I was cleaning up my soft files just now, and came across a five-day journal written 20 days after we rushed Mike to Asian Hospital. I can never forget that day, the 10th of October, 2012. After a leisurely lunch at Palms Country Club, we returned to the office to work. Mike came out of the toilet trembling and ashen-faced. He was unable to pee. At the hospital, they put a cateter and fresh blood came out. They admitted him for observation and a biopsy. More than a week later, we were told he had cancer. Life as I knew it stopped.
Those were tumultous days. We didn’t know where and who to run to for advice on how best to handle the situation, what kind of doctors we should approach, what treatment to take. His urologist Dr. JV Prodigalidad recommended that Mike have a colonoscopy to determine if the cancer had spread. We followed his advice and Mike was admitted to St. Luke’s Hospital for the procedure. Meanwhile, the biopsy samples were sent for additional testing.
Everything was a blur, except for one thing that was crystal clear. I knew I had to be strong for Mike, and for the family. Bea was in Boston taking up her masters, Cara in Boracay working, and Niccolo was in 4th year high school. I had a business to run, client commitments to fulfill, and employees who relied on us. I held on to God’s hand tightly.
I cry as I re-read what I had written almost three years ago.
October 30
St. Lukes. Mike has his scheduled colonoscopy with Dr. Cua. I wait at the reception area, working on the IOS final report. A nurse comes and hands me Mike’s watch and wedding ring. I look at my phone, and it’s JV Prodigalidad apologizing that he has not been feeling well and was thus not able to respond to my text messages. I ask him if he already has the results of the bone scan and the additional steins. He says yes, and that it is not good. He says, “Stage Four, Monette.” The world stops turning. I ask him how much time I have. He says he doesn’t know, and says he prefers to tell Mike himself at his clinic. I break down and cry, with everyone looking at me, some with sympathetic eyes.
Then, Karla calls to say there’s a problem with the office doors and no one can go in. She hears my breaking voice and asks me why. I can’t talk, except to say I will send Jonathan with my keys. Jonathan arrives, saying he doesn’t need to go to the office anymore because the staff has solved the problem. I ask him to watch my things, and go to the chapel to pray and sob uncontrollably. While there, my phone rings and Jonathan says they want me to see the doctors who are working on Mike’s colonoscopy.
With my heart in my throat, I run back to where Mike is. They let me in to the operating room, and I see Mike on his side, peacefully sleeping on the operating table, while holding on to the bed’s bar, with a team of doctors and nurses surrounding him. Dr. Cua shows me a cyst on the screen and says he will excise it and have it biopsied. He says other than small ones, this was the only one they found. I beg to stay, but am told to leave and just wait until the procedure is over. I couldn’t help myself but bend over and kiss Mike, to the doctors’ surprise.
When Mike was done, we have a quick lunch at Becky’s Kitchen. Oh, how my heart ached while I sat with Mike. In the car, I check my mail and notice an email from Myla Reyes asking Sab and me to attend an exhibitors’ meeting in the afternoon. I call the office to check on things, and talk to Sab who is at her wits’ end because HIMOAP had scheduled the meeting suddenly for 3pm and she had tons of other work to do for the event. I told her I would handle the meeting and to send me the report. I then asked Jonathan to drop me off at BPAP, to bring Mike home to rest, and to get the biopsy slides for Arnel.
At BPAP, I worked furiously at the TeamAsia Room on the IOS report. Raymond was coming in at 2pm and I intended to discuss the financials with him before the HIMOSC exhibitor meeting. All the while, there was a big gaping hole in my heart. How can anyone not see it bleed?
I called Arnel and told him what I had learned from JV. I told him I didn’t know how to tell Mike. He said JV should do it, not me. I called JV’s secretary and she set us up for 8pm.
October 31
Mike is set to meet Dr. Gary Lorenzo, the oncologist recommended by our friend, Dr. Arnel Diaz. I want to go with Mike but can’t because I have a Handling Difficult People seminar with nine people signed up. It is the most difficult teaching assignment I have ever had to do.
November 1
At St. Luke’s again for Mike’s CT scan by 7:45am. The test is scheduled at 10am, but he has to start taking barium two hours before. Poor Mike hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since last night. I bring the slides to Pathology for a second reading by Dr. Zamuco. The test ends by 11 and we go to have a hearty breakfast at Bizu. A quick trip back home and we leave for our hideaway in Alfonso with Niccolo and Bugsy who is beside himself with excitement at the prospect of a car ride. At Alfonso, Mike is so tired, he falls asleep almost the whole afternoon and night. I break down while preparing dinner, burning a panful of garlic and onions. I watch him sleep and feel that he is slipping away.
November 3
We’re on the way back to Southbay with Niccolo and Bugsy. Mike insists on driving the E150. We did a quick stop at Mahogany Market so I could buy two guyabano trees that I intend to plant in Southbay for their leaves, as well as some herbs for cooking. Then Niccolo decides he wants buko tart at Rowena’s. Next stop: Robinson Nuvali for a pit stop.
For lunch, I whipped up a quick creamy mushroom pasta. Mike was tired from the long drive, and settled himself in front of the TV. Niccolo has been asking us to put up the Christmas décor early this year, and since Cara is arriving on the 16th, I decided to go ahead and put up the Christmas tree. After opening the boxes, I discover that only half the rice lights were working and my lovely angel was broken. Niccolo didn’t want to go with me to the store to get lights. I made a few calls to friends, but no one was free. I found myself going to my neighbor Lily White, who very kindly agreed to go with me. We prayed together and I felt at peace waiting for her in her quiet prayer room.
When I got home, I noticed that Mike was quieter than usual. Over dinner, Niccolo was bugging us to allow him to go to Boracay in April with his batchmates. Mike said we need to know if there will be parents around and who he would be with, as he would most probably not be in any condition to go. When Niccolo left the table, Mike told me that I should be prepared in case things did not work out as we wanted. I could no longer hold back my tears, and I broke down in front of Mike. Oh, God, why? Why?
It’s been three years, and yet re-reading this journal, it feels like yesterday. The pain is always there, sometimes numbed, at other times, palpably fresh and throbbing. I read somewhere that pain is the price one pays for having loved. Yes, it is a steep price, but I am forever grateful to have loved and been loved by Mike.