"Tell Mama not to Forget..."

The operation was delayed by one day.

Apparently, on the morning of his original schedule, doctors found a thrombus – a blood clot – in the vein between the heart and the lungs. It was a bad turn of events that caused the unnecessary and dangerous delay of the much needed operation. The next day however, the doctors concluded that further delays would be disastrous.

After much consultation with his team, particularly with his Anesthesiologist Dr. Papa, Dr. John Balinghasay decided to push through with the operation. He explained the situation to all of us, my brother JV included.

With my very little medical knowledge (close to nil) this is what I understood: "too much blood pumping through the veins during the operation could push the clot into the arteries, causing a blockage which may lead to cardiac arrest. On the other hand, too much push in the other direction could send the clot into the lungs, possibly leading to pulmonary arrest. Further delaying the operation to treat the thrombus first would definitely allow the gas gangrene to spread faster and deeper into his body".

Not too many acceptable options, huh?

But, since a decision had already been made a couple of days earlier, the entire family was one in upholding the decision to go through with the operation.

My brother was wheeled out of the room soon after.

His twin brother Ray was at his side as JV left the room.

Just before leaving the room, JV reached up for Ray and said: “Tell Mama not to forget her insulin…”, and off he went into the operating room.

You see, a year or so earlier, Mama was diagnosed as having diabetes too. Since then, both she and JV had to inject themselves with insulin on a daily basis. Most of the times, JV – with over three decades of injecting himself with insulin – expertly administered the insulin injections to my Mom. Having had to live with diabetes for the past 30+ years, JV was strict with my Mom’s medical regimen. He constantly reminded Mama to “inject first…” before certain meals or at certain times of the day.

And even then – faced with the triple horns of possible death – he had only one person on his mind. And it wasn’t himself.

My brother’s operation and the events surrounding it have taught me and my family – and our friends too – so much about things we already know.

How many times have I had the opportunity to give more of myself – but did not?

How often have I found myself in a situation where I could have placed others ahead of myself – but would not?

I realize now that every time I failed, I missed the opportunity to see Jesus in others – and just let Jesus come first.

When Ray told me what JV said just before he went to face his biggest trial, I realized that even in one’s time of great need, it is still possible to choose others before one’s self.

I hope I still get a chance to place others ahead of myself – just as JV did.

"Cut it Off"

It’s been two months since my brother lost his left leg to “gas gangrene". Like so many of us, I didn’t know what gas gangrene was – until it started eating up my younger brother’s left leg, it’s toxicity spreading inwards and upwards towards his torso, giving us less than 24 hours to make a decision to either cut off the leg or watch him pass away.

It isn’t everyday that someone has the opportunity (yes, I said “opportunity”) to face death squarely in the face and say “I am not going down without a fight”. But my brother did. Bravely, but painfully, he did.

The night before the original schedule of the operation, when we were pressed for a decision, I asked everyone in the hospital room to step out – my mother included. I wanted a moment with my brother alone.

He had been diabetic for the past 27 years – since he was a 10-year old from Zobel. During his years there, we had done what we could to make life more bearable for him. I still recall the numerous times I would get called out of class by my younger brother’s teachers asking me to administer the required dose of insulin when his sugar level went crazy. His classmates would watch as I took the syringe and administered the dose. At that time, he needed us to decide on the right dosage and to act for him.

But that evening, the tables were turned. He had to act on this decision himself.

So, with no one else inside the room but my brother and I, I gave him his options.

“It’s worse than we thought it would be. Dr. Balinghasay said that the only option is to operate tomorrow. It’s spreading too fast.

“But – the choice is yours. Just tell me you want one more week to try other non-traditionals, and we will. I will stop the doctors and I will sign any waiver for you. IF this is what you want.

“BUT, the danger is that you may not have one week. The gangrene may reach your torso in two or three days – and by then it will be useless to operate.

“BUT – we will support what you feel is best”.

I was afraid. My brother, when faced with situations less dangerous than this – had the habit of clamming up and shutting out the world – us included. To shut us out now would have been disastrous, as a decision had to be made.

And this time, it was a decision HE had to make for himself.

I was ready to pry a decision from his lips, anticipating his “shut-down”.

But in less than two seconds after I had finished my sentence, he spoke. And it wasn’t just a mumble of words.

He spoke seven words with a conviction I had never seen nor heard from him before.

“Cut it off. I WANT TO LIVE”.

I was so moved by his conviction, that I asked him if he wanted me to lead him in prayer, and he said “yes”. So I took his hand and prayed with him. And only when I opened my eyes did I see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

I stepped out of the room, and admonished my family: no one was to ask him about his decision anymore. No one was to show signs of weakness, regret, sorrow or any such negative emotions. No one was to cry – NO MATTER WHAT.

“If any of you walk into that room and starts to cry – I will remove you from the room”, I said. “That includes you, Ma”, I told my mother.

