CRIS EVERT LATO-
RUFFOLO
I seldom get sick.
So it came as a surprise when I suddenly became a grown-up version of the 13-year-old girl in that horror movie whose title I will never ever mention out of fear that my catechist mother would call today to warn me about the things I write.
But yes, there I was in our bathroom on a Thursday night feeling sorry for myself as I was reduced to a coughing mortal in between violent spasms.
It was not what I hope to be doing on a Thursday night.
The super plan was to finish all graduate-school related tasks and then party with my children over ice cream and brownies.
No, it never happened.
Everything turned depressing as I saw my classmates posts about how they are saying “goodbye” to this semester after submitting “Assignment 2.”
This mother/lady, on the other hand, was reduced to tears as I endured a splitting headache, a 39-degree-Celcius fever, and a mouth threatening to head into another round of unfashionable date with the toilet bowl.
To top it all, the three mutants are sick. We were brought to a clinic where the doctor said that we have “walking pneumonia,” a mild case of pneumonia that is not severe to require hospitalization or bed rest.
This also meant canceling a trip to Dipolog via Dapitan onboard George and Peter Lines. It was supposed to be a weekend off after a stressful semester but I am here lying on my bed calling for my Mommy for a sponge bath, chicken soup, soda crackers, and that orange fizzy drink that reminds me of my childhood in Lapu-Lapu City.
I feel helpless.
There is nothing much I can do except take my medicines and rest.
Last night, I was still delirious. In between naps, I dreamed about the Miss Universe competition in Bangkok, Thailand. It was a nightmare imagining that I will not be there to witness Catriona Gray fight for that fourth crown. I had planned this trip since the beginning of this year saving up for a two one-way plane ticket from Cebu to Manila, and Manila to Bangkok. Later, I proposed to my husband that I want the Miss Universe ticket as a Christmas gift.
He agreed.
When mothers get sick, it feels like the whole house crumbles into a state of disorganization — and chaos.
Nicholas is Patient Zero in this house but he looks like he can play 10 rounds of football. Antoinette and JJ have it too but they still look like dog and cat ready to pounce on each other because the other one did not get a generous spread of peanut butter on her sandwich. I am praying on bended knees that Jeff will not get it as he is scheduled to leave for China soon for work.
The truth is — and one that I am too stubborn to admit — that I am overwhelmed from all the responsibilities. Last November 23, I was in Manila/Laguna for only 15 hours. The following day, I left for Dumaguete and then Siquijor.
It was a crazy scheduling of trips. I believe I just told myself to never do it again.
When I get healed from this disease, the first order of business is to go to the CDN newsroom and invite my Ninong and colleague Raffy Escoton for an unlimited meal of scallops and crabs.
In the haste of doing everything and feeling like Superwoman, I have failed to spend time with people who matter the most.
This December, that will not be the case.