Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

No, I'm not talking about Wall Street, not at all because the fall took place at around 2:30 or 3:00 this morning. Yes, I fell not off a wall, but off the bed.

Last night, after I bathed at around 6:30, I felt my eyes so itchy that I decided to take a Benadryl antihistamine capsule. I had been postponing doing so the past days because of work (see post in derdo.wordpress.com "I was fired"). I couldn't afford to sleep then. But with that work gone kaput and just one pending, no rush pa, I thought it was about time I should take medicine for my allergy (watery eyes, sniffles etc.). When my son arrived at around 9, he looked surprised that I was asleep. How did I know that? I woke up, apparently looked just awakened by his noise. Then after some light chitchat, I dozed off again. The maid even had to come in without being called to change me. I was so zonked out. I asked her to turn me so I could sleep comfortably, she turned me in the wrong direction. When I looked, I saw husband sleeping soundly so instead of asking him to correct my position, I asked my son. Then I dozed off again. I can't remember now if I asked husband to fix my position.

Then suddenly I felt my arm hitting something, ouch. I opened my eyes and saw I was on the floor. I knew I had hit the table. I heard a few things fall. I heard my glass of water fall and the coaster. I shouted for husband but he was no longer in bed. Suddenly the door opened and there he was rushing in. I said "I fell." Ouch.

Before he moved me he looked me over, saw some bruises, a scratch, a dislodged skin (small only on my elbow) etc. He woke up my son and with great difficulty they lifted me back to the bed. (The floor is so low, they are so tall) He asked me to raise my arm, no problem there, but I felt hapdi in one area of my upper arm and saw 4 open pinhole-sized perforations (I'm sure there's a better term for them). Otherwise, I'm okay. See, I'm typing. Arm feels a bit sore but husband said, that's to be expected. He said I might want to ice the soreness away, I said sacrifice na lang. It's not that bad. Son stayed awake, I guess a bit worried, for two hours, to keep me company. He's snoring away now. Meantime, athlete mom (husband said to imagine how athletes fall after a tough game) is blogging away.

Oh the things aside from the glass of water and Arcoroc coaster (which broke but whose shards didn't hit me) that fell were made of plastic. But there was one bottle of perfume, really old (paco rabanne calandre) made of glass that didn't break. Conclusion: perfumes are expensive because of the glass they come in. Shatter proof. Ouch, my back hurts.

Hairspray, the Musical

The musical Hairspray will be shown at the Star Theater (CCP Complex) this November. For tickets to the opening night on November 14 and for the November 23 show, please refer to the following letter from Stewart Ong:

Dear Friends,

We are selling 2 shows of the Broadway and movie-hit musical HAIRSPRAY on November 14 (Friday) and November 23 (Sunday). It's a great show, winning 8 Tony Awards in Broadway. It's also being produced and directed by the same group as Rent, Avenue Q and Cinderella. Venue will be at the Star Theater, CCP Complex, 8pm.

For ticket and show inquiries, you may email me (song1@jnjph.jnj.com) or SMS me directly (+63917-8735412)
Best to confirm early in order to reserve good seats!

Thanks!

Stewart also shared Hairspray's casting as follows:

HAIRSPRAY CASTING


TRACY Madel Ching
EDNA Michael de Mesa
LINK Tim Espinosa
SEAWEED Nyoy Volante
PENNY Monica Reynoso
AMBER Christine Allado
VELMA Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo
MOTORMOUTH Dulce
WILBUR Leo Rialp
CORNY COLLINS Noel Rayos
FEMALE AUTHORITY Ana Bitong
MALE AUTHORITY Gabe Mercado
INEZ Precious Lee Viloria

WHITE ENSEMBLE

ENSEMBLE #1 Mark Tayag
ENSEMBLE #2 Anthony Ong
ENSEMBLE #3 Reb Atadero
ENSEMBLE #4 Red Concepcion
ENSEMBLE #5 Francesca Borromeo
ENSEMBLE #6 Crienna House
ENSEMBLE #7 Margarita Laurel
ENSEMBLE #8 Bea Garcia

BLACK ENSEMBLE

ENSEMBLE #9/DYNAMITE Emerita Alcid
ENSEMBLE#10/DYNAMITE Erika Cedilla
ENSEMBLE#11/DYNAMITE Pam Gumabon
ENSEMBLE#12 Michael Melvin Odoemene
ENSEMBLE#13 Gerlin Francisco
ENSEMBLE#14 Jordan Aguilar


Ticket Prices:

P1,200 (Rows A to I)

P1,000 (Row J to S)

P800 (Rows T to X)

P600 (Rows Y to Z)


I can safely assure those interested that Stewart delivers in the literal and figurative sense. We obtained tickets to West Side Story and were very much satisfied by his and his friend's "brand of service".

