She came for the first time today. Your Uncle George was here. She took my temperature, she checked me. She’s a Filipina, so I like her. She saw the pictures outside my room and said wow, those two are very beautiful.
Inang’s homecoming was the best way to welcome the Day of Rest.
My parents had already tucked in for the evening, as they had quite an exhausting day getting her discharged and preparing her room at their house. I may have said this already, but those two really are superheroes. I admire their tenacity so much.
In hindsight, it was probably not the best idea to bring guests along with me, but I couldn’t keep my sweet friends away. Melo and Maria stopped by for the few minutes I was at my parents’ house. Melo brought beautiful white lilies, which Inang loved.
Quick video blog update from the leading lady herself. Bouncing back only as a superwoman can (and rockin’ some pink lipstick while she’s at it).
In this video, we talk about how while she’s feeling like a million bucks, she only had vegetables to eat today (she’s on a strict, bland diet). French fries, as she said, are for next time.
Inang: How long until we can go home?
Me: We’ll have to stay here tonight, Inang. Maybe a few days.
Inang: *dramatic pause* I’ll die now.
Me: Don’t say that. I haven’t found a boyfriend yet. And you have to stick around long enough to meet him, at least.
Today, we took Inang to the hospital.
Every morning, per our normal routine, I check on Inang before heading into work. She was still sleeping when I got there this morning. I noticed she seemed paler than usual and asked my parents (who are real-life medical professionals, unlike myself who just fakes it) to follow up and see what might be wrong, as I had to get to work for an early presentation.
The presentation went well, and as I settled back into my office to catch up on emails, I noticed that my mom had sent me the following text:
“Don’t get alarmed.”
“She does not need blood transfusion.”
“Vomiting. Pooping. Blood.”
I left the office within fifteen minutes of receiving that text message, and arrived before Inang was scheduled to go up for an endoscopy. As we waited, Inang struggled quite a bit with the idea of using the restroom in an incontinence garment* the nurses had supplied her.
“But I want to walk.”
“You’re not allowed to. You just had a GI bleed.”
“But I need to use the restroom.”
“Then use it. Let it go, Inang. Let it go.”
Inang was not amused with the Idina reference.
After a while, Inang had no choice but to comply with the thought of using the incontinence garment, which I’m sure she was not happy with and ultimately led to certain acts of rebellion.
Like, full-on disrobing.
Not really Inang, but you get the idea.
And I get it. If someone told me, “Hey, use the bathroom on yourself,” I’d want to get as clean as possible, as quickly as possible – even if that meant stripping down to my birthday suit in front of my kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, and kind Malaysian maintenance man who was in the room to fix my curtain.
You could hear Inang’s heart shatter after we told her she wasn’t going home tonight. No amounts of “We’re staying with you! We’re staying with you!” brought any comfort to her (or maybe it was the fact that my dad and Uncle George joked around about going fishing tomorrow).
I’m praying that Inang gets to go home quickly, and that Tuesday’s tests bring about positive news rather than the alternative. Until then, Inang and I will be on mini vacay, glamping out at Hotel West Houston Medical Center, where we accept gifts in the form of coffee, chocolate, and telenovelas (just kidding, Inang’s NPO… I’m not though).
Where the party never stops
And Inang’s panty drops
*who are we kidding? it’s an adult diaper