Never Ever Play Chicken with my Mom

Back in the day, when the only video games people know of are the likes of Pac-Man and Galaga and kids actually went out to play, I had a sudden urge to learn how to dance Hawaiian.  For some reason, my six-year old self thought that having that grass skirt and hula'ing the day and night away was something that I would have loved to do for the rest of my life.  I begged my parents to let me go, even compromised to go over and beyond being a "good girl."  (Yeah, I know....stop laughing!).  I prodded and prodded, until they finally said yes.  I was so happy, thinking that I'd be the next girl doing the shaky-shaky like that dancer on the opening credits of Hawaii Five-O.

My Mom went to the nearest YMCA and enrolled me to a summer class of Hawaiian dancing and bought me this green grass skirt.  When I saw the skirt, I was so happy and tried it on, even showing off to the rest of those who would care how I'd look nice in it.  I was in Cloud 9 just thinking how I'd be shaking my hips whilst the grass skirt swept the floor!  Yep, I'd be the best dancer out there!  Aaaaaaaaaaaand......the first day of class came.  

I don't know what happened the day before, but all I remember is that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  Now, as most people who know me, I'm bratty when I'm not in the mood.  I know people are crabby on that kind of day, but somehow, all the brat gods in the world convened and empowered me with a very potent mixture of brat mixture and made me drink it in my dreams.  When I arrived at the class, I didn't want to be there.  I don't even want to wear the stupid grass thingy made of plastic straws.  Like who cares if Mom spent some time to make sure I had what I needed to go to a stupid class which I didn't want anyway! Really, why would this princess need to dance?  So, like any other princesses in training, I wailed and screamed and fought and sat on the floor like the spoiled little princess that I was.  Heck, I screamed so much, I even managed to get a bag of chips out of it just as so I could have my way.  Nope, this girl ain't dancin' and that was that!

On our way home, Momsy was just very quiet.  I looked at her, and she just gave me a curt smile.  To pacify her, I even made another compromise.  I told her, "I don't feel like dancing today, but I will tomorrow.  Okay, Momsy?"  She just nodded.  

When we got home, I planned to go out and play.  Momsy, the most-loving mommy in the whole wide world, called me.  I was batting my eyes like the sweet baby that I was and asked her if there was anything she needed.  She replied with a question that would be forever inflicted in my head.  She asked, "How many?"  I looked at her with my innocent brown eyes and asked, "Oh Momsy, whatever do you mean?"  She replied, "How many spankings do you want?"  This is when I realized that my mother is now trying to play chicken with me.  My small, sensible side was pleading, "Don't reply!  Say you're sorry!  Don't do it!"  However, my large, egomaniacal side shouted, "How dare this woman think that you're beyond reproach?  Show her what you're made of!  She'll never do it!"  With the same calmness as my Mom had, I confidently said, "Five."  Yeah......big mistake.  Mom went and got my Dad's leather belt and said, "Okay, go lay down on your belly.  If I hear one crack from you, we are going to start back at one."  And everything after that was blurry.  The next day, I went to the Hawaiian dance class and Pearly Shell'd my ass off like there's no tomorrow.  I became one of the most outstanding dancers in my grade, even went to graduate and danced in front of a whole lotta crowd.  Whatever I did, I sure was not going to throw a fit and piss off my really scary Mother and dare her.  EVER!  

Years later, when we reminisced about this incident, Mom revealed that had I said none, she wouldn't have spanked me at all.  She even chided, "I'm a fair woman.  I only give things you ask for."  And people wonder where I got my smart ass-ness.....lol!

If you read this and thought that my mom was an abusive woman, then you missed the whole point.  She's far from it.  She is loving, caring, and would give anything and everything to her children.  By the same token, she wants us to learn the value of discipline and that we cannot drastically act on things just because we felt like it.  She instilled in us the notion of thinking about your actions carefully and that we and we alone are responsible for our decisions.  Whatever the outcome is, we have to own up to it, and take the consequences, good or bad.  Up to this day, that incident, along the many other times I've been unfairly spanked (for I can never do wrong....LOL), always guide me on how I make my decisions.  

And I've learned not to play chicken with my Mom.  She be crazy....LOL! 

Happy Mother's Day Mom.  I may be partial, but you are the best Mommy in the world.  I love you.

A Birthday Blah

Last year around this time, I felt miserable turning 35.  Most people hate turning 30, but for me, 35 is that age that made me look back and reminisce my life.  It’s like that Sex and City episode when Carrie felt depressed about turning 40.  Last year, that was me.  It felt as if the things I wanted to do were eons away from my grasp.  I felt miserable so much that I was very combative with people who were sunny and happy and disgusting!  To me, the end of my life came to its end and I officially became a married old hag.  That continued for the rest of the year and the new year until………today.

I don’t know what it is about today that makes me feel invigorated.  Maybe it’s that guy at the Argentinian bakery shop who kept on hitting on me despite the fact that the hubster was with me.  Or that waitress at Chili’s who really wouldn’t serve me my Long Island Iced Tea until I showed my ID.  I don’t care if it was protocol, she still carded me, so shut it!  Or that twentysomething cutie pie who thought I was still in college and was ready to buy me coffee.  Maybe these people really made feel that age is just a number, and that how we look can be deceiving.  (That, or maybe I just wanted to be deceived).

I’m not really sure what’s different from last year, but I know the similarities with all my birthdays.  For one, I like having people greet me on this day.  People telling me happy birthday makes me feel that they are celebrating my being part of this dysfunctional world we live in.  Now, I’m not just talking about the mandatory HBD greetings (though I appreciate them as well), but those who actually call or contact me and send out heartfelt and sometimes funny birthday messages.  Most people hate being reminded about the additional year to their age, but I relish them.  Those people make me feel that I am a part of their lives, no matter how miniscule it may be. 

Another thing that feels the same to me is how I love getting  birthday cakes.  It’s not a celebration without the cake.  Not an ice cream cake, not some gourmet tart shit, but a birthday cake.  I don’t care if you put my age on top, but I want my birthday cake!  Add the balloon and I’m a happy girl.  Enough said.  (Yes, I know I’m a kid!)

Of all the things that feel the same about every birthday I have is the love I get from my family and friends.   Now, I’m not talking about the ones that really don’t matter, but rather the ones who are really important to me, the ones who have gone through hell and back with me, looking for that needle in the haystack for me.  They remind me that every year I’m hear, I get to spend another year with them and that every breath I take allows me to relish them every single time. 

So, really I still don’t know why 35 was insanely depressing for me, and 36 isn’t.  I honestly have been trying to answer that these past couple of months.  Things are still beyond my reach, but I'm reaching them. However, as I type this mundane blog of mine, I just started thinking on all my past birthdays, and end of it all, it was probably because I didn’t get a party last year.  What?  You know how shallow I can be. :-P

Happy Birthday to me, and I do hope that I get many more.  Maybe I should go to that bakery again....lol!

What I’m Thankful For – An Immigrant’s Thanksgiving

When I first arrived from the Philippines, I didn’t know what the big deal was about Thanksgiving.  You see, as a Catholic coming from a predominantly Catholic country, Christmas was the only holiday of importance to me.  That, and my birthday, but everybody loves me, so that’s a given….lol!  When I celebrated my first Turkey day, the only thing I could thank for that day was all the food, most especially that big bird.  Who knew they made chicken that huge???  Of course, as years passed by and I have been educated in school about the history of the US, it became clearer to me why the Pilgrims’ journey is very significant in the very existence of the United States.  And yes, it was turkey they served, not chicken!

