Musings on Life

We, Filipinos, do play up celebrating Christmas. But, I agree that we do make a big deal out of Christmas for good reasons, most central of which is family. Most reunions happen around Christmas time. And the biggest number of arrivals of OFWs is experienced during this time of the year.

Christmas, to me, is a function of family, Belen, noche buena, parol, simbang gabi, gifts and more gifts, and, of course, children. Kids love gifts! Don’t give them money. Kids love to open presents. Notice how their eyes light up? It’s amazing. Can’t put a price on a kid’s smile. It’s simply heart-warming. With long Christmas shopping lists, we tend to skimp on the gifts we buy. But, kids (well, at least those in the 1-7 age range) do not discriminate. They love toys! All sorts, branded or not. My six-year-old boy, Garrett, is always excited whenever he receives gifts. How he loves to read the tags that go: To Garrett, blah-blah-blah, From so and so. After unwrapping a gift, regardless of what it is, he would give out a big “WOW, it’s nice!”

I also associate Christmas with get-togethers (small and big scale) of friends and relatives you seldom see. Christmas is always a good reason to reconnect with people, to revive friendships, and restore communication. It is the time when people are generally kind and generous. Hence, to me, it is the best time of the year.

Christmas equals family. The holy family in Bethlehem, we all know of, is our source of inspiration. Noche buena gathers family members and offers a chance to just be together like how families should be. Feuding siblings often are left with no choice but to make peace amongst themselves in the spirit of Christmas.

There’s just one downside to Christmas I really do not like. With Christmas approaching, soon you will be driving away more kids knocking on your car windows, begging on the streets. To give them a few coins is to encourage them even more to beg. These kids have for the longest time bothered my conscience. My heart bleeds for them especially since I have two of my own already. We should all be bothered. Somehow, we should be doing something…

Fingers crossed, but just in case you, or someone close to you, ever need to have an MRI done, I’d strongly suggest that you go to Cardinal Santos MRI Center. It is highly recommended by my neurosurgeon, Eric Legaspi. Dr Legaspi, btw, graduated summa cum laude from UPLB for his pre-med and topped (read: First) the medical board the year he took it. I chose him after asking around and doing some research on the best neurosurgeons available.

Cardinal Santos MRI Center produces clear plates distinctly locating where the problem is. Aside from this, you’d have a better degree of confidence in the findings as only two very reliable doctors, Drs. Ison and Cheng read the plates.

I had my third MRI (of the sella/pituitary) last 25 August. My first was done in 2007 at Medical City, which took almost an hour. At Cardinal Santos, it takes much less, around 40 minutes, may be even less! I tell you, when you’re there encapsulated in a rocket-like machine, ears bombarded by loud sounds, and made to stay perfectly still (with very limited movements allowed between imaging sequences), one hour would seem like forever! You’d itch and want to scratch but if you do so, chances are they’d have to repeat the whole sequence.

My first MRI revealed a 7mm tumor in my pituitary gland. Just for reference, the pituitary gland is about the size of a pea (very small!) located at the base of the brain. Calling it a brain tumor may not be technically accurate, but it’s also not totally incorrect to name it as such, as it is still lodged in the brain area! 

So there, I had a brain tumor! I had it removed Feb 07. It  was producing excessive growth hormones (GH). If you had read my previous posts you would have come across the word “acromegaly.” That’s the condition that I have. A very rare disease in that only three to four out of every million people develop acromegaly each year and about 60 out of every million people suffer from the disease at any time. Now, don’t you think that having this disease kind of makes me extraordinary!!! Some consolation! I have yet to meet an acromegalic patient. I know of a few but they are all from other countries. We connect to share our experiences through a comon blog site: http://acromegalybloggers.blogspot.com/ (Please click on the hyperlink to learn more about acromegaly.)

My 12-week maternity leave is up. Huhu! I’m a working mom by choice and need. By choice since I could not imagine myself confined to the house 24/7. I would run out of things to do and would end up just calling Let often, and eventually morph into a person that is simply not ME. I’m not career-driven. Oh no! No high ambitions for me. But I feel that I’m just not cut out to be a full-time homemaker/housewife. But, hey, I’m all hands up to those who opted to be stay-at-home moms!