Remembering Glorietta

Following is a letter my cousin emailed to me this morning. It was written by her daughter who, along with my cousin was in Glorietta during the blast.

Dear Family and Friends,

It has almost been a year since the explosion in Glorietta 2. I know I promised some of you that I would write, would tell you all the details about what happened. Well, I didn't realize it would be so hard to put everything down on paper. I have hesitated doing this since it brings back old feelings, things I would rather not remember, most of which I do not remember in fact.

So, finally, in the last two weeks, I was able to put together this 5 page letter to Rafa and Mia, for their scrapbook. So that when they grow up, they will still remember that they are so blessed in spite of this terrible thing that happened to us. I wanted to share this letter with you, my good friends, so that you will know why this experience has forever changed me, and my relationship with God. I thank you again for what you did for me last year. Each of you in some way, was there for me this past year, or when this happened. I hope you can also feel the love we have felt from this experience. God bless you all.

Love,
Tiffany

REMEMBER

My Dearest Children,

Last year we almost died. On October 19, 2007, at 130pm, we were in Glorietta
2 in Makati, Philippines, when there was an explosion. The explosion destroyed
an entire building. There were 11 people reported to have died in the
explosion, 118 people injured, and many more missing. We were part of the 118
people. Ironically, I do not remember most of what happened that day.

I am sharing this miracle with you, based on what was told to me by Abuela, Ate
May, you Rafa and Mia, and some of my own flashes of memory. I want you to
remember this story of love, miracles, and life. I want you to know that God
really exists, and that He protects us from danger.

My own memory starts on Saturday, October 20th, the day after the explosion. I
woke up with a start after a long nightmare of noise, blood, pain and a feeling
that I was desperately looking for my children. My first feeling was relief to
have awoken from such an awful dream. Then I looked around. My surroundings
were unfamiliar. I could see your Mama Telly sleeping on a sofa across the
room. My body ached, then I realized Mia and I were sleeping together on a tiny
bed. Then I saw her IV drip. I gasped. I knew my terrible dream that night
had been real. I saw Rafa asleep on another hospital bed next to ours, and your
papa was watching over him. I guessed he had not slept at all that night.

In the quiet of the sunrise, your papa and I talked. He told me he had come
back to Makati from Bangkok the evening before, that he had taken the first
flight out when he heard what happened, so he could be with us in the hospital.
Then he showed me the headlines of the morning paper. And I saw it. It was a
picture of the exact place where we had been standing. The place where we had
been reading together was devastated. Nothing was left, only the grey rubble
from 3 collapsed floors and the roof which had fallen on us. Everything in
Glorietta 2 had been destroyed. I turned to look at Mia, her forehead covered
with bandages, and at Rafa, his back full of wounds. I suddenly remembered the
sound of the explosion in my head, and it hurt. I asked Papa Steve to help me
go to the bathroom to look at myself.

For a moment, I did not recognize my own reflection in the mirror. My entire
left side was covered with bruises. My hair was disheveled, full of dirt and
blood, and debris from the blast. I lifted up my shirt and saw that I had cuts
all over my back, and a big gash in my left side. I looked at my legs, covered
with dried blood and bruises. I was limping. My left foot hurt. I looked like
a character in a horror movie, after she had been killed. I almost laughed at
the thought. Then, I went back outside to check on you, my children.

Many things happened after this moment, but I want to tell you about the
explosion itself. When we were back in Ascott, before moving to Bangkok, I
talked with you both. You shared with me the most fascinating things about that
day.

After lunch with Auntie Jeanne, and after getting Dipping Dots, we bought
Mia’s ballet slippers. She wanted to wear them, so we put her other shoes in
the stroller with our baby bag. I went to a new scrapbooking store on the 2nd
floor, while you, Abuela, Ate May, and Ate Malou went to the book fair on the
ground floor. I joined you at 125pm. Your Abuela and I wanted to leave because
we both had to go to the bathroom, but Rafa asked if he could finish his book.
I stood with Rafa at the children’s section and Abuela read a pocketbook at
our table. Ate May was on the floor reading to Mia a favorite story “Beauty
and the Beast” while Ate Malou sat under one of the columns watching the
stroller. Then, I heard the sound. BOOM.

After that, everything was quiet. I remember the first person I called was
Abuela. I could not see her, so I called out desperately, “MOM.”

