The World’s Two Toughest Questions

As Tony fought for his life in the room with a view, concerned family and friends stayed by our side through comforting messages online and by phone, with assurances that they were praying with and for us. 

Two of the QUESTIONS they asked were: 

1) How is Tony?

2) How are you?

These were inevitable questions from people in our close circles, because we remained unseen. Much as they wanted to, they could not come to the hospital. Tony allowed no visitors; he refused to be seen helpless in bed, dependent on a medical staff. Had he not vowed “for better or for worse” before God on our wedding day, he would have shooed me away, too. 

My one-word, honest answers to the two questions that I kept in my mind were downers.  

1) Bad. 

2) Sad.

To replace those words, I had to carefully select from my word depot. But in moments of sadness, my depot was empty. So I blogged, focusing on blessings and sent these to them. 

These two questions persisted till our 20th day.   

Looking back, I am grateful that they were repeatedly asked. I believe that through these questions, the Lord had been reassuring us of His grace. 

What Jesus said to Paul, who complained about his thorn in the flesh, is also meant for the bad and the sad.   

“. . . My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9  

A Long 20-day Goodbye

While the world reveled on New Year's day (2025), we rushed Tony to the emergency room due to difficulty of breathing. Three days earlier, the medical staff in the same emergency room sent him home because his oxygen level, x-ray,  blood pressure, and other tests were normal.

But the breathing difficulty persisted, so I called his cardiologist on January 1. 

She ordered, “Bring him back to the hospital and insist that he be admitted for more tests.” 

We were ushered to the room with a view. 

A battery of “logists” of various human organs—beginning and ending with his main doctor, the cardiologist—came in and out, ruling out one suspicion after another.

 

Tony, as he was wont to do, had an opinion on everything, but tried to be docile while I, son #1 and son #3 were there to keep watch day and night. Volunteers (family and friends) to take over were countless, but he remained hard-nosed, unwilling to be seen in bed.   

Son #2, a physician in the US, kept in touch via video calls. On the 17th day, he dropped everything and flew in with his wife and son. 

True to form, Tony was adamant, “Why are they coming?”  He loathed being fussed over. 

Every day, telltale signs were nudging us progressively, but we looked the other way. He had lost his big appetite, strength to sit up, and lust for reading. Only his mind was intact—while ours became fuzzy—barking orders to driver Sam and Mother Teresa. 

His cardio was hinting that his heart was failing; still, we were all floating in a separate universe. Son #1 kept buying his favorite foods; son #3 was scouting for a hospital bed and commode; and I had contracted two caregivers for home care. 

When sons #1, #2, and #3 were together in his room, they watched TV while I took photos. "This is how it will always be," I thought. 

I was wrong.

It was our 20th day, and Mother Teresa took over as the night watch, so we could all catch up on our sleep. But she called after a couple of hours, begging us to go back, defying Tony’s order not to do so. 

My strong-willed, obstinate roommate of almost 55 years was peacefully asleep when we reached him, but his faint heart hobbled along. The Lord enabled us to say our final goodbyes before He took him home. Time stamp: January 20, 2025, 11:56 PM.  

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11

Holding Hands

Coming home without the man of the house till the rest of my days leaves a gaping hole in our life. I can rattle off all the synonyms of grief, but nothing accurately describes what I (and the rest of the family) feel.

How to move out of here?   

The Lord's Word is unchanging. It’s the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And like King David, we continue to cling to Him and His right hand will carry us through. 

“My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.” Psalm 63:8 ESV

Blank Blog Days

 I am taking a leave from blogging till the 27th.  Goodbyes cannot be rushed.  

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Psalm 73.26 (ESV) 

Joy to the Room

Day 17 in the room with a view: 

Being a night watcher alternately with son #3, I was advised by friends and family to get a “companion watcher” so I can have uninterrupted sleep. It was an idea too brilliant to ignore. 

And so I asked the nurses (their station is two steps away from our room) if they could recommend someone for that night. “Joy,” one said. "Here’s her number." 

And so I called up Joy.

And Joy came into the room. 

By staying awake for all of 12 hours, Joy enabled me to sleep for the same number of hours. Lost sleep have been more than replenished.  

How are we doing? 

Son #2, with my daughter-in-love and grandson, have flown in from the US to visit Tony. Joy. 

Son #3 has relinquished his night job to Mother Teresa because of busy schedules. He is now, however, the dynast of the Chong dynasty (our nickname for household), relieving me of all duties so I could focus on his dad. Joy. 

Son #1 continues to buy his dad’s medical needs and fave foods, even if he has totally lost his appetite for anything edible. Joy.

In our conversations with his heart doctor (a classmate of my doctor son #2), we recalled Tony’s first heart attack in the early 90s, then his quadruple coronary bypass in 2002. The Lord had given his heart multiple leases on life, more than many heart patients.   

Support--prayers and well wishes from loved ones from many corners of the world--continues to pour, flooding our room with joy.  

We are grateful; we are blessed. We are totally dependent on God's immense grace.  

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10 ESV) 

In a Way, A Missionary

“In a way, you are a missionary,” a friend told me. 

I vehemently objected, because “missionary” comes from the Latin missio, a translation of the Greek verb apostellō, which refers to sending someone out to accomplish an objective. 

The noun form of this verb, apostolos, is transliterated into English as “apostle,” which refers not only to Jesus’ appointed spokesmen, but to “messengers” sent out by the church to other places other than their own to advance the Word. 

“Your books are sent out by your publishers to many places abroad, or they are bought by readers and taken to different places in the world,” he insisted. 

It’s is a stretch, but okay, “in a way.” 

Therese (not her real name), whom I had never met, is a principal in a Christian grade school in the USA. She messaged my social media page that she reads my blogs and books in her Kindle e-reader. “Your book The Teacher in Me is not online, so how may I get a copy?” 

I took the chance to send her a copy, plus two other books that are not available online. Because I have friends in the airline industry, it was easy (not to mention inexpensive) to mail my books anywhere in the world. 

The books reached Therese on New Year’s day. 

Who knows where my other books are really? They were/are “sent out” and  by God’s enabling grace, they will acomplish what we envisioned them to do--to advance the Word.  

"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them inthe name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:19-20 ESV. 

What is Good News?

Topping the bar. Winning an award. Being promoted. Landing a high-paying job. Receiving a fat bonus. Driving a new car. These are ours:  

"Mom, Papa had a small piece of chicken and a bite of pear." 

"Mom, I am sending his favorite TETSU ramen." 

"Ma'am, I bought Sir Tony a small speaker for his phone so he can listen to Elvis." 

He went off the oxygen tank for 30 minutes. 

He sat on a chair for 30 minutes. 

He asked to see Adrian on a video call. 

He asked for a cheeseburger and took one bite.  

His doctor said he can eat anything he wants.

He wants to know if the fire in California has finally stopped. 

He wonders if there is good progress in the war in Gaza.   

He thanks every orderly and nurse who fiddles with his medical attachments.

His three sons communicate almost every hour online. 

His doctors have a GC, where they discuss his condition. 

Each one is a milestone, grace delivered to our hospital room with a view.  It's day 15; we are grateful that the Lord continues to hold our hand. We bow to His will.  

Mother Teresa was the watcher last night and put all my and son #3's mess in place. She cleaned out the fridge of left-overs, arranged our closet, and sorted our laundry.  

Friends and family have been messaging/calling non-stop, encouraging and praying. They ask, “How is he doing today?” but I cannot update them all. Hopefully, this post will, for now. One day at a time. 

We are sorry not to receive any visitors, but that is his doctor’s (and Tony's) order, not mine, or my sons'.  

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7 NLT

Encore: A Hospital Room with a View

Who would have thought we’d be spending New Year’s Day (2025) in . . . first, the Emergency Room, and then before midnight, the hospital room with a view?  

It’s January 13, and we are still here. 

The reason we rushed Tony to the hospital three times in 2018, six years ago, is the same reason he is here today: breathing difficulty. (These do not include the fluke in 2015 when we had to rush him to the same hospital, too.) 