I’m back to work also because I need to be so. We could have chosen to live within my husband’s earnings but since we wanted our own house and to be able to send our kids to a good school, I need to help earn the dough. Who would not want of course to live comfortably? Somehow, it’s not enough to earn “just enough.”

The first morning when I left my little baby, Gabee, to go to work, she was already awake, flashing me with her smile and cooing. It was heart-breaking, I almost cried. It was difficult yet I was also quite excited about resuming work after doing almost nothing the last 2 months except caring for Gabee. She had developed an attachment to me since I’d been nursing her. When I get home, she’d cry when she hears my voice. She’d want to be carried and would turn her head from side wanting to be nursed. I still breastfeed her during the night and plan to continue nursing her as long as I can.

At times my conscience pricks me as I am now so completely dependent on the yaya. I’m thankful that Gabee’s yaya seems to care genuinely for her.

I just run home after work to again take my rightful place as Gabee’s mother.

The following article was, by a stroke of luck, got unexpectedly published in the Youngblood Section of Philippine Daily Inquirer in its Feb 10, 2000 issue. As I now have the luxury of time while I’m still on maternity leave, I retyped the piece (as published) so it could hopefully inspire people to fall madly in love–as doing so I believe is one of life’s most wonderful events!!!

I submitted this piece with my pen name "Pise," to make it anonymous although some friends and relatives, who knew me by that nickname, guessed that I wrote it.

At the bottom of the article, the following info about me appeared:

Pise, 24, works as a research associate at the University of the Philippines Los Banos while pursuing a master’s degree in development communication.

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If divorce were legal in this country, chances are our own statistics on divorce would approximate those of the United States. This thought leaves me wondering why, in the face of all the complexities that family life brings, I still cannot shake off my desire to be married.

I come from a broken home. But I was blessed to have a great woman for a mother. After my father deserted us, she picked up the pieces and strove to make us a family again. After some time, she met another man. And when they decided to live together, she brought me along.

I was only five then. My two older sisters stayed on with my lolo and lola, while my stepfather helped my mother raise me and paid for my education. Now, I have a 15-year-old sister by him, and she is the angel in the family.

To the credit of my mother as well as my stepfather and my grandparents, my sisters and I finished school. All of us are now gainfully employed.

The separation of my parents was not as traumatic to me as it was to my sisters. I don’t harbor any resentment against my father since I have very few memories of him. One thing I am sure of is that he was good-looking and he welcomed the attention the girls gave him. It still amuses me to dig up from my lola’s baul old pictures of him and his girlfriends.

My father took after my lolo, who also could not resist a temptress. My lolo was a soldier, and he had a wife wherever he was assigned, my lola said. And like my father, he had children by other women.

My eldest sister will be turning 33 this year. My father’s youngest child is just three years old. If he had remained faithful to my mother, he could have retired by now. But since he didn’t, he has to stay fit and work well into his 80s. Well, I suppose his six other children are now his source of pride and joy.

Still, it’s quite sad that he will not be the one to walk me down the aisle when the time comes. I think it’s proper that the one who raised me and sent me to school be the one to give my hand away. When my eldest sister got married, it was lolo who marched with her. We sent father an invitation, but he didn’t come.

Let me make it clear that it is not my intention to tarnish my father’s name. Our family’s history was never a secret. The truth might hurt a little, but we have come to terms with the past and I am happy with the way things turned out for all of us.

What I would like to write about is my fetish for marriage, which is quite strange since I know from experience the risks attached to it. I’ve been nagging my boyfriend to take me to the altar. And for about two years now, the talk about our wedding has spread like an infection. Wherever I go, people ask, “Is it true? When?” I guess the blame is on me because my standard reply is, “Yes, it will be soon.”

But I give that answer only to stop any further inquiries. It’s hard to find excuses for why we still have not settled on a date.

The truth is, it’s not only the date that my boyfriend and I are still trying to agree upon. There are a multitude of other details we have to thresh out.

He wants a simple wedding with only a selected few in attendance, I want all those who would like to come to be invited. He wants to hold the wedding in some faraway province to discourage guests from coming, I want everyone to celebrate with us.