She answered back, then I knew we were all alive. She says that she was still
standing. She had not realized what had happened but suddenly she could not see a thing. It looked like there was a wall in front of her. Then, she was
overcome with fear, fear for her apos (the Filipino word for grandchildren).
She called out to Jesus, “Lord, where are the apos?”

Then, she heard me call her.

Rafa, the moment he heard the blast, felt pain in his back, and quickly ducked
under the book table. What a boy scout. He covered his face but peered out and
in a flash he saw the glass blown out of store windows, and big ‘rocks’ fall
from the ceiling. Actually, it was the ceiling that fell. I picked him up and
held his hand as we walked out of Glorietta II, but somehow he had lost his new
crocs. This I remember, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said,
“Mommy, I’m sorry, I lost my shoes.”

MayFlor, who is like a second mother to the children, followed her instinct
when she felt the blast. She threw her body on top of Mia’s as they fell
over. She had the worst injuries, sustaining a broken right arm, right leg, and
gashes in the head. All of that, to keep my own daughter alive.

Poor Malou was literally thrown forward by the force of the blast. She fell
onto broken glass which cut her face and hands. She was bleeding so much, and had so much debris in her eyes that she could not open them. She said she
thought she was dead until she heard my voice calling out her name. “Malou,
where are you? Are you ok?”

The six of us walked out of Glorietta in pairs. Rafa and I went first,
followed by May carrying Mia. Abuela held Malou who could not see where she was going. We left behind our baby bag and stoller, and we walked slowly across the activity center to Glorietta 4. There was not a sound in the entire mall, except my voice calling out everyone’s name over and over, asking each person if he or she was ok. I remember walking into the bright sunlight of the
activity center. I felt a piercing pain in my left eye, blood dripping down my
face. I took out my bloody contact lens and put it in my purse. Rafa was
looking down at his own hand held in mine. It was soaked in blood. He looked
up at me with apprehension. He said, “Mama, my hand is covered in blood.”
“Don’t worry Rafa,” I said, “All the blood is mine. and it doesn’t hurt.”

Suddenly, there were people who work in Ayala coming toward us. A man ran to us and picked up Rafa to carry him. I panicked. I shouted for him not to take my
son away. I yelled that we all had to stay together. I begged him not to take
my son from me. He promised to keep us all together, but that we had to get to
the hospital. He said I was bleeding and that we had to get into a taxi and go
to the hospital. I started to protest, but noticed May was in a lot of pain.
When we got to Glorietta 4, we heard a stampede coming so we quickly got into
two cabs, May, Mia and I were in the back seat. The stranger held Rafa in the
front seat. Abuela and Malou got into the other taxi. Then, two other victims
were put into our taxi. They were bleeding heavily and the woman next to me was almost unconscious. May was now seething with pain. After that, I have no
memory of the rest of the afternoon.

At the hospital, Malou and May were put on gurneys. I gave the nurse in the ER
of Makati Medical our details and said that Dr Butler, the kids’ pediatrician,
should be next door in her clinic. They called her and she quickly came to see
us. Rafa was treated for blast wounds on his back. They cut his clothes off
and bandaged his cuts. The doctors could not treat Mia’s wounds because she
kept crying and throwing up when they would touch her. The nurses cut her
clothes off and inserted an IV so she could be sedated. My father and brother
arrived. When your Papa Ine walked into the ER, he saw Rafa, naked on a
hospital bed with bandages on his back. Mia was sitting on my lap in a chair
next to Rafa, both our faces soaked in blood. He was so taken aback, he
collapsed right in front of us, and all the nurses rushed to revive him. I was
like a broken record, asking everyone who talked to me where my children were,
where my mother and nannies were. And if everyone was ok. I refused to be sedated, even when I got the stitches in my head. The doctors could not believe I was still conscious with two big gashes in my head. “Only God knows how she stayed awake,” they said.

Abuela was so busy calling people to tell them where we were, arranging for
clothes to be brought to us, and what rooms we would be staying in at the
hospital, that only later did she notice the pain in her head. The doctor was
shocked to see she also had a gash, and she was quickly stitched up, just like
Malou, May, and myself.

Mia, however, would not speak for the rest of the day. When I asked her days
after the explosion if she remembered what happened, she nodded, and told me the most incredible thing I have ever heard.

She had been asking me about a “white thing” she saw in the blast. I told
her it was probably the wall of the building falling down. She seemed
unsatisfied with my answer, and kept asking me what was the white thing she saw in the “booming” as she called the explosion. Mia was only 2 years old, the
youngest survivor of the explosion.

