my mother and i were listening to a radio promo for some event featuring barbie almalbis (of the now-defunct barbie's cradle).
without warning, she became really agitated. "her name is barbie? why is she named 'BARBIE'?"
"um ... mother? you are talking to someone named ORANGE ... and YOU gave me that name."
"yes, but 'orange' is a nickname."
ahaaaa.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
from the mt pulag files: when you wheeze upon a star
so i said i would climb a mountain. and i did.
am now a million stories richer.
ok, that was an exaggeration. i probably have just 4 or 5 good ones, but at the top of the list is a sordid tale that involves two doctors, an obstinate patient and some warming oil.
one would think that if there were three doctors joining a climb to the peak of the second-highest mountain in the country, one would be relatively at ease in case of medical emergencies. it may be a different scenario however, if, say, one of the doctors (aka me) unintentionally becomes the patient.
it was the only night we had to stay in the mountains, so i wasn't too worried about it. what could possibly go wrong, right? the answer is (all together now ...) "a lot."
first of all, when you are instructed to KEEP WARM, just do it. don't assume that because you're warm enough just before sleeping, you will be warm all throughout the night. and that i was: warm enough just before sleeping.
anyway, i lay there on the cold, hard mountain with only a thin layer of tent floor plus sarong plus fleece jacket between my skin and pulag, fully expecting to drift into dreamland. it didn't happen. for about an hour, i listened to my three tentmates snore their way through the night and wondered if their sounds could lull me to sleep. they didn't. i couldn't sleep even if i tried all the tricks in the book: praying, changing positions, counting the angles in the tent roof, counting sheep, counting the fleas in the fleece of sheep (if you flease, do sheep's fleece have fleas?) ... until i slowly but surely realized:
i couldn't breathe.
at first it was a mild thought, as in "hmm, i'm getting congested", which would make any person automatically breathe through his or her mouth, which i did. and then the thought turned rather medical, as in "i am very aware of my breathing. i know i'm hyperventilating. why am i hyperventilating?" until finally, when i had to breathe violently through my mouth and could hear myself wheezing, my thoughts turned morbid, as in "i can't breathe!!! i'm going to die in the mountains because there are no hospitals in mt pulag!!! my parents will kill me for dying in the mountains!!!" (i didn't say these were entirely rational thoughts.)
anyway, my breathing got so noisy that DJ* woke up.
(*not "DJ" as in "hey mister DJ put a record on i wanna dance with my baby", but more like "i-like-using-nonsensical-aliases-in-my-blog-for-kicks"-type of DJ. i have to hide the identities of my friends to protect their flourishing careers. from hereon, my doctor-characters will be called DJ and DD, who may or may not be clinic administrators or oncologists. i'm not going to say. it is also important to note at this point that DJ and DD are, supposedly, my close, personal friends.)
he woke up in a semi-panic, asking me what was wrong. meanwhile, i was trying to figure out how to treat myself (attempting to be the brave doctor that i was not).
1. was i feeling suffocated? i let some of the mountain air in through the tent door and like an ungrateful guest, the breeze slapped my cheek hard. maybe that wasn't the best idea.
2. was i cold? i wasn't sure so i put my gloves back on. wheee.
3. was i having an asthmatic attack? DJ suggested that i take a puff from his salbutamol inhaler (which, in a serendipitous twist, DJ – who may or may not be asthmatic – decided to keep handy during the night). i agreed, but realized just before puffing that i didn't know how to use it.
fact of life: it is difficult to be a fast learner while you are struggling for air. so as he was trying to explain how to use the inhaler, i couldn't fully comprehend it and ended up spraying my tongue with the medication. it doesn't take a genius to know that the stuff is supposed to go down your airway, not land on your tongue, unless your tongue was having an asthmatic attack.
after many tries, DJ eventually convinced me that it was a good idea to wake up DD (the third doctor), who was in another tent. i initially didn't want to wake anyone up, not knowing that almost all my campmates were awake anyway, on account of my raucous breathing. DJ ran over to where DD was and tried to rouse him with what he thought was an alarming statement: "eng can't breathe!"
to this, DD and tentmate gave the expected "huwhat??!!" ... and promptly fell back asleep.
after he realized that no one was coming out of DD's tent, DJ asked mr tentmate if DD woke up. mr tentmate (a nondoctor who may or may not have a brokeback thing going on with DD) had to force my friend (if i have to emphasize this a million times, i will) DD to get out and see what was going on.
meanwhile, i was still inside my own tent, still trying to breathe normally and failing, and wondering what in the world was keeping my two doctors from DOING SOMETHING ABOUT THEIR FRIEND'S EMERGENCY.