He has other weird ideas, but I think he is just using them to send me one message: “Wait a minute, girl. I am not ready yet!” He insists that we should tell our guests to come in very casual wear (read: jeans and shirts), reasoning that he hates formal weddings where guests need to dress up and watch their manners. He says he wants everyone to feel happy and at ease during the wedding.

But his craziest idea yet is to indicate in our wedding invitation that we do not expect gifts, but instead, we will be charging an entrance fee for the reception. To me, that’s a surefire formula to to turn our would-be guests away. It is enough to make me cry whenever we discuss our wedding plans. So it is not surprising that while there has been much talk about our engagement, we have no definite plans until this time.

My boyfriend and I had an unconventional courtship. We were in the same batch in college and took the same course. At first, we were not even civil to each other. I thought he was too arrogant, but I had to admit that he was charming. He did not seem to notice that I existed and so I also did not take much notice of him.

Then after our graduation, circumstances forced us to be together. Our work took us to many provinces in Luzon. During the long trips we had to make, we would engage in casual chats while stuck together in a van for hours on end, and often ended exchanging barbs.

After the trips, he would, in his own unique style of storytelling, tell Kleng and Marlon (who happened to be my “sis” and “brod,” respectively, in a college organization) how much he hated me but would later admit he could not deny that I was affecting him. In my case, after spending several days and nights with him, I discovered with great surprise that he was a good and intelligent person. My disgust slowly melted and a deep admiration took its place.

Then one day, while our officemates, Alvin and Locel, were doing a survey in a distant province, I was left in the office with him. He asked me out after work. The timing was perfect as I could no longer contain the feelings I had been suppressing for months.

We went out and after gulping down a bottle of beer and a glass of margarita, I was instantly consumed by the alcohol, and the floodgates were opened. So there I was confessing how much I hated him for not showing any interest in me. I was gesticulating wildly while I told him everything. The sight of me acting drunk caught the attention of the bar owner who decided to come to our table with a cup of coffee, free of charge, to sober me up. But it was not the coffee that made me sober (I did not even touch it), it was the embarrassment. So we left the place in hurry and went to a playing field in a nearby school campus.

It was his turn to make a revelation. He said he was afraid to admit that he was falling for me but since I had already told him my feelings, there was no point in keeping his own to himself. We sat on a bench for several hours, telling each other about all the things that were important to us, including our families.

That eventful night of August 12, 1996 became the official date of our anniversary. We felt that it would be ridiculous to go through the process of ligawan as we aleady knew what the answer would be. Thus for a long time, our friends in the office had no idea that we were already going steady. I could not let them know since that did not even see him court me.

After that night, I knew in my heart that he was the one for me. I felt how good God could really be. I was not expecting such a beautiful blessing, He gave it to me unexpectedly. Amid all the chaos in the world, life is full of wonderful surprises.

I have been in this heady state of being in love for about four years now. And each day I thank God for entrusting me to a man I know I will one day marry. Meeting him changed my perspective on marriage. I have no worries about what lies ahead. I trust him completely. He makes me want to grab the future and build my own family as soon as possible.

I know my boyfriend is still hesitating to take the plunge, but I know that he wants to do it as much as I do. And now that everyone we know will start anticipating our wedding on account of this article, he might just be finally convinced to take me for his wife.

Gabee, 33 weeks now in my tummy, is keeping me awake. It’s now almost 2 am, and rather than continue turning around in bed, trying to find a comfy sleeping position, I decided to instead get out of bed, and attempt to tire myself to sleep with a little post here on friendster

As it’s been 6 years since my first pregnancy, I’ve been reading up again on pregnancy stuff, and just learned that at 33 weeks, the baby could actually come out any time. Before, I was of the belief like many others, that it’s safe to deliver at 7 months, but not so if you reach 8 months. Medically, however, it is logically safer to deliver as one becomes more advanced into the pregnancy, since baby’s lungs and other vital organs become more developed as baby nears its full term. So much for the old myth then. Given the possible scenario of early delivery, I should now have a bag ready to bring to the hospital.

