of this class, I would show up week after week. This class just made me realize how sick I actually am and how I really cannot force myself to dance anymore. It saddens me that I cannot do what others can do with their bodies. Yet it also reminds me to take all my medicines and try my best to stay alive. 

Video Production

7:45am class. Who goes to a class that early? No one. In this class all we did was produce videos. The professor rarely gave lectures and when he did, we would watch videos of how to make videos. Am trying to think of what I actually learned from this one. After making about three videos for this class, I realized that it is hard to operate without a budget. It also is hard to produce anything when you don't believe in what you're doing. Maybe the coolest thing that happened in this class was that I got to watch several short films at CSB. Another cool thing was when the professor said that he used to be a missionary and bring the Jesus film to the provinces.

Audio Visual Presentation 2 

This is interesting. Our original professor gave us so many free cuts. When we actually had a class, she wouldn't teach us anything at all, but would require us to do really hard things. For mid terms, Char and I had to ask a friend to help us make a one minute video on some animation program. We were so desperate already. I was so desperate already. After the mid terms, we found out that someone else was taking over the class. I really don't care what happened to the original professor and I really hope that no school gets her to be a professor again. Yes, that's how much I dislike her. See, this class could have been fun! If someone taught this subject well, I would be able to edit better, animate, make websites and do that sort of shit you pay people to do for you. Oh well. Disappointing.



Overall this semester was such a hassle for me. What made it worse was that I had ten subjects and thirty (or twenty nine) units to contend with. Either my body is now so messed up or my school load was the culprit. I have no idea if it's because of my thyroid problems or my Optic Neuritis, but if I did not get eight hours of sleep at night, I felt that I had not gotten any sleep at all. There were days I would have to ask someone to walk to me school and back home because of my attacks. I would go home during my breaks to sleep and to pop some pills into my mouth. My attacks have gotten worse and have been happening more often. Am really glad that I have gotten through this semester. More semesters to go! Hopeful without the pain that this Optic Neuritis brings. Pretty happy that I did not fail any subject and that things are going as planned.

Thoughts On Sickness And Other Things

 My body feels sore. So sore that the only position I can stand is lying on my back in my bed while my eyes are staring at the ceiling. Urinating is a chore for it means getting up from bed and dragging myself to my toilet. I refuse to stand. I crawl. I crawl on all fours to the toilet. Finally, when I need to force myself to sit on the toilet seat, my body feels like a huge balloon that will explode when pricked. And then I imagine myself bursting. For no reason at all, my body becomes liquid and I become a pool of particles on my black floor. 

I wake up. On my bed. A tray of food is before me. A voice tells me that it's been there for the past two hours. The soup's getting cold. The cold water's getting warm. I am getting hotter and hotter. I force myself to eat food I cannot taste and drink liquids which hurt my throat. They want to turn the lights on in my room. I blatantly refuse. They turn it on. I whine. Like a brat. The lights go off. I go to sleep.

 I drift in and out of sleep. Veep is on. Modern Family is on. I listen. I sleep. My phone vibrates. People from college asking if I'm going to school. I reply and say I am sick. Their next few messages baffle me. They ask if I'm in school. They ask when I'll be back. When a person is sick, a person stays home. When a person is sick, they don't know when they'll be well. I stopped replying. Catastrophe. 

My closest friends entertain me. They try to make me better. But I'm here and they're so far away. To make up for distance they call and talk while I fall asleep on them. They send me funny videos that makes me smile. They chat with me and I send them emoticons. I fall asleep and wake up to their messages reminding me why I have to get well and not give in to this sickness. They say life is good. 

I'm not so sure about that.

Shakes Head

Conscience:  How's life so far?
Me: You call this life?
Conscience:  College. 
Me: Terrible.

It's so terrible that every time someone asks me if I am enjoying college I want to puke. I see my professors and try to give them the answers they want to hear. All I really want to tell them is that in a few years everything they taught me would have been obsolete already. The dean sees me at least once a week and tells me, "Anna, I am so proud of you." I smile and say thanks. What I really want to say is, "I can't wait to get out of here!" The guards look at me and wonder, "When are you graduating?" I want to tell them I am asking the same question. My parents ask me every week what's going on in college. I give them the same boring answers. Exams. Quizzes. Reports. Walk outs. Drama. My friends tell me that I don't belong in the college I find myself in. I cry on their shoulders and they tell me things will be alright. I want to get out. I am trapped in a prison of uniforms, no hair dye, specific black shoes, curfews, rules and everyhting else you can name that has made my mind go insane. I just need art.

Conscience: You need art. You need art?
Me: Paintings. Words. Colors. People. 
Conscience:  And you don't have that there?
Me: *shakes head*

Dapat kasi nag enroll ka sa non traditional college! And where in the name of Hades would that get me in this country? I am dying because the words here are words that have no more meaning and are just put together to form a sentence to get a grade. The words here are too structured that they have no life in them anymore. Colors are questioned or laughed at. They are viewed as rebellion or defying authority. No colors. People are too caught up with grades, love and little dumb things that clutter up their lives and then consume them.  And I try my best to blend in or fit in, but I can't and they know I won't. I realize that without words and colors and people who also need words and colors, I cannot function. Been stocking up on art books. Spending all my free time online looking for and at art. Reading words and trying to come up with some. Spending more and more time with people who can breathe some life into me.

Conscience: What have you been up to?
Me: Contemplating life.
Conscience:  You confused?
Me: Shut up. Percy Jackson is awesome!

The only thing that made me happy after a long time of feeling nothing was when my parents and I watched Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters last Sunday. I had to drag my parents to watch it with me because my friends are not into this Greek mythology thing. Yes, I have weird and sad friends. Anyway, I was so happy that I didn't even let it bother me that there were noisy children in the theater. Fine. So the movie wasn't as exciting as the book, but it was a lot better than the first Percy Jackson movie. Thank heavens! I wanna watch it again, but I don't wanna watch it alone. So I just might bribe some people to watch it with me. I am that desperate.

Conscience: Uhm. .
Me: And to make myself happier I decided to go minimalist.
Conscience: Will you shut up about it?
Me: No. Talking about it helps me convince myself that it's the right thing to do.

 Basically, I haven't started cleaning out my closet and giving or throwing most of my things away. I don't really live where all my things are. So am planning to get rid of tons of stuff this weekend. I've been checking out tons of blogs to see if I'm on the right path. Seems that I am. I told some of my friends what am up to and they all said that if I was throwing away my books, they want them. Parents don't really care. Me? Am so excited. Maybe by going minimalist I'll forget how terrible college is right now.