However, I question myself at times, am I thankful for the same things as the passengers of the Mayflower?  I wasn’t trying to escape religious persecution or tyrannical rule.  Comparatively, my life is better, that’s true, but I’m really too young to realize if we were better off not living in the old country.  If I have to choose between voyaging into the unknown or staying put, I think our lives would not be much affected had we chosen the latter (I dunno….I’ll have to ask my Mom about that).  So, as I celebrate this Thanksgiving, I decided to list some, as I have plenty, of the things I am thankful for as I let you in to the world of this immigrant.

First, and an obvious one, I am thankful for my husband.  I am the epitome of the tantrums of 10 spoiled kids.  I am irrationally stubborn, and everything has to be my way.  To have someone who not only loves me, but puts up with such cantankerous child like me is heaven-sent.  When I hear of my friends and how they have to deal with their sometimes man-child husbands, all I could think about is, “man, it’s the other way around with me and the hubby.” 

Secondly, I’m thankful for my family.  I am very lucky to have the kind of family who will support you through thick and thin, call you on your bullshit when they need to, and love you unconditionally.   I love the fact that we are not enablers and none of us are afraid to tell each other that they are wrong, most especially if they are going down the wrong path.  (If that hits the spot, yes, I’m talking to you!).  Don’t get me wrong, the love never subsides, but for us, it is even more of a mistake to cheer someone on, even if they’re going onto trouble with their suitcases on both hands.  Nevertheless, when that person falls and need a shoulder to cry on, we are always there, not to say I told you so, but just to give them a helping hand.  If you disagree, write your own blog then!

Non-secular friends, you can skip this part. J I am also thankful for God.  Now, before you say it’s because I went to Catholic school, that’s not the reason at all.  As a matter of fact, I think it made me even question my belief more.  The reason why I am thankful to God is during the times when I am hopelessly looking for answers, I prayed and asked for help in pointing me to the right direction.  Now, I didn’t ask for solution to my problems, but I just asked for strength, courage, and some clue of what my choices are.  I remember when I was meditating in the campus chapel at the University of St. Thomas , I was just really asking for guidance on a problem that has been boggling my mind (not willing to share yet).  That same day, I found a reply to my question.  It wasn’t necessarily a solution, but it was definitely an answer.  Many would argue that it could be just a figment of my imagination or that I was desperately trying to believe, but that is not the case.  I would explain further, but not in this blog.

Another thing I’m thankful for is the advancement in Medicine.  As many of you know, I am a cancer survivor.  What I failed to mention is that I had an Aunt who suffered from the same type of cancer, but did not share the same fate as I did.  She lost both legs and had to go through so many rounds of chemo only to lose the battle.  This happened more than 50 years ago.  As I ponder through my experience with cancer, I am really thankful for the researchers out there who are working feverishly to not only better the treatment for cancer, but to find the cure.  As long as we have these scientists who are committed in eradicating cancer, we are one step closer to making cancer history®.

What would I be without my friends?  Although you can count my real friends in two hands, (yes, they’ve doubled since last year J), they are people whom I can count on.  They will listen to me every time I whine about my daily misgivings, tell me when I’m being a baby, and give me the honesty I ask for when the people around me are afraid to tell me the reality of things.  I tend to be strong-willed, and sometimes, I do need that person to ask me that question, “WTF is wrong with you?” 

I am thankful for a job I love.  It is very rare nowadays to hear someone say that they look forward to going to work.  My job gives me the challenge that I need, and the company I work for respects the fact that family comes first.  Of course, there are certain compromises that I have to make, but nothing that would make me want to say, “I quit!”  That’s all I have to say about that because I don’t want them to think I like working…lol!

Lastly, I’m thankful for meeting all kinds of people from different kinds of races with different types of religion (or lack of).  These people have allowed me to be open-minded about their cultures and beliefs and have taught me the very one thing every person should aim to have from anybody – RESPECT.  It doesn’t matter if they believe in what I believe in, nor does it matter if our cultural differences are immense.  Regardless of our differences, they have welcomed me in their lives (and them, in mine) with open arms and have given me a chance to glance on how they see the world.  I may not totally agree with them, but I will always fight for their right to believe in what they believe in. 