It’s true that when you’re having your second baby, you kind of take some things, such as packing for the hospital, a bit for granted. While I was all excited to do every preparation possible the first time around, now, I’ve been kind of delaying everything… Psychologically, by doing so, I might unconsciously be delaying as well the anxiety of going through the pains of raising another child. It’s wonderful, of course, to have been blessed with another baby! First-time moms are excited to test out motherhood; second-time moms, although still excited, are more reluctant as they know the real thing already! It’s not all cooing and bonding moments… With it comes a lot of changes in the household, to which options are often limited. When your little angel comes out, he/she will definitely rule your life and disrupt your routine for the time being while he/she completely depends on mom. Sacrifice. That’s the buzz word! But the joy that the little angel brings is worth all of it—no matter how hard and tiring the ordeal can be.

It was a bit tough raising my firstborn, Garrett, who will turn six this October. He was a bit delayed in speaking and so we had to take him to speech therapy sessions for two years. Though a healthy child, I had my share of scares during several hospital confinements he had. Now, as if making up for being unable to express himself before, he’s become talkative attempting to express himself in English and Tagalog. When I was four months on the way and my tummy was beginning to show, he had started asking if my tummy hurt. He would ask, “Mommy, masakit na tummy mo? Go to the hospital na.” Innocently and to my delight, he would ask me, “Mommy, spit it out na, para come out na siya.” He thought at first the the only opening from where our baby would come out is my mouth! But now that he’s even more interested than me to read pregnancy books, leafing through the pages, he has come across pictures which made him learn that the baby will come out between mom’s legs—that’s as far as he knows!

Garrett is the most excited in the family. He’d often touch my tummy and ask if Gabee was moving, and also ask if it were June already, as he knows that Gabee’s due date is June 25. He’d still often ask if my tummy’s already hurting. He said he’d go to the hospital with me, and promised that he’d behave and just “sit on daddy’s lap,” while baby Gabee comes out.

Gabee is already doing wonders for her big brother. She has expanded his imagination. As early as now, Garrett is preparing to be the big "kuya," ready to teach Gabee things that Mommy is teaching him—brushing his teeth, wearing his clothes and shoes, etc. And just yesterday, he has initiated to be weaned from the bottle. We have been trying to take him off the bottle but had never been successful until now. I told him that Gabee should be the only one drinking from the bottle because she’s still a baby, and since he’s a “kuya” now, he should start drinking his milk from the glass. I was very happy when I saw how hard it was for him to do so for the first time. But with so much effort, trying to suppress throwing up, he finished off one glass. I will not forget the smile he had on his face as if he won something! Afterwards, he gave me a kiss and greeted me, “Happy Mother’s Day!” Now, that’s something mothers would never exchange for anything!

I am happy and blessed beyond measure!!! Incidentally, it’s Mother’s Day, so, Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!

It was Christmas. We went to visit my grandmother and cousins in the province to give our gifts. I was alright. I was not feeling sick at all. My husband and I just decided that it was time that we have our second child as our firstborn was already four years old. I just withdrew from contraceptives two months back.

When I alighted from the car, I was greeted by two old friends/neighbors from my home place. It was one happy, curious inquiry that would lead to succeeding life-changing episodes… I was simply asked if I were pregnant–to which my simple retort was why did they think I was…. Then came the innocent comment that my nose was as big as it was when I had my first pregnancy. That was it!

Such innocent comment, unknowing to the one who gave it, confirmed my growing dislike of how I looked, especially in the recent pictures taken during an office Christmas lunch-out. I looked different–ugly, in fact, to my eyes! Not that my nose was perfect or small before but certainly it was not so big as to make me shun from having my pictures taken. And my eyes seemed to have become smaller, appearing puffy as if I had just cried.

Apprehensive and very much affected by the honest criticism on my appearance, I went right away to see any available doctor in a nearby clinic. Most doctors were out on their Christmas break. The doctor I chanced upon specializes in internal medicine; she had to call her OB-GYN professor to seek for advice on my case as she could not place where the swelling was coming from, i.e., other than being pregnant. She ordered a pregnancy test and asked me to stop any medication I was taking (I was taking antibiotics prescribed by my dermatologist then), and advised me to see an OB-GYN.