DD and DJ finally arrived. one of the first things DD said to me was, "i wish i had a stethoscope." i just looked at him blankly. DD ignored my look and asked, "may i listen to your chest?"
maybe on the real brink of death, i would let go of common decency and let the doctor listen to my chest, but i still had some fighting spirit left so i wheezily said, "you can listen to my back (you strange man you)."
after he did what he had to do with my back (probably took a little nap back there), DD suggested i take another puff of the inhaler, and took the time to re-teach me how to do it properly.
at around that time, someone brought up the idea of warming oil, in case i was actually cold and didn't know it. so one of my campmates (i was seated but hunched over – i really couldn't see what was going on) gave DD and DJ the bottle.
after a longish pause, i heard DD and DJ discuss a bit and conclude with, "how do you use warming oil?"
upon hearing this, i inhaled with all my might and semi-shouted, "i'm going to die in the mountains because my doctors are stupid!!!"
thankfully, one of my smart nondoctor girlfriends volunteered to apply the warming oil on my back. while she was spreading the oil, however, i was distinctly aware of a third hand applying oil on my right elbow. MY RIGHT ELBOW. if you wanted to cover as much surface area as possible, what body part would you choose? honestly. (i found out later that it was DD: "it was the only part i could reach.")
three successful puffs and a decongestant pill later, DD wanted me to try something else.
"i think you should drink coffee because it might help."
"why?!" i shouted. (let's all keep in mind that i wasn't breathing properly, ergo, the oxygen was having a hard time getting its way to my neurons.)
"it has theophylline, so it's the next best thing ..."
"it's not proven!!!"
"can you please just try it?"
"no!!!"
"why not??"
"i don't want to pee in the mountain!!!"
if you are not female and have never tried urinating as a female in the wild, do not judge me.
anyway, i'm getting tired of this story so let me just cut it here and say i finally succeeded in sleeping that fateful night.
the next morning, i woke up to the happy sensation of normal breathing. over breakfast, DD and DJ swore they never wanted to be my doctors ever again in this lifetime. they said they knew doctors were bad patients, but i was just a stubborn, angry, ungrateful, unreasonable bitch (not their words). in fairness to the bitch, may i just say ... i couldn't breathe! should i have been nicer? i may or may not have the answer to that one.
epilogue: DJ, DD and i are all still good friends to this day, my right elbow is softer than the left one, and DJ always keeps his inhaler nearby ... just in case we run into another mountain.
am now a million stories richer.
ok, that was an exaggeration. i probably have just 4 or 5 good ones, but at the top of the list is a sordid tale that involves two doctors, an obstinate patient and some warming oil.
one would think that if there were three doctors joining a climb to the peak of the second-highest mountain in the country, one would be relatively at ease in case of medical emergencies. it may be a different scenario however, if, say, one of the doctors (aka me) unintentionally becomes the patient.
it was the only night we had to stay in the mountains, so i wasn't too worried about it. what could possibly go wrong, right? the answer is (all together now ...) "a lot."
first of all, when you are instructed to KEEP WARM, just do it. don't assume that because you're warm enough just before sleeping, you will be warm all throughout the night. and that i was: warm enough just before sleeping.
 |
| where i wheezed |
i couldn't breathe.
at first it was a mild thought, as in "hmm, i'm getting congested", which would make any person automatically breathe through his or her mouth, which i did. and then the thought turned rather medical, as in "i am very aware of my breathing. i know i'm hyperventilating. why am i hyperventilating?" until finally, when i had to breathe violently through my mouth and could hear myself wheezing, my thoughts turned morbid, as in "i can't breathe!!! i'm going to die in the mountains because there are no hospitals in mt pulag!!! my parents will kill me for dying in the mountains!!!" (i didn't say these were entirely rational thoughts.)
anyway, my breathing got so noisy that DJ* woke up.
(*not "DJ" as in "hey mister DJ put a record on i wanna dance with my baby", but more like "i-like-using-nonsensical-aliases-in-my-blog-for-kicks"-type of DJ. i have to hide the identities of my friends to protect their flourishing careers. from hereon, my doctor-characters will be called DJ and DD, who may or may not be clinic administrators or oncologists. i'm not going to say. it is also important to note at this point that DJ and DD are, supposedly, my close, personal friends.)
he woke up in a semi-panic, asking me what was wrong. meanwhile, i was trying to figure out how to treat myself (attempting to be the brave doctor that i was not).
1. was i feeling suffocated? i let some of the mountain air in through the tent door and like an ungrateful guest, the breeze slapped my cheek hard. maybe that wasn't the best idea.
2. was i cold? i wasn't sure so i put my gloves back on. wheee.