Quite frankly, I have so many things to be thankful for that a day’s worth of typing won’t even scratch the surface.  What I do know is that even though I may not have the same reasons as the Pilgrims did when they first landed, so many things have happened and are still happening in my life that this holiday has given me a chance to look back and say, “Yes, I am thankful.” 

So, to all you people out there, Happy Thanksgiving, and once in a while, stop by and reminisce the good things in your life that allow you to say, “I am thankful.”  Oh, and the turkey is not a chicken!

  

Who's Crazier Anyway? An Anniversary Blog

Did you know that I almost didn’t get married?  Yep, I was so flustered and frustrated with everything going on that a couple of days before the wedding I almost called the whole thing off.  I became so upset and felt that I didn’t know who this person I was marrying.  Did I catch him cheating?  No.  Did he physically abuse me?  Hah!  Let’s see him try.  Many people have asked what he did so wrong, but I have kept it all inside me (with the exception of a chosen few) and for the very first time, I am about to divulge the one thing he did that almost made me a runaway bride.  I hope that the heavens above forgive me for what I’m about to reveal.  Here it is.  He…..forgot……to give…..the CD…..to our DJ!  Oh, the horror!

LOL!  Sad as it was, that was the awful truth.  I was ready to call off the wedding because he forgot to do the one thing I had asked him to do the week before we were about to get married.  Petty as it was, the preparation had finally gotten to me at that point and I was a walking time bomb.  Looking back, it really wasn’t a big deal, but in my mind, everything was blown out of proportion and with Cookie Monster forgetting the CD, my head compounded it to “This is not the only time he’d forget something” or, “what else will he forget?”  What about his vows?  Will he forget that too?  To a rational mind, that is the most ridiculous thing one could hear, but to a bride, nothing is far-fetched.

Nonetheless, I’m glad that the cooler, more rational Poch emerged from that situation.  You see, it is not about the wedding, but the marriage.  Throughout the years we’ve been together, Cookie Monster has always been patient with me.  He knew about my whims and craziness even before he asked me to marry him.  Don’t get me wrong, he sometimes loses his cool when I become the two-headed monster (and vice versa….he’s no angel, you know!).  Nonetheless, he has accepted me wholeheartedly for what I am and wouldn’t expect me to change.  Because of that acceptance, I strive to be a better person who much deserves the unconditional love that Cookie Monster gives.  I fail at times, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. 

Now, we are celebrating our 6^th year-anniversary, and we’ve never had a fight (insert sarcasm here)...LOL!  However, between the good and the bad, the ups and the downs, and everything else in between, the one thing I am certain is that I never regret not taking Monsignor Schuster’s advice of running before I take my vows and say “I do.”  We’re still in our honeymoon stage, I’m sure, but I think....no, I'm sure that there is nobody in this world who can tame the craziness inside me other than the one I am married to. 

Happy Anniversary, Charles Thomas Barrett.  I love you.  

On Friendship....Part I (of many parts)

Not too long ago, a friend of mine was defriended by one of our mutual friends on Facebook.  Let’s call them friend D and friend C. Now, most sane people would say, so what? It’s just Facebook.  However, you have to consider two things – one, Facebook has become a vital part of our livelihood, together with Twitter, Google+, etc, and two, the majority of my friends are not sane….lol!  Anyway, friend D got disconnected from friend C’s circle of friends not because she did her wrong or she betrayed her.  Quite frankly, if I’m going to base it on what friend D told me, it was quite mundane.  It was because friend D didn’t report to friend C what one of our other mutual friend was going through and that, although friend C had picked a fight with the mutual friend months before, leading to a public blow out (on Facebook, of course, and yes, I saw it unravel…lol!), friend C felt that she was owed to be told since she is supposedly the closest to the mutual friend.  I’m pretty sure there were more underlying circumstances other than the reason I was told, but at the end of the day, the question that goes through my mind is, if friend C was really interested, why didn’t she contact our mutual friend?