When office resumed in January, I immediately set an appointment with our company’s OB-GYN consultant, who, just like the first doctor I saw, seemed to be out of wits in being able to diagnose my condition. She said that it was very unlikely for the swelling to be caused by an early pregnancy stage. She had some blood tests done and referred me to another doctor. The third doctor that I saw had more blood work done plus a liver ultrasound. Everything came back normal except for the thyroid tests which gave slightly indicative abnormal findings. That made her refer me to an endocrinologist. Finally, I was with the right doctor.

At my first consult, all I could tell my endocrinologist was that people in the province whom I saw last Christmas after almost a year noticed that I looked as if I was pregnant again. I told her that I dismissed my condition as just something that could be related to my abrupt withdrawal from the pill which I had been taking for almost 4 years. She queried if my shoe and ring size had increased over the years. I was size 6.5 just right after college, became 7 after giving birth, and four years after, I was even size 8.5 at times! My engagement and wedding rings used to easily fall off with a little soap when I wore them on my left ring finger, but recently, they had become so tight on the left, leaving etched circle marks on my finger when removed, and would not fit on my right ring finger.

That first consult with my endo was to be succeeded by several visits that eventually led to an MRI exam, results of which confirmed my endo’s first impression, that it was indeed acromegaly!!! She said that she had approached my case systematically before reaching her diagnosis. On one of my visits, she assured me and my husband that she would not refer me for surgery were she not 100% sure!

Acceptance of my condition came not as hard for me as it did for Let, my husband. Not a few times did he say that increased shoe and ring size could not be accepted as symptoms as these are experienced by all people who gain weight. His point was that how could I be easily diagnosed with acromegaly when I was not manifesting symptoms other than aging appearance and increased shoe and ring size. He would say that my nose was really big right from the start, especially when all my hormones came back normal after the blood tests. All except for my growth hormone, which was barely suppressed after a glucose load. While Let was still in a "denial" stage, so to speak, I would search the web, trying to make sense of the repetitive medical stuff about acromegaly on google. I felt that I had most of the symptoms of acromegaly: swelling of nose, fingers and feet; excessive sweating; oily skin; snoring; fatigue.

With some bitterness, I accepted my circumstances, sought for healing and gave it all up to God. This could not be as hard as cancer–such was the thought that made me accept my condition easier. In fact, God knew I had it, and even before it was discovered, he was preparing me for it. He first made me move to a new job with an organization that has a comprehensive medical insurance. The diagnosis coincided with my appointment confirmation (on my first year anniversary). The surgery was then scheduled posthaste. Had I still been with the government institution I was before, the sickness I have would have cost all of my husband’s savings and more. Rare as the disease is, curing and managing it is very expensive. I might had been worried sick of our finances on top of being worried of excessive growth hormone in my body. God has a reason for this. He chose not to give it to anyone, he chose me among the few that He knew could survive it.

1 February 2007 was a day in my life that could have been my last if there were surgical complications. But, it came to pass! Before the surgery, my feeling was that I was prepared for anything but the possibility that I could be leaving behind a four-year old kid without a mommy. I believe that that was the single thing I was most afraid about. I could not hold back my tears as I was fetched from my room and wheeled into the operating room. One nurse whispered before she wheeled me inside the OR, "God bless, ma’am." That had me crying even more. My son was all I could think of. I was seeking God’s grace for forgiveness of my sins and praying for my life, for my son…

Through the ordeal of the surgery, not once did my husband leave me. He was my anchor, a reminder that my life was precious, that I was still needed. My family stood by me as well, helping as much as they could to make the ordeal seemed just like another confinement.

Life is too precious indeed to be claimed by acromegaly. Five months after the surgery, my postoperative MRI is indicative of a subtle residual tumor measuring 3 mm. But, there’s hope. I’d bet that acromegaly could only make me look less beautiful but it could never claim my life. My battle goes on, with only God knowing how and in which way it will go…

