Wishing Stars & Everyday Miracles
Wish.. take me by the hand and wish.. Hold your breath and we might find, it might come true on a starry, starry night…
This song may be corny for some but for me, it takes me back to Bohol 1997. Lito and me were looking at the stars outside, talking about things, of possibilities, of second chances. He held my hand and it stayed there for a bit and while I was far away from home, I felt at ease.
My thoughts go way back, and somehow it stuck to the word WISH. A wish is a form of hope. A wish is a form of asking for something to happen. And it made me think that everything that I do here- may it be for Lito or for myself or for anyone who fights the battle with us, is a form of a wish, a form of asking God to never let go of our hands, in the hope that our wishes will come true, knowing that He is near.
My heart has full of wishes and hope. It is calling out for mercy and strength, to witness everyday miracles. They say there are two ways to live your life: One is to live as if there are no miracles and one is to live as though everything is.. I choose the latter. It is much more optimistic and is lighter in the heart, it won’t add up to our burdens.
Plus, it is so easy to spot miracles everyday if you just open your eyes and heart:
- Waking up to another day
- Being able to breathe and see and hear and laugh and taste, etc.
- To have a job
- To have food and drinks on the table
- To have clothing and shelter
- Having someone with you
- Good health
- Family and friends
- Prayers
There are so many to mention that if we really look at them and appreciate them, it will make you wonder if you are worthy of so many blessings. Sometimes though, we fail to see these miracles because of circumstances that blind us to see the brighter side of things.
Like last night, I received an anonymous text which dampened my high spirits. “Gud pm Miss Ara. How are you? Kalooy nimo Miss Ara uy.. namatyan pa kag anak..unya nag leukemia imo bana..Moampo ko para ninyo” (I pity you Miss Ara.. Your child died and then your husband has cancer... I will just pray for you).
I know that whoever sent this meant well but it dampened my high spirits because I never wanted anyone to pity us or see us as victims of a cruel life. It’s because I have always looked so much at the brighter side of things and try not to focus on the dark side. Texts like these somehow feel like my head is being forced to see the darkness behind me.
I hope that you don’t see me as indifferent or that I am masking reality. I don’t set these thoughts aside. I think of it when I’m alone. When people leave. When Lito is asleep. When I go into the restroom, close the door and then my eyes. When I press my palm against my forehead and just pray. And wish. It enters my psyche—the totality of our situation, the wholeness of my heart—aching and strong. Sometimes I cry, and thoughts of questions left unanswered would sink in. And fear would come in too, as expected.
These are the times that I think I don’t deserve this. It’s too hard, too much, too painful, too tiring. But the miracle of times like this is that these thoughts go away quickly as they come. They go away with the thought that this is not what I am here for. I am not a victim. Lito’s not a victim. And further thoughts would creep in that at the end of the day, this battle is not about me. It is about Lito and him needing me most at this time.
While some part of me will always ache for the loss of my child, my husband needs me and our situation calls for that other part of my heart—the unusually strong one which can weather any storms ahead. This is what my husband needs and there is no room for feeling like a victim or for pity. That knowledge of how big my role is in overcoming this battle with my husband leaves me amazed while I take in every day, taking care of Lito, and find the deepest love I ever had for him, in the same heart that aches somewhere, but has chosen to look at it in another point of view.
It still amazes me that ever since Day 1, I have miraculously detached from that part of my heart that aches—the one that has faced losing a child and grieved him each moment since. Instead, I got to know a stronger heart—of believing that my son did not die in vain, that everything happens for a reason. Somehow, this has strengthened my resolve that if THAT very painful situation is answered now and has been given its purpose, this will also be the case in our situation as of the moment.
I hope it’s not much too ask: Don’t pity me. Don’t pity Lito. Please. There’s nothing pitiful in this situation. If anything, I’d like to challenge you to turn that feeling of pity to a feeling of compassion. Not just for me or for Lito, but for everyone who is battling anything in their lives right now—be it cancer, or an empty heart, a guilty conscience, a tired soul. And with this compassion based on our situation, I urge you to make it as an avenue to inspire. To create miracles yourselves by reaching out to others, by praying for them, and doing random acts of kindness.
I’ve seen and felt so much compassion from our ninja soldiers that it radiated to love and I connect to them even if haven’t seen some of them yet or haven’t talked to them before. It radiated to a belief that this world is not doomed after all because when all else seems to fall, each and every one of us has the capacity to be God’s children who are there for each other and be one in faith, compassion, hope and love.
God supplies me with everyday miracles to overcome those times when I falter. Like right after that text, a classic OPM song blared on the radio while I was on this very introspective mood “Wish, take me by the hand and wish… Hold your breath and we may find.. It might come true on a starry, starry night… “ And I couldn’t help but smile as I think about that night in Bohol 15 years ago, with Lito holding my hand.
And yes, 15 years after, I am now the one holding his hands, talking about possibilities, of second chances and of wishes that will certainly come true someday on a starry, starry night.
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| Miracle: smiling after Round 1 of Chemo Therapy with the babies and his guitar |
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| Miracle: the gift of friends who never fail to support and be with you in the worst of times: Best Couple Friends Jayson and Aisee |
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| Miracle: The presence and love of family-- Lito and me with our ninja babies Levi and Muriel |
UPDATES and Lito's Mini Concert:
Lito might be going home soon after the first cycle of chemo therapy. His IM doctor gave him clearance 2 days ago as there were no seen infections. He was free of his IV lines and was able to take a bath all by himself, was so upbeat when he can play the guitar and do a mini-concert with Jayson and Aisee when they were substituting for me as I surprised my Mom on her birthday.
Mini Concert: having fun with best couple friends Jayson and Aisee
The decision of being sent home will be dependent on his CBC later—when his blood counts will still continue to rise. If the results are good, then we are good to go home BUT will still be on reverse isolation. However, it made him so happy that we will be in our room again. Ninja masks are still on, no visits, strict diet and super clean room plus plenty of rest and home CBCs in between for monitoring.
By the way, Lito's semi-bald hair is now starting to shed off, making it look like empty spots. In his craziness and positive attitude, he instead turned it into a song and we joked about it last night in his mini-concert:
On February 1, Lito will be having his bone marrow biopsy to recheck remission of cancer cells. By February 6, results will be out and I urge you guys to pray for good results. By February 7, we’re off to Manila to see Dr. Francis Lopez, his stem cell transplant doctor in St. Luke’s Global. This will be the time as well that all his generous siblings will offer their tissues for bone marrow matching laboratory tests. Again, please pray that there will be a perfect match.
Right after this schedule in Manila, he will go back to Chong Hua for a second and higher dose of Cytarabine (chemo) consolidation cycle. We will stay in the hospital for another month, hopefully in the same floor and the same wing so we can have the same friendly nurses.
If all goes well in this 2nd cycle, we’re good for stem cell peripheral implantation (bone marrow transplant) after Holy Week. We will stay at St. Luke’s for 5-6 weeks followed by a reverse isolation in Manila for 3-4 months. It will be a VERY long journey for our ninja but one thing I can assure you paree:
I will be with you in every step of that journey. I will love you every step of the way. I will tell you the truth, no pretenses, and while you may be the one to feel the pain, I will be there to ease that pain with whatever I could offer—corny jokes, boosts of encouragement and just the mere knowledge that you are never alone in this battle. I hope that will be enough. And then, as what I have learned in the past few weeks, I will surrender the whole situation, as I have done time and again, in all the hurdles we’ve gone through. Surrender and believe. that God will never forsake us in every step of the way.
To end my blog article for the day, I want to share this video of Lito singing Rivermaya's Himala (Miracle). In a way, the lyrics are so relatable to him.. With this attitude and optimism, there's no room for pity.
(Miracles, is it wrong to ask the heavens for a miracle? )