Now, I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going through friend C’s mind.  I’m one of those people who do not ask because it is not in my place to insert myself in a situation unless I was asked to be a part of it.  However, I can’t help but wonder why we feel entitled to other people’s situations?  It is one thing if one of my very good friends come to me and confided about what they’re going through, but it’s a whole different ballgame if I spread their circumstances to the world.  On a personal level, it wouldn’t bother me if people knew about the things I went and have been going through.  The way I look at it, if I really want to keep it a secret, I wouldn’t have told anybody to begin with.  However, not all people are like me.  Most people want their privacy and they will tell the world their circumstances when they are ready to do so.  That day may never come, but it is their prerogative with whom they need to share or not share the information with.

In the scenario mentioned, there are a lot of questions that go through my mind.   However, for the purpose of this topic, the one question that I am trying to fathom is, why did she take it so hard that she was not informed of our mutual friend’s current state?  It would have been easier to understand if I didn’t know about how scathing she could be and that the things that she said made several people guarded with her.  I just really don’t understand why she got angry that she wasn’t one of the first one to know amongst our group of friends.  Why is it very hard for many people to accept that they will not be privy to all kinds of sensitive information all the time?  Have we gone really arrogant that we shudder at the though that not everybody confides in us?

Many of my friends have told me that they feel like they can confide in me all the time.  While that is really flattering, I honestly don’t think that they tell me everything that goes on with their lives, and don’t expect them to.  The only things I offer my friends are my ears for listening, my shoulder to cry on, and my heart for compassion.  In my humble opinion, that is the basic foundation of friendship. 

So, going back to my story, one, I hope friend D will not get angry for me telling the situation.  Friend C has defriended me as well, so I’m pretty sure this will just add to the things that she’s angry about with me (I honestly don’t know why, and at this point, I’ve given up all hope in trying to understand her).  Nonetheless, the one thing we need to realize is that, our friends don’t owe us anything but friendship and vice versa.  If we cannot accept that, then we’re not really friends to begin with.  

COMPLACENCY

I haven’t blogged in a while for a lot of reasons, but mainly because there really is nothing out there that piqued my interest.  It seems to me that it is still business as usual.  I’ve tried writing stuff about social events, current news and affairs, things that really should matter.  However, at the end of the day, I really don’t want to talk about something that has been hashed and rehashed over and over again.  Up until now.

Recently, I just got a promotion at work.  Of course, it was exciting and all, but that’s not what the topic of this blog is.  As long as I have worked with this company, I have been lucky enough to work with people I have had professional interactions in the past.  It helps, most especially since I wouldn’t have to start new working relationships with people I do not know.  Of the three times I have transferred, I knew at least 2 or 3 people in the group I was transferring into, so there is some sort of comfort zone already.  I figured, I won’t have to deal with new characters and wouldn’t have to size up people again.  Then again, I wouldn’t be a Rosedelian if things happen routinely.  In this case, I was transferred to a whole new ballgame – I have been transferred to work with people I have not even had a chance to say hi to.

So, when I started to work with my new group, I was brought back to that old, jittery feeling of being the new kid in school.  As most of those who personally know me, I have transferred to so many schools that I’m always the new kid in town.  You’d think that I should be used to it by now, but like I said, my prior transfers were very convenient in terms of working with familiar names and faces, it felt as if you were just meeting friends at different times and places.  However, this brand new transfer took me out of the comfort zone that I have been accustomed to.  In short, I became very complacent.

I guess that’s what I’m running my ahead up and about these days – complacency.  Often times, we have gotten so used to our daily routines and familiar surroundings that we tend to take for granted the things that we usually do.  For example, I have become so used to driving around to go places, near or far, that I never really thought about how it would be without a car.  Then, just last Tuesday, my truck finally said, “Eff it, I’m retiring,” and just wouldn’t start.  Even after getting it fixed and spending sizable amount of money to get it running, it has finally decided to die.  So, here I am, at the mercy of people who have cars to drive me around whilst I wait until I can buy another one, feeling as if I’m naked and exposed.  For the first time in a very long time, I feel as if I can’t do a darn thing.  Heck, I didn’t feel as helpless as I do now as when I lost my leg…LOL!