It’s been a year since my last post that I’m actually feeling rusty about writing even a simple one… Heck! ‘tis the new year 2007, eh? I let 2006 pass with just two posts that I wrote in its first month. So maybe this first of January ‘07, I ought to make a resolve, kind of a new year’s resolution of sorts, that I’d try to update my blog at least once every quarter so that I’d at least have four at the end of the year. Yeah, maybe that’s what I’d do. This makes it then my first post for this quarter… Hahaha! It’s obvious now that I really have forgotten how to write because I’m blabbering…but then again, I truly don’t feel like I’m a writer. However, I had received quite a few positive feedbacks from friends who took an interest in this blog and actually enjoyed the stuff in it. To you: thank you. I hope you had glossed over my grammatical slip-ups as I know my articles are riddled with mistakes here and there.
What had made this blog interesting among my small circle of friends and some other acquaintances even if my style and pool of vocabulary border on the mushy-corny side? My guess is that because my articles are an easy read. No need to think through the words. What you read is what’s really on my mind…

Now let me share how I breezed through 2006; it feels like the last year just passed… Work was all it was about for me. I immersed myself totally in work that there was hardly any time for me to do things that I had wanted to do if given a choice. On weekends, there were of course my son and household chores that needed attending to, leaving little time to rest and do non-routine stuff like browsing the net, watching series on DVD, reading girls’ magazines, and blogging. Not that I’m working big time as a bank manager or a magazine editor or any of those high-level demanding designations. Far from it in fact, as I now work as an AA (familiar acronym eh?) Need I spell it out? Okay, administrative assistant. I did not know that this job could be more challenging than being managing editor of a refereed, locally published journal (my previous job). But it turned out that an AA designation obtains a different connotation and requires a degree of intellect and loads of common sense when it is a designation in the organizational structure of an international, multi-lateral institution. Not surprisingly, AAs in this kind of organization graduated from reputable schools and quite frankly are very good; many even have master’s degrees. Although the job also entails punching holes on papers for binding, making copies of docs, answering the phone, it’s a job that had unnerved me, made my heart pound, my hands shake and my voice quiver on a good number of occasions. You have to do things right; there’s little room for mistakes lest you disappoint your supervisors and be given a poor performance evaluation. My probationary period ends on 9 January ‘07 ; I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’d be given a satisfactory evaluation as it will be the basis for recommending my salary increase—and, of course, the truth of the matter is that one works mainly for the dough…and that general statement applies to me as well; but I would have to add that being associated with an organization such as the one I’m with now, although I’m at the very bottom of the work chain, bears a significant weight to me personally.

It’s quite late now…I’ll try to finish this piece another time when work is not as stressful as it usually was in the past year… I’m praying for tomorrow to be a good first working day of the year—the second of at least 20 years that I plan to stay with this organization…but, hopefully, somewhere in those years I’d be able to graduate from my present designation. But that is really is up to me… May I be able to equip myself for a better position come the right time.

I’ve missed writing about a major episode in my life that came to pass one sullen Saturday of 17 Dec. 2005. The skies were already forewarning of rains when I awoke that morning. I was feeling downcast and not in the mood to prepare for a Christmas party which we had already been anticipating two weeks before.

The party was exclusive for the sales force of my husband’s company and their families. We were asked to come in a costume. But, I dared not go wearing one and meet most of my husband’s colleagues for the first time. I was shy. I complained to my husband that why should even the wives be made to wear a costume when his company had no whatsoever authority over us. We weren’t in their payroll in the first place. Well, the fact that his ATM card is in my wallet is still beside the point. I, too, am working and I would only wear some fantasy costume in a party given out by my office. I think it was because of my kill-joy stance that they did not anymore require costumes for the wives as well; my husband relayed my opinion to his boss.

We came to the party with my husband falling short of looking like Panday (ala FPJ); my son as a cute Batman without the mask (I couldn’t make him wear the mask and cape); and me just in jeans and shirt (the kill-joy wife in the group because most others did went in costumes; one was even garbed as Snow White—imagine that! But it might be interesting to mention here that she was the fiancé of one sales staff, if you get what I mean: “pasaway na kasi ‘pag asawa na, gaya ko“).

In the middle of the party when I, too, was starting to relax and enjoy myself came the text message from my sister. It did not exactly come as a blow anymore. We had brace ourselves for “it.” It was to happen inevitably but when it did, tears just welled and escaped my eyes. It took a moment for the news to really sink in. Where’s he now? That was the question that kept playing in my mind along with memories of him picking me up from school, buying me ice cream after each visit to the dentist, walking me down the aisle during my wedding, telling me to take extra care when I was pregnant….and so on. Now, he’s gone. For good. Was I able to give back in full all that he did for me? For sending me to school, for taking on the responsibilities my biological father ran away from when I was but a four-year old kid. I think not. For one, you could never be able to repay someone for his/her kindness. His kindness stretched to my other sisters and most of all to my mother. He was a big part of our lives.