3. was i having an asthmatic attack? DJ suggested that i take a puff from his salbutamol inhaler (which, in a serendipitous twist, DJ – who may or may not be asthmatic – decided to keep handy during the night). i agreed, but realized just before puffing that i didn't know how to use it.
fact of life: it is difficult to be a fast learner while you are struggling for air. so as he was trying to explain how to use the inhaler, i couldn't fully comprehend it and ended up spraying my tongue with the medication. it doesn't take a genius to know that the stuff is supposed to go down your airway, not land on your tongue, unless your tongue was having an asthmatic attack.
after many tries, DJ eventually convinced me that it was a good idea to wake up DD (the third doctor), who was in another tent. i initially didn't want to wake anyone up, not knowing that almost all my campmates were awake anyway, on account of my raucous breathing. DJ ran over to where DD was and tried to rouse him with what he thought was an alarming statement: "eng can't breathe!"
to this, DD and tentmate gave the expected "huwhat??!!" ... and promptly fell back asleep.
after he realized that no one was coming out of DD's tent, DJ asked mr tentmate if DD woke up. mr tentmate (a nondoctor who may or may not have a brokeback thing going on with DD) had to force my friend (if i have to emphasize this a million times, i will) DD to get out and see what was going on.
meanwhile, i was still inside my own tent, still trying to breathe normally and failing, and wondering what in the world was keeping my two doctors from DOING SOMETHING ABOUT THEIR FRIEND'S EMERGENCY.
DD and DJ finally arrived. one of the first things DD said to me was, "i wish i had a stethoscope." i just looked at him blankly. DD ignored my look and asked, "may i listen to your chest?"
maybe on the real brink of death, i would let go of common decency and let the doctor listen to my chest, but i still had some fighting spirit left so i wheezily said, "you can listen to my back (you strange man you)."
after he did what he had to do with my back (probably took a little nap back there), DD suggested i take another puff of the inhaler, and took the time to re-teach me how to do it properly.
at around that time, someone brought up the idea of warming oil, in case i was actually cold and didn't know it. so one of my campmates (i was seated but hunched over – i really couldn't see what was going on) gave DD and DJ the bottle.
after a longish pause, i heard DD and DJ discuss a bit and conclude with, "how do you use warming oil?"
upon hearing this, i inhaled with all my might and semi-shouted, "i'm going to die in the mountains because my doctors are stupid!!!"
thankfully, one of my smart nondoctor girlfriends volunteered to apply the warming oil on my back. while she was spreading the oil, however, i was distinctly aware of a third hand applying oil on my right elbow. MY RIGHT ELBOW. if you wanted to cover as much surface area as possible, what body part would you choose? honestly. (i found out later that it was DD: "it was the only part i could reach.")
three successful puffs and a decongestant pill later, DD wanted me to try something else.
"i think you should drink coffee because it might help."
"why?!" i shouted. (let's all keep in mind that i wasn't breathing properly, ergo, the oxygen was having a hard time getting its way to my neurons.)
"it has theophylline, so it's the next best thing ..."
"it's not proven!!!"
"can you please just try it?"
"no!!!"
"why not??"
"i don't want to pee in the mountain!!!"
if you are not female and have never tried urinating as a female in the wild, do not judge me.
anyway, i'm getting tired of this story so let me just cut it here and say i finally succeeded in sleeping that fateful night.
the next morning, i woke up to the happy sensation of normal breathing. over breakfast, DD and DJ swore they never wanted to be my doctors ever again in this lifetime. they said they knew doctors were bad patients, but i was just a stubborn, angry, ungrateful, unreasonable bitch (not their words). in fairness to the bitch, may i just say ... i couldn't breathe! should i have been nicer? i may or may not have the answer to that one.
 |
| DD, still thinking about how to use warming oil |
epilogue: DJ, DD and i are all still good friends to this day, my right elbow is softer than the left one, and DJ always keeps his inhaler nearby ... just in case we run into another mountain.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
hippo hop hooray
it's easter today – a day that represents the seemingly impossible, pleasant surprises and, most of all, coming to life.
and so it seems like the perfect time to yield to intense easter pressure: i am officially reviving my dead blog.
(if i fail to blog regularly again, i will delete this entry. remind me.)
so anyway, remember juancho? (and you thought i would write about something else ...)
very pregnant mom of juanch: juancho, what is tita eng (me, fyi)?
juancho: she is a brilliant writer with a smashing personality and a generous spirit.
ok, he didn't really say that. i will, however, teach him that answer as soon as he can pronounce the letter 'r' pwopowly.
what he really said was ...
juancho: a doctor!
vpmoj: what is mom?
juancho: an interior designer!
vpmoj: what is tatay*?
juancho: tatay is ... a hippo!
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
i hope this boy stays funny forever (with apologies to the hippo).
-------------------
*tatay means 'father' – if you want to know why juancho's parents are 'mom and tatay' and not 'mom and dad' or 'nanay and tatay', email me. but really, don't you have better things to do?
and so it seems like the perfect time to yield to intense easter pressure: i am officially reviving my dead blog.