I heard on the radio last week that some people are afraid to divorce their spouses and would rather stay in a loveless marriage because they’re afraid to be alone again.  They figured that it would be easier to stay in a loveless relationship rather than start back from square one and search for the right one.   Even worse, people who are victims of abusive relationship would use their faith, saying that they entered into a marriage of vows – for better or for worse, in sickness and in health….yeah, I know the vows.  I recited them when I get married.  However, I don’t think God had planned for you to stay and die just because of your vows.  I think that using your faith is very easy albeit cowardly reason to use as an excuse.   If you really believe in your faith, then you would remember that Jesus also said, “Love one another as I love you,” which, if I remember my Theology class, is overwrites all the other commandments.  If that person loves you, then they wouldn’t hurt you.  In my humble opinion, people stay in abusive relationships because it would be easier to put up with the punches rather than start all over again.  In short, they became complacent.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that being complacent is all bad.  I mean, I’m very happy and content to be waking up to my husband’s snoring, and quite frankly, I don’t think I have a good night sleep without it….lol!   However, if we have become so used to things being the same over and over again, then the question I would ask is, what would you do if that complacency is taken away from you? 

The danger of being complacent is that somehow, we have become so accustomed to routines that we react negatively once our comfort zone is disturbed.  In the case of my new work assignment, I have to make sure that I don’t shock the new group I work with my bluntness and humor.  (Yeah, I gave them 2 weeks before I let them taste my humor – and they still like me. WINNING!) In most cases though, people react to changes aggressively that at times, they don’t see how they are in fact, hurting themselves more.  I mean, what if all the vegetables in the world have been forever wiped out and the only abundant food source we have is meat?  How would our vegan friends react to that?  Easy to say you’d rather die, but really, have you really been in a situation when the only thing you can eat is the one thing you say you’d never eat?  I mean, for crying out loud, my husband gives me the stinky eye when I suggest that maybe we should start becoming vegetarians.....lol!

I guess the question going through my head is, what do you do if you’re taken out of your comfort zone?  Do you try to take yourself back to that Zen where everything is just perfect, or do you proactively try to cope and see if you can adjust to the change?  There’s no right or wrong way to go about it, just your way.  Either way you go, it’s always YOUR choice.

Chop Chop

Let me take you back to one morbid day in November.  Thanksgiving was just around the corner, but somehow, there was this girl who just didn’t think there was anything to be thankful for.  She woke up from an already sleepless night, and her husband felt as if he was about to send her to a slaughterhouse.  When she got to the hospital, she checked in, trying to clear her head of what’s about to come to pass.  She tried thinking of work, of vacation, of anything that’ll distract her, but her eyes knew the inevitable is to come.  She was wheeled in the prep room, dreading of what was to come next.  The floodgates burst open and she started to cry.  

Her husband, feeling helpless and desperate, took a deep sigh and said, “You don’t have to go through it.  Just say the word, and we’re out of here.”  The nurse was taking too long, there is still time to bust out of that joint.  She decided to put on her pants, but just as when she was about to zip it, the nurse comes in and started hooking her to the machine.  Two anesthesiologists came in and explain what was about to happen  -- in three seconds after administering the anesthesia, she would go to sleep.  Just before they pumped the drug, she looked at her husband, took a deep breath, kissed him, and said, “I love you, I’ll see you when I wake up.”