Now, I could only look up to the great sky and pray that he’s found his rest. He’ll be remembered with fondness. May the angels that bring our prayers to God find him wherever he is now and extend to him my love and gratefulness that I failed to fully express when he was still with us.

It’s now 12:15 a.m., January 9, the day I’ll start my new work in Ortigas. Heck! I should be getting that sleep which isn’t coming as it is; I’m SO wide awake! Heck! I should not have taken my usual weekend siesta. I wonder how I’d look like 8 hours from now when I finally jumpstart my new career of being an admin. assistant. Hey, I’m now a small fish in a big bowl (to quote my tests-mate, the one I was always scheduled with during the exams, even in the retake of one computer program exam). It’s the work environment and the opportunities that lie ahead that do matter this time, as that tests-mate of mine would also say.

So, today marks yet another BIG day in my humble life. May I be welcomed by new, friendly faces in a very different environment I’d be trudging into with nothing but a wish in my heart that I’d make it there for the long haul… Good luck to me then…

This is really “it.” I’ve turned in my resignation yesterday. And this morning, I got a surprise call on my cell phone from the University Chancellor himself asking me about it. Well, he just happens to be the new Chancellor, I guess. Just several months back, prior to his appointment, I gave his name as a reference in my failed application at CIP (it’s not important that I spell that out). And he wrote a very nice recommendation letter for me. He even gave me a copy when he saw me one time at his office. I was flattered. And although I did not get the post I applied for, it was a consolation that people like him saw me in the way that he did. Sad that I’ll be leaving the university I’ve been with the last eight and a half years now that he’s just assumed office. Well, it’s already sad that I’m leaving to start with, but to leave at this particular time makes it a tad more saddening.

I am going around the campus now to have my clearance sheet signed by various offices. My resignation will take effect 31 December. Not that I’m too eager to be out of this place; I just want all things prepared ahead of time to avoid any last-minute fuss.

University of the Philippines Los Baños (UPLB). My home. I first saw light here; I was born here in 1975. I went to Manila when I was four years old, came back again in 1990, went away again for a year. Then, started my college here in 1992. Got my first job here. Had a chance to leave to work in Manila but preferred to come back. Fell in love and eventually got married here. Had our wedding at the National Arts Centre in Mt. Makiling. Gave birth to my son at the Los Banos Doctors Hospital. Essentially then, I have spent half of my life here.

Now, a new job is going to take me to Manila once more. For the meantime, we will keep our apartment here. Whereas, now I could jump out of bed as late as 7:30 in the morning and still be in office at 8:15, come January I’d have to wake up no later than 5:00 a.m. and be out of the house at 5:30 a.m. I might probably get home at 8 p.m. if I leave Manila at 5:30 p.m. These are among a number of trade-offs I’d have to live with for an entry-level local staff position in a multi-lateral organization in Ortigas.

I’m all excited. Yes, the pay, plus the benefits, is one big factor for my leaving UPLB for another organization. Change in work environment is another. The opportunity for career advancement may be another, although I prefer to take things one at a time for now.

UPLB remains in my heart as an ideal place to settle in. Opportunities are just too limited for the many professionals who have chosen to reside here. Professional competition is tough. In fact, a Ph.D. degree in this scientific community has already become ordinary. A faculty cannot be given tenure unless he’s obtained his doctorate degree. I guess, my place is just not here, profession-wise, mainly because I am not a faculty member. I’m no research scientist either. And getting a Ph.D. is the last thing on my mind right now after completing my master’s just last April.

So to UPLB, many thanks… For the quality education and professional training. For the nice and many intellectually challenging people. For the gifts of nature that have calmed my soul on many occasions. For the feeling of safety I could not feel anywhere else. For that sense of familiarity with everything here. My heart is yours. My life has been shaped by momentous events that you have been witness to. You shall be my resting place when my time comes… I’ll be back to stay forever….