Finally after 3 days of asking, I realized she must have seen something that
bothered her, so I asked her, “Mia, what WAS the white thing you saw in the
booming?”

She answered me, “You know, Mama.”

I asked her if the white thing was A THING. She shook her head no. I asked
her if the white thing was a person. She nodded.

I asked her if she knew the person she saw. She said yes. She said he was a
boy. A big boy.

I asked, “Like your Kuya (older brother)?”

“No Mama. Bigger.”

“Like your Papa?”

“No Mama. Bigger.”

I asked, “Like Uncle RJ?”

“No Mama. He was..(and she looked up to the sky and lifted her hand above
her head) HE WAS BIG.”

She then told me that when the booming happened, the white boy appeared,
standing on her book. She was not afraid of him. He was as tall as the
building, all white, white hair, white face, white clothes. He spoke to her.
He said to her, “I love you much too” and kissed her face, where she was
bleeding. She said he proceeded to kiss Ate May, Ate Malou, Kuya Rafa, Abuela, then kissed Mama on the head so she could wake up. Then, she said Mama got up, and we walked out of Glorietta.


I did not say anything. I just listened, and over the next several days, Mia,
you gave me more details about your friend at the blast. Your aunties said you
had seen an angel. It was starting to hit me hard. The six of us could have
died. We had actually lived through an explosion. While others had lost their
lives, or were severely injured, all six of us had been saved, perhaps by an
angel . It was too much for me to take in. My mother, my children, my two
trusted helpers. We had all been saved.

In my prayers, I have asked Jesus why this terrible thing happened. Why did
innocent people have to suffer? His answer to me was gentle but firm.
“Good people get hurt because there is still evil in this world. But do not
despair. Know that I am with you always, I shield you from harm. I keep you
safe in My arms. You are spared so you can go out into the world and tell
others how much I love you, how much I want you to be with Me in heaven.”

I have been asked why I am not bitter. Why do I not sue Ayala, or hate the
people involved with the explosion? Well, it is very hard to be bitter when I
feel so blessed. When this happened, it was tragic, awful, horrendous, but it
was also a miracle. In the moments, days, months that passed, I felt the love
of so many people - family, friends, even strangers who rushed to our side, who
took care of us. I remember clearly the next day, after Mia’s operation, when
she and Rafa were napping, how my mother-in-law quietly brushed out my hair, the hair that had been chopped for my stitches. She held me gently, taking out the debris, dirt, and dried blood still on my head. I remember how my brother
stayed by my side while I waited for Mia to come out of the OR. How I cried on
his shoulder when I was too weary to be brave. I remember how my father prayed
every night over the children, how my mother quietly listened every time I
needed to talk to someone about that day. I remember how my husband held us close to him each night, thanking God for giving us another day together. I remember friends who called, texted, and sent gifts to the children and the yayas (nannies) in the hospital. I may not remember what happened at the explosion, but I remember all these things. These are the things that count. These are the things I want to share with you. So that you will remember. You are loved.

Love,
Mama

BLind Items 2 (the first is in my other blog)

Blind Items 2 will also coincidentally consist of two guess who's. This time I'm sure my cousin will guess the identities readily but I'll try to give as few clues as possible, although on second thought, I doubt that I can provide any descriptions that won't be dead giveaways anyway.

B I (1): He was alone, smiling all the time. He's not too tall, he was in government and has a famous/notorious family name, depending on which clan member you're thinking of. He was eating in PL by his lonesome. Guess who, cousin? I'm sure C will guess the family name at least? She has been in our province often enough except that she doesn't deal with the clan, as far as I know. But she's magaling so likely, she'll get the identity.

B I (2): She came with two men, one of them a foreigner who smiled at me. Her husband, I think, The other older looking gentleman told her to move her high tech wheelchair so another wheelchair (okay, mine) could pass and leave the premises. She's mestiza and is a descendant of a former Philippine president. Very good looking.

Saw both in Pepper Lunch.

How God Works in Mysterious Ways, His Wonders to Perform

The title of this post is something I learned in high school, possibly from literature class. That it has stayed fresh in my mind attests to the fact that time and again I've experienced His hand in my life, so how could I possibly forget the quote that encapsulates such?

This pm, at around 4:30, I was surprised that my tutee who was dismissed at 2:20 hadn't yet arrived. I texted his mother, not so much because of the income aspect but because I was concerned. Today being my son's birthday, I wanted to have time to prepare for mass at 6:30. Normally this tutee of mine takes a lot of time answering the reviewers I prepare because he malingers - paawa effect. He's the youngest in the family and is in Grade 5.

