Matters of the heart

Never in a thousand years did I expect to undergo an open heart surgery, nor have a congenital heart disease. But I did.

The thought of being sick scared me. But what really scared me was the fact that I might not survive the operation at all.

When the doctor told me that my heart was already on the borderline of being operable and unoperable, I felt that my world crashed and burned. Being my usual self, I decided to undergo the operation.

How could I be sick? Why me? But I have to trust God. That was what I knew was certain at that time. Trust God.

Without any assurance of surviving the operation, I decided to undergo it anyway.

I remember that day. I remember my Mom's worried face, and the adamant objection of my husband. But I have to take any little chance that I can get, all for the sake of my daughter Cindy.

Before I went asleep prior to the operation, I prayed for only one thing "Lord, please let me wake up"

I did not know the things that happened during the operation but I just believed and had faith that God was with me. All I can remember is waking up at the recovery room. Then I said "Thank God!" and went back to sleep.

Little did I know what really transpired at the operating room. Officially I was clinically dead for a few minutes. After closing the hole in my heart and getting me off the monitors, my heart would not recharge. The doctors were in a panic mode, and my mom and husband were crying outside the operating room. They had to open me up again and leave a tiny hole in my heart so that my heart can beat and my lungs could function.

Meanwhile, in my "dead" state I saw myself floating above the chocolate hills. I was wearing an all white dress. Then I saw my grandpa. As I was about to take his hand he told me in Tagalog "GO back. It is not your time yet" (Bumalik ka, di mo pa oras).

Totoo pala ang sundo!

Days after my successful operation, my worries were still far from over. Aside from trying to recuperate from the operation, I had to face some "controversies" that were being hurled at me by my husband, courtesy of the housemaid. Some of the stories were even exaggerated to the point that my reputation as a mother and as a woman was besmirched. I can feel the love for my husband disappear and that I just wanted to kill the maid for spreading such lies. But I knew that I was not given a second life to waste on her.

So I just send her on her way. She did leave me a fake apology letter.

As for my hubby, I almost packed my bags and left him. It was just exasperating to think that he will side with a maid more than he will side with his wife who just survived an operation. As much as this will hurt him, he is an insensitive jerk.

Do I have plans of leaving him? I am still entertaining that thought.

Right now my heart is healing faster physically than it is emotionally, but like any other battles that I have overcome I know that I will triumph.

Thank you to those who helped me during my most difficult times: Bob, Chin, Oman, Phen and the hunky boys for the blood donation, Ryan, