I’ve been unusually busy the past few days. I do manage to go to sleep—the kind where my body just surrenders itself to the bed and then to slumber—at around half past five in the morning, at least for the past few days. As if programmed by a Wake Up button, my system automatically reboots at around eight in the morning and my arm automatically extends itself so my hand could grab my phone and check the time, which is of course, always a few minutes shy of or a few minutes over eight. Then I squint and look at my notebook’s screen to see how many new messages have come in while I was catching a few winks. I can now make out from a 6-meter distance when I have an important message. Usually if the new messages were folders filled with paperwork, they’re usually already a meter long up my desk but since they’re just in my inbox, I could say that I can measure them by the inches from afar and they’re always around six inches. So I creep up to my chair and try to force myself to really wake up. I check the e-mails, answer a few of them. Ignore the YM messages and write on the whiteboard the things that I need to finish in a few hours. And then I slump my still tired body to bed.
I don’t go back to sleep. My mom would come in after a few minutes to say that if I will eat at all, food’s ready. And I would grunt in response. Talk about ugly sounds.
So I stay where I am until the image of my whiteboard embeds itself into my memory lane. Just plain work waiting to be finished. Sigh. So I wash my face, brush my teeth, gargle oral antiseptic, change into my house clothes and go down to wave at my dad whose door is always open—he’s hardly mobile due to a cerebrovascular accident (CVA) more commonly known as stroke so he’s always in bed—play with the dogs, clean up their mess, check the beetle, stand motionless by the door and stare blankly at nowhere until my mom asks me something, head back to my room, slump back to bed, take a shower, change into a fresh set of clothes and whatever else—not necessarily in that order.
But I guess I can’t complain. In November last year, while I was living my own life, my brother, who I haven’t spoken with for over a year because of our personal differences, patched things up with me, or so I thought. Well, he needed my “help” because he felt something physiologically incorrect in his body and he didn’t want to alarm anybody else so he went to the person that he knows rarely gets “alarmed” over any emergency–ME! So, I took him to a hospital in Cebu, got him one of the best doctors whose specialization covered his “illness” and so after that, we became “close” again and he went back home with the assurance that he’s ok. Then came December. My sister had a general checkup in May and was given a clean bill of health but in July, she felt a lump in her left breast. In August, she had a fine needle aspiration biopsy and was advised to have a frozen section biopsy because of suggestive mammary carcinoma, or breast cancer. Typical of us Filipinos, they put it off. When I learned about it, I went home and almost dragged her by the hair so she could have that biopsy. True enough, she had breast cancer and after two days, she had a radical mastectomy leaving her breastless, well, at least in the left. So until April, I accompanied her to her chemotherapy sessions. The biopsy after the mastectomy was great. It showed that all cancer cells were removed during the surgery but she had to go through chemo sessions just to be doubly sure that the chances of recurrence won’t be that high.
In March, my boyfriend of over five years and I broke up in a very life-draining way. I suspended the mourning period until my sister was not with me in Cebu because I believed that I could mope and cry my heart out in due time. And that’s what I did for a whole month from April to May. Then I packed my things and headed back home to “forget” and to start anew. And then my sister, who’s a nurse based in NY, announced that she’s coming home for a short short visit. And since no one at home cared enough to clean up the house, I did most of the scrubbing and whatnots on all fours, contacted carpenters, plumbers, etc to fix everything that needed fixing. July came and so did my sister. Then they left.
Needless to say, the freelancer moi gave up a lot of projects from November up to around July this year. So I started to contact my old clients and checked if work was available. I also placed bids in some freelancer haven of a website to get new projects. Work started to come in slowly in August and September and now, God is good, I’m swamped. So yeah, I’ve been really busy that I couldn’t even find time to flirt that much anymore. Jeez! The only time I get to touch myself even, is when I take a bath or after I pee! But like any other woman, I don’t really feel that lacking.
So yeah, I don’t make sense anymore. But I needed to write something to keep me sane. there you go.