(if i fail to blog regularly again, i will delete this entry. remind me.)
so anyway, remember juancho? (and you thought i would write about something else ...)
very pregnant mom of juanch: juancho, what is tita eng (me, fyi)?
juancho: she is a brilliant writer with a smashing personality and a generous spirit.
ok, he didn't really say that. i will, however, teach him that answer as soon as he can pronounce the letter 'r' pwopowly.
what he really said was ...
juancho: a doctor!
vpmoj: what is mom?
juancho: an interior designer!
vpmoj: what is tatay*?
juancho: tatay is ... a hippo!
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
i hope this boy stays funny forever (with apologies to the hippo).
-------------------
*tatay means 'father' – if you want to know why juancho's parents are 'mom and tatay' and not 'mom and dad' or 'nanay and tatay', email me. but really, don't you have better things to do?
Sunday, March 05, 2006
ain't no mountain high enough, or so i think
thanks to peer pressure (apparently, 30-somethings still buckle), i am going to do the unimaginable. much to my horror, i was shoved out of my comfort zone and found myself committing to a CLIMB.
i will climb a mountain this friday.
of course this isn't hardcore climbing. i have been assured that 10-year-olds have hurdled this particular trail, and i suspect that because i know this, pride will be the single most important factor that will drive me to reach the peak. regardless of level of difficulty though, it is still a mountain. and it is still something i never ever thought i would do.
as this is probably the first and last time i am going to do this, i am deciding to milk the event for all its worth. as it turns out, it's a great way to get out of other stuff. for instance:
"can you meet the friday deadline?"
"i need an extension. i'm going to climb a mountain."
"can you meet me for dinner this thursday?"
"oh no, sorry, i'm going to climb a mountain."
"please run away with me by the end of the week."
"oh i can't. i'm going to climb a mountain."
i may or may not be missing the point of the activity.
so if after this week, my blog becomes stagnant again, it might not be my run-of-the-mill laziness, ok? it's entirely possible that i ... stayed (sounds better than "met my untimely demise"?) ... in the mountain. so there. ha!
mountain climbing. the ultimate excuse.
i will climb a mountain this friday.
of course this isn't hardcore climbing. i have been assured that 10-year-olds have hurdled this particular trail, and i suspect that because i know this, pride will be the single most important factor that will drive me to reach the peak. regardless of level of difficulty though, it is still a mountain. and it is still something i never ever thought i would do.
as this is probably the first and last time i am going to do this, i am deciding to milk the event for all its worth. as it turns out, it's a great way to get out of other stuff. for instance:
"can you meet the friday deadline?"
"i need an extension. i'm going to climb a mountain."
"can you meet me for dinner this thursday?"
"oh no, sorry, i'm going to climb a mountain."
"please run away with me by the end of the week."
"oh i can't. i'm going to climb a mountain."
i may or may not be missing the point of the activity.
so if after this week, my blog becomes stagnant again, it might not be my run-of-the-mill laziness, ok? it's entirely possible that i ... stayed (sounds better than "met my untimely demise"?) ... in the mountain. so there. ha!
mountain climbing. the ultimate excuse.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
something *i* didn't know about myself
they say children are close to God's heart so when i was conveniently beside juancho (the ever-famous – to me at least – 3-year-old nephew) while he was saying his evening prayer, i semi-jokingly whispered into his ear:
"ask God to give tita eng (that's me, in case you were the least bit interested) a husband, ok?"
so juancho obediently droned, "and please give tita eng a husband."
after a long pause, he turned to his mom (who was on the other side of the bed we were on) and said:
"mom, tita eng is sad. that's why she's looking for a husband."
[insert deadpan expression here]
in case you were waiting for further clarifications, denials or confirmations from me, i will warn you right now that there will be none of the sort. there will be, however, a question: since when have 3-year-olds become so introspective?
-------------------
newsflash: juancho's mom is giving birth sometime in june or july. juancho is going to have a sister! my blog will have a new character/miniature psychoanalyst! wheeee!
"ask God to give tita eng (that's me, in case you were the least bit interested) a husband, ok?"
so juancho obediently droned, "and please give tita eng a husband."
after a long pause, he turned to his mom (who was on the other side of the bed we were on) and said:
"mom, tita eng is sad. that's why she's looking for a husband."
[insert deadpan expression here]
in case you were waiting for further clarifications, denials or confirmations from me, i will warn you right now that there will be none of the sort. there will be, however, a question: since when have 3-year-olds become so introspective?
-------------------
newsflash: juancho's mom is giving birth sometime in june or july. juancho is going to have a sister! my blog will have a new character/miniature psychoanalyst! wheeee!
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