Blessed

http://www.flickr.com/photos/14111752@N07/3006420502

My mother has pneumonia.

After almost a week of going to and from the hospital for consultations and tests, that was the diagnosis.

But her family (that's us) is still grateful.

We were worried of these possible diagnoses: tuberculosis, thyroid problems, or a heart irregularity.

All she got is pneumonia.

Don't get me wrong. I see her pain as she coughs; she holds her upper chest as if to lessen the pain. She's also into antibiotics. As a daughter, it's like stabbing you inch by inch.

But I still see everything as a blessing.

It's a blessing because she was diagnosed early. She went to the doctor immediately. It's a blessing because she's responding well to medicines. It's a blessing because her doctors are great. It's a blessing because she has a strong family behind her. It’s a blessing that she will be taken cared of.

In life, we have almost given up to the reality that it is hard to look for blessings in trials. It's not easy; I think in some instances, it WILL never be easy. Even I took several months to accept that having a maintenance medicine for my hyperthyroid is something that I have to live with in the meantime (and eventually conquering any fear of my condition, thanks to running). Truly, it is hard to see a rainbow in dark clouds.

But what made me see the beauty of it was this: my family has gone through a lot of difficulties and trials. Problems came to pass; yet we are still standing. We love each other and we care for each other. We have God with us. That’s what kept us going – and it will be the same formula that we’ll still be using.

What was more surprising was that I never had an inch of worry when I found out about my mother’s pneumonia. I was confident about all the facts: it was detected very early, medicines are given, and it’s curable. The first words that I thought of were “Thank you, God.” I was a revelation to myself: I guess my faith matured an inch.

My mother has us for a family. Together, we have a faith as strong as our love for each other. We are blessed – and we will continue to share blessings.

All she got is pneumonia.

ANN-lene

http://www.flickr.com/photos/30626788@N00/211566100

(wrote this last March 22, 2010)

Last week, I found out I have osteopenia.

It means that my bones are kind of brittle. If I will not take necessary actions, it may lead to osteoporosis.

I learned about it after I underwent a free bone screening. My left arm wrist was subjected to the screening, which took a minute. What’s bad is that at my age (I’m 28), I’m too young to be osteopenic.

Get this: I’ve had kidney infection, I’m going treatment for hyperthyroidism (nodules somehow found a home there, which I hate), and I have benign nodules in my breasts that I need to monitor. Aside from this, I have been wearing eyeglasses for more than a decade now because of astigmatism and near-sightedness. Oh, I also have vertigo, and the reason I had braces at late 20s because I have been suffering from temporo mundibular joint disorder for a long time (and I didn’t know!). So you could tell that my days are numbered.

With all of this, I could easily say, “Here we go again, another problem. Why is it always me?”

But instead of being sad, I just said “okay” to the doctor, after telling me the actions that I needed to take. The thing with osteopenia is that all I have to do is more calcium supplements and milk intake, so I think I’m gonna be just fine.

Was it because I’m used to being susceptible to diseases that are so out of this world (I think I made sure it can’t be found easily in the ordinary dictionary)? Well, I guess so.

But I think I took the news as it is because I believe I can win this battle.

I had won the fight against my kidney infection when I was a kid. The last time I had my check up, my thyroid nodules are getting smaller (I’m still praying it will disappear forever). My astigmatism grade reached its highest, though, but my near-sightedness grade steadied since three years ago. My vertigo is manageable, and my jaws are getting back to normal.

So I believe I could win another fight; I will live another day. Because I am someone who can still do many things. I am someone who cannot just be brought down.

As I drank my first cup of Anlene, I toast to the dreams that I will still achieve.

I toast to the beaches and beautiful places that I will reach.

I toast to the friends that I will still meet and new ones to greet.
I toast to the crazy things that I will still do.

I toast to the battles I have conquered, and to the ones that will still be coming.

So I’ll keep myself healthy.