It felt like she just took a 10-minute nap, but in fact, she has been in surgery for 4 hours.  When she woke up, she was greeted by a nurse with a sweet, motherly smile.  “How are you feeling,” the nurse asked.  She felt alright, so she just gave a smile and a nod.  She didn’t feel any different.  There was no pain, no tinge, nothing.  Maybe they changed their minds, she thought.  Maybe the doctor decided that it wasn’t worth going through it.  Then again, she’s not one to just go with wishful thinking.  She gathered all the confidence she could muster, looked under the blanket so she could see for herself, and she realized, it was gone.  Her left leg had been amputated.  

She then reassessed her situation.  How does she feel?  What is she thinking?  How the heck is she going to the bathroom now?  Oh, and the boots she just bought before the diagnosis….she’ll be damned if somebody wears that other than her!  Then, she realized that it wasn’t really that bad.  She didn’t feel any differently.  Crazy as it was, she thought that there would be something lacking, something that she’ll always miss.  She felt that she would never be complete, not just physically, ever again.  She started to feel like her old self.  Then, her sister came, all somber and about to cry.  This would be the biggest test the girl would ever face.  Would she cry with her sister ?  Would she be depressed?  The answer would come in a matter of minute.

Her Ate (pronounced ah-teh) stood by her bedside, asking how she was doing.  Alright, she answered.  She wasn’t lying.  Yet, her sister tried so hard not to say much because she was about to flood the whole recovery floor of the hospital.  Desperate, the girl told her sister, “Look under my sheet, Ate.”  Her sister was perturbed.  “What?” “Just look under.  I need you to look at something.”  Ate was getting uncomfortable.  She didn’t want to look because she knew she would not be able to handle it.  But the girl insisted.  “You got to look, because I can’t see it for myself.”  Finally, Ate relented and she lifted the sheet.  Under it, the girl lifted her stump, waved it up and down, and she said, “My leg says hi!”  Her Ate as well as the motherly nurse who witnessed it started laughing.  Her husband came to the room as well, and when they told him what the girl did, he breathed a sigh of relief.  Then, the girl thought to herself, “I’m still here.”

Okay, if you didn’t know who the girl was, that girl was me, and the whole scenario was exactly how the whole day unfolded.   By no means am I making light of how hard it is to be amputated, but all truly, it is not the amputation that burdened my heart.  Nobody wants to ever lose any part of their limbs, and deciding on the amputation was one of the hardest decisions I have had to face thus far.  It is almost as if you were given a choice of punishment, and you will have to choose between getting eaten by an alligator or mangled by a shark.  Either way, it sucks.  

However, looking back, I realized it wasn’t the amputation that bothered me, or the inability to do the things I used to – walk aimlessly, go places as I please, swim, things that I took for granted since I never thought I’d lose my leg.  Oddly enough, I really thought that by losing my leg, I will not be complete at all, as if a part of me will be forever taken away.  I thought that the Pochie that everybody knows will never be the same.  It wasn’t until my sister visited me right after my surgery did I realize that I could be limbless and still be complete.  The amputation did not take my sense of humor.  My convictions are still as stubborn as before the surgery.   I still am conflicted who’s hotter – Orlando Bloom or Eric Bana….hah!  

Some would think it crazy why anyone would think that way.  Heck, I was one of those people who didn’t understand up until my surgery why people think that losing a part of their body would take away their personality.  However, I have since come to the realization that it is not just about the limb, but when your sense of comfort has been disturbed, you start questioning if everything and anything will ever be the same again.   It is very hard to look passed the small picture of losing a limb, many people don’t realize that it is beyond the physical loss that bothers them, but the aftermath.  I guess in my case, it was important for me to know that I would still be me, perverted mind and all.  Luckily, I’m also hardheaded and hate to have anything or anybody tell me what I can and cannot do.  I suppose everybody has their own resolve.

So, I’m a certified amputee.  Heck, I have my two prosthetics to prove it….LOL!  In the end, I am just glad to have realized that I may have lost my limb, but I am still intact.  If anything, it has strengthened my character even more and I really do feel that I can do almost anything.  Besides, I like my reserved parking spot.  :-D