My brother made a brave and hard decision. And none of us had the right to make him feel bad about it.

A week later, he was out of the hospital. Dr. Balinghasay (himself a graduate of Zobel and a friend and batchmate of my brother and his twin) and his entire OR Team had done perfectly!

My brother is now getting back to his old activities – albeit in a wheelchair. A prosthetic leg is expensive, but he will soon have his own. Yet even now, one leg less, he “stands up” witnessing to God’s Love and Greatness. A week ago, I drove him to a CLP where he shared his life as a testimony to Loving God.

In the Bible, we are told by Jesus that if any part of our body causes us to sin, we must cut it off… for it is better to enter the Kingdom of Heaven lacking that body part, rather than to end up with your entire body in the bowels of hell.

My brother chose life. He had been battling diabetes for 27 years now. He was tired of it.

We may be facing our own “diabetic attacks”. Some of us may already have “gas gangrene” eating at our souls. Our lives may already be “rotting away” one way or another.

And we may be tired of it already, just as my brother was tired of fighting diabetes.

But he did not give up.

Instead, he chose to “cut it off” so that he could LIVE.

Reach Up!

It has been months since my last post in what is supposed to be a collection of daily thoughts. Amazing how the days pass by so swiftly that just as you are forgetting what the sunrise looks like, you are already witnessing a glorious sunset.

I now sit 10 floors above the busy Alabang-Zapote Road – from my window I see the Makati-Mandaluyong-Ortigas-Quezon City skylines outlined by distant yet all too familiar buildings, many of which I can identify by their silhouettes.

Every morning, I arrive to an empty office, and the distant view makes me appreciate the vastness of God’s creations. From my vantage point, I see large patches of green silently and peacefully wrestling with the all-too-familiar signs of development: rooftops of houses and buildings, concrete walls and roads, and the occasional soft arches of smoke emanating from factory chimneys here and there.

In the few minutes before the office spaces next to mine start filling up with people and the sounds of the daily grind, I say a prayer of thanks to our Lord. I thank him for the new day, my wonderful job, my great staff, my family and countless other blessings.

But I also thank him for the clear signs he gives me through the “green patches” in an otherwise grey world.

To me, the green leaves struggling to keep themselves above the pollution of everyday life is a very clear sign of “hope”. As the world encroaches into the natural habitat of these trees and plants, the once open air and vast amounts of sunshine are blocked out by the rising concrete structures of man.

So what does the tree do?

It rises above all these! It stretches itself upward. Up, up, up towards the sun. Where it cannot go upward, it will go left… or right. Branching in every direction – just to get a piece of that all too precious sunlight.

It never gives up.

Right below my window I see the top of an Acacia. Its sprawling limbs covered with millions of open leaves so strategically spread out that it catches the sunlight almost all day.

And then I realize: by spreading out to catch the sun, the Acacia provides a wide shade for the creatures who have invaded its natural habitat. In its desire to reach up and out for the source of life, it refreshes us who have caused it so much harm.

Yes, there is hope. Let us all stretch up and out – let us rise above ourselves, and go after that life-giving Son. Let us not be closed in by our work, our careers, our families, our friends and our selves.

Reach out. Reach up. Reach for the Son. Not only shall we have life, but our lives will be a refreshing spirit for others too.

"We are Holy..."

Last Sunday during Mass, my daughter – who had recently received her first communion – motioned to me that she wanted to receive communion by the hand.

“Sure, if that’s what you want” I said. “But I will not – our hands are not holy – that’s why the Priest is the one who should give us communion”.

My daughter looked blankly at me for a couple of seconds, and then looked back at the priest officiating the Mass. Then, as if having seen the answer to her question, she motioned for me to bend over so she could whisper in my ear.

“Our hands are holy because God made us holy.”

How many times have I forgotten this simple truth.

I have taught and emphasized time and again that God has made us in His image AND likeness. In fact, in a training program I co-authored with a former colleague of mine, we emphasized how God took the pains of creating us with his own hands. In Genesis we read how God created the world and all that is within it with His word – how he spoke all things into being. All things, that is, except for man. The bible teaches us that when God was done creating everything, He formed man out of the soil of the earth and breathed life into Man.

God actually got down on His hands and knees, and with His hands he formed man in His image and likeness.

Imagine this scenario:

Angel: “Uh, Lord, what’re you doing playing in the dirt?”

Lord: “I’m making Man.”

Angel: “That creature must be so special for you to get your manicure ruined.”

Lord: “Special – Yes – very special. Man will have dominion over all things great and small. He shall give a name to all that I created. He will be a reflection of who I am and what I am…”

I’m quite sure the exchange of ideas between God and his angel was much more eloquent than that, but you get the idea.

With a smile of knowledge, Julia confidently said with conviction that “Our hands are holy BECAUSE GOD MADE US HOLY.”

I stared her in the eye, and gave her a tight hug.

Who could argue with reasoning like that?