His mom promptly answered my text telling her that I had to leave by six (actually leave for my room so I could prepare for mass) with the info that her son was at LEAP and would go to me afterwards. Then she said if it was all right, she would just pay me for the reviewer I prepared and the set of answers to the reviewer. I balked. My first reaction was "the nerve." (the memory of the father of Narding in Sinta's saying that still fresh in my mind, having watched Sinta only last Friday). She didn't exactly say how much she was willing to pay but hey, I slaved on that reviewer for several hours and just like that she'd buy them? I wanted to say "they aren't for sale, lady." So I made the excuse that I didn't think he'd need it (let me explain, Leap is a tutorial session in school conducted by a teacher of the school who's not the boy's teacher). Moreover, I said, he might be too tired and might just end up confused. She texted another time and said she really wanted to get it and when I texted back saying I didn't think so, she apologized. I was peeved to say the least but that development also prompted me to call Power Plant. You see, my birthday boy son, when I asked him last night where he wanted to have his birthday dinner (with just him, his papa and me) he said Pepper Lunch at Power Plant. So on the off-chance, I called PP to ask if there would be mass tonight. Actually I was expecting a NO because months back, when I called to ask, I was told they only had masses on weekends and first Fridays. But I called and the lady said YES, at 5:30.

By that time it must have been 4:40 and it generally takes an hour to get to Makati. Plus my husband wasn't home yet and my son hadn't bathed. I promptly texted my husband and told him that just in case he was tutoring to please dismiss the boy so we could catch the mass at 5:30 in Makati. He said he had actually canceled his tutoring session and was about to go home. With a smile on my face I went to the room where my son was busy studying (?) for Wednesday's exam. More quickly than usual, he stood up and went to his room to get his clothes. But he lingered as usual and I was getting anxious. I wanted to avoid chastising him on his birthday. Before my patience ran out, he began to take a bath. I constantly said "mass at 5:30 in Power Plant, not in OLPP(our parish)". Meanwhile, husband arrived. After a while, son finished dressing. At around 5 we were off to Makati.

I told myself if God wills it, we will be at PP maybe just a little late. I was anxious though that I might have been given the wrong info and there might be no mass. Then I assured myself, at least we could visit the chapel.

There was no traffic going to Makati even if this was supposed to have been rush hour. By 5:30 we were at the parking lot (P1) of PP. When we got to the chapel, the priest was reading the Gospel. Not bad. There were others who arrived later than we did and I'm sure they didn't come all the way from Quezon City.

The priest was okay, his homily was okay and not too long. After mass, I told my son to call his cousin who works nearby to join us for dinner at Pepper Lunch. He did and it was fun having my nephew around, he who was mistaken to have been my first-born because when he was an infant, his parents would leave him with me every morning before they went off to work, so when I'd go to Unimart, for example, he'd be sitting on my lap. Years later, when I was with my son, the security guard in Unimart asked me "saan na ang panganay niyo?" I was taken aback and realized whom he thought my eldest son was. Anyway, back to tonight.

After Pepper Lunch, we bought some bread at Bread Talk. (Their loaf breads are really tasty and soft.) Afterwards we went to Pazzo for some ice cream and there I reminded my nephew of how, when I was pregnant, I'd play catch ball with him from my bed while he stood by the door. Occasionally, I would tell him then not to throw too hard lest he hurt the baby in my tummy. And I'll never forget what he said, "Taba lang yan." As I told him, he tried to recall how old he was then and said "six or seven." My son's now 19. He's 26 and an assistant manager in a multinational company.

How time has flown and somehow, my nephew will always occupy a special place in my family of a husband and a son. Somehow he is like a son to me too and I think he knows it.

What a nice evening we had. Like they say before Christ's resurrection he went through Good Friday. In a sense my disappointment with my tutee's mom was like Good Friday and what followed was certainly a resurrection of sorts. yes, I know the comparison is really so many worlds apart in terms of impact (micro as opposed to macro), but you get the drift.

Won't edit this na. Anyway, all those who read my posts in this blog are people I care about, and that includes you. So any errors are forgiven, right?

It is my son's birthday so should this post have been about him? If I were the perfect mother, it would have been, but I'm not. He finds sentimental stuff cheesy besides, and if I dedicated a post to him and he learned about it, how aghast he'd be. Besides he knows how I feel and must be tired hearing me say how I love him very "mucho"! It has become a fill in the blanks thing, dating back from when he was a baby and sometimes he'd say "macho". hayyy.