This room is called a “suite” in hospital (not hotel) parlance. Its floor-to-ceiling window/facade allows us to watch the traffic below, the school where I teach and some establishments at eye level, and the sky above.

The wi-fi, much improved six years hence, connects us to the outside world and enables us even to conduct online classes. 

I dont know for how long our stay would be. People are like machines. The wear and tear caused by age is a natural phenomenon. Yet when a breakdown happens, we are never prepared.   

But grace flows daily. The nurses, doctors, orderlies, and other staff are caring, solicitous and, I think, consider us family. Otherwise, why would they call Tony Daddy and me, Mommy? 

Although guests are not allowed, it feels like our faith brethren, friends, and famiily are here with us through encouraging messages, notes, goodies. We are showered with and joined in prayers from all corners. 

Son #3 and I alternate as watchers at night. Son #1 help with purchases. Son #2 with my daughter-in-love and grandson make video calls. I have created a group chat where all 3 sons are alerted every step of the way. 

A God-sent gift through CSM Publishing is the writing of my next book,  a devoseries for children, due at the end of February, for launching in September. It keeps my mind off unwanted thoughts. My computer therefore tags along with me when I go home and come back to the hospital. 

How are we doing? Let me echo Apostle Paul in Romans 8:18, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” 

Palawan ACT 3:

 The Long Way Home 

What took me only one direct, painless hour to travel from home to Palawan took me seven circuitous, painful hours to get home. 

For some unexplained reason, my booking from Palawan to Manila was canceled or was no longer in the list of Philippine Airlines (PAL) when the organizers checked the night before my flight. And the only reason they double-checked was because son #3 kept asking me what was the exact time of my ETA in Manila. 

I kept replying, “Same, same.” 

But having the exact-to-the-last-detail genes of Tony, son #3 was persistent. So that’s how the organizers found out I was not in the list of passengers in the last PAL flight to Manila. 

They went to the PAL office to rectify the error, but because it was a super busy time in Palawan, no seat was available. So the best they could do was to book me a flight to Manila via Cebu (4 hours layover). Otherwise, I’d be staying in the Hotel alone (all GTA participants would have left) one more day. 

And so it was . . . one-and-a-half-hour flight to Cebu. Four hours at the Cebu domestic airport for my connecting, one-and-a-half-hour flight to Manila. 

When I got home it was 2 o’clock in the morning the following day!  

Again, grace traveled with me. All through my looooong way home (Dec. 5-6), this verse was my aerodrome beacon, speaking directly to me: 

Palawan ACT 2:

The Job 

At the top of my head when I went to Palawan was, Finish the job. After judging, there had to be awarding. And Palawan was the awarding site. 

I took the last flight from Manila to Palawan the day before. It was swift and painless—an hour of traveling grace.  Early the next day came “the job.” The Gawad Teodora Alonso (GTA) 2024 occupied many parts of the hotel. On the ground floor was the special dining room for the judges and DepEd officers and Exhibit/fellowship areas. On the second floor—the whole ballroom—was where the extravaganza (all awarding programs) was held. 

As early as mid-morning, book signing and non-stop presentations such as cultural dances, choral renditions, speeches regaled the audience of about 400. 

We were requested to don informal or creative national costumes. It was a chance for me to meet as many officers and educators as I could. Everyone was so friendly as though we had known each other for years. I wish I could remember all their names, but that’s a hard act even to young ones. 

The awarding of prizes was grandiose, peppered with more dances, storytelling, and other stage acts. This was, no doubt, the most lavish event I have attended in my life. From the tiny details of the décor to the huge multi-screen beside the stage area, no expense was spared. The works--all glitz and glam. 

I still have to remember clicking my camera instead of rapt attention to what’s happening before my eyes, so I have no pictures that capture the event. All photos here were sent to me by techie friends who seem to have been born with a camera. 

Here are my several seconds of fame–being on the giant screen and marching to our assigned table. Alas, I could not find a photo of me on stage awarding one grand prize. But believe me, I was there for a minute or two.

