2013, a retrospective

It has been an interesting year in ways that I did not anticipate. Looking back, I’d like to recount a few things so that I don’t forget the experiences that have dramatically altered my worldview, hopefully for the better. I’d like to remember these fleeting moments, as they’re too precious to be lost. Here they are, in no particular order.

It feels good to walk for the first time without support after an extended period on a hospital bed. The first unsure steps, like a child, are both exhilarating and scary. The slow steps, the deep breaths, and victory. The blessings of human mobility.
The seconds before general anesthesia. Unsure about what’s going to happen. Succumbing to the uncertainty. General sense of well being, even though NOT. Numbness traveling up the leg, starting at the fingertips. Fluttering of eyelids, coldness, and out.
Waking up thinking “Made It”, on more than one occasion. Colorful and vivid morphine-induced dreams.
Drinking water. Never did it taste so good. Thinking “why I didn’t I enjoy this more?”
Feeling satisfied and carefree when the last drain tube is out. Going for another walk without the chains and shackles this time, beaming and happy.
Taking bad news with a “crap, in a bit of a pickle”. Wishing there weren’t so many people around me. Thankful there weren’t some people around me.
Taking good news with a “hmm, that’s great”. Thinking “what’s next”, and where to go for lunch.
Waiting expectantly for the visiting hours and seeing Wathsala walk in at the strike of the clock. All is well.
Sleeping to the sound of a waterfall. My neighbor’s snoring and sleep-talk required me to explore this option. It worked out well.
Sleeping in my own bed and thinking how low-tech it is. The light streaming through an open window and a gentle breeze. It’s 11am on a Tuesday and I’m in bed and not at work.
Being breathless after a trip across the room.
Doing breathing exercises using a contraption that made me want to keep bettering myself to impress the nurses. Wathsala knew what was going on and was in silent support of it. Or so I presume.
The real beauty of loving and caring human beings. Honestly, there’s no bigger service than nursing someone to health.
Observing the activities of the Vietnamese drug lord and his two mistresses in an adjoining bed. His hefian mannerisms and attire intrigued the hell out of me. Didn’t see him after he was wheeled out for surgery. I figured he requested for a different bed. Wonder why.
Reading “Ape Gama” by Martin Wickramasinghe after many many years and thinking, “that is just beautiful”.
Visits from old friends.
Wearing the sarong like a boss. Proudly brandishing the national attire on the many trips abroad and vowing to stick with it for good. More “why I didn’t do this before?”.
Walking into the hospital like I owned the place. Being recognized. Probably as the guy who visits Mount Elizabeth wearing a sarong. Proud to be that guy.
Visits to the temple. More, “why didn’t I do this before?”
Hearing about those who were praying for my recovery from other people. Some who I had not even met, until just today.
Feeling grateful for my A team of Poh-Koh-Tan for pulling me out of a mess.
Dr. Liang banging his head on the table when he found out I was flying out the next day. He wanted more time to work with the “interesting case”. I granted him his wish.
Hearing old voices on the phone unexpectedly.
Hearing the sound of the crows outside the General Hospital in the morning. Inspiration shows up in unexpected places.
Being sick of soup. To this day.
Stories of talking dogs and cats and elaborate back-stories for doing what they did.
Shaking my cousins hand in the recovery room as I drifted in and out of sleep.
Waiting for the first rays of sunlight after a sleepless night.
Experiencing pain, and knowing it will pass. And it did.
Phone calls from my friends, following my every step of the way and helping me on.