The program went way beyond the estimated time, but I had enough sleep to carry me through the next day for my flight home. 

To say that the GTA 2024 Awards Night was spectacular is an understatement.  

Palawan ACT 1:

Quiet Send-off, Loud Welcome 

After five years of traveling only to nearby cities and towns (not more than 50 kilometers away), I mustered enough courage to fly to Puerto Princesa, Palawan on Dec. 3 for the awarding of the Gawad Teodora Alonso national winners. 

As one of the judges invited by DepEd’s Bureau of Learning Resources, I felt I needed to complete the job and congratulate the winners personally. 

Tony decided to send me off and also to come up for air as we have been cooped-up at home since the pandemic. He took a photo of me entering the airport terminal. 

I was speechless when I arrived at the Palawan airport seeing a horde of DepEd staff holding a huge streamer, welcoming me. From thereon, it was happy noise all the way until my assigned room at the hotel.  

Since everyone (judges and guests) had checked in the day before or much earlier, they were finished with dinner when I arrived. They welcomed me with wacky poses, then left . . . 

. . . and I had the dining room all to myself. I spent the rest of my time, before turning in, to thank the Lord for His grace that traveled with me. 

Angels on New Year’s Day

False negative I think they call it in Medicine. That was what might have happened when we were sent home from the Emergency Room.

At home, Tony took the prescribed meds and it was downhill from there. He’d pant and catch his breath even with the slightest move. 

January 1, after online/phone consultation with my three sons, my first purchase was a wheelchair. But even trying to sit on it, our patient would pant, like he raced in a marathon.

So we went back to the emergency room. The Lord sent many angels to help us. A friend drove us to the hospital (Ching must have been an ambulance driver in her other life), Pastor Moe personally came to pray for him, Sis Billie kept me company, held my hand, till son #1 and driver Sammy arrived for the  arrangements. His doctor advised that he be admitted.

Within six grueling hours of tests and waiting for results, faith brethren prayed for us, encouraging  messages flowed continuously from kith and kin. Then we were ushered to a room with a view—that includes the university where I teach! This room is also just across the nurses' station and three steps away from hot/cold water and a microwave. 

The nurses (and staff) are prompt and caring. His doctors are thorough. 

And that was how we spent New Year's day. Grace galore with God's angels. For how long wiill we be here? I leave that in God's hands. 

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." (Psalms 91:11 ESV) 

Silent Soliloquy

Like Hamlet, I had a soliloquy—but only in my mind: To go or not to go. Our annual clan 3-day reunion, now on its 80th year (and therefore a grand one), would happen in two days.

 

But Tony begged off, “I don’t think I can manage the travel.” 

He had a point: that day he lost his usual appetite for gourmet food; he had insomnia; and a semblance of diarrhea. Nothing serious, I thought, but with his comorbidities, his condition could turn for the worse. 

We were all packed, had paid for accommodations, and set to leave as scheduled. “To go or not to go.” 

I first told son #1 of my secret decision not to go. He protested but finally understood. I was not sure about son #3, who had already worked out final arrangements. 

I told my sister about it, then Mother Teresa, then our driver Sammy—all in confidence. Because if Tony knew, he would surely protest vehemently.  

Finally, son #3 understood as well.  

Without any inkling that I would stay behind, Tony bade us all goodbye as the car drove out of the garage. On the road, I got down, waited a few minutes and rang the doorbell. 

Aie called the decision Solomonic. The next day, Tony’s condition got worse, so we hied to the Emergency Room, as advised by his cariodioloist. 

For four long hours, Tony, Sammy, and I waited for his test results in an isolation room. Meanwhile, I updated son #1, #2, and #3 in a group chat I created for this. When the results finally came, the doctor said we could go home. She had been in touch with Tony’s cardiologist for the prognosis and prescription. 

After paying our bill, we headed home. 

My roommate of 54 years is still feeling ill as we await the New Year, but by God's grace, we were spared from spending the beginning of 2005 in a hospital room. 

Have a blessed 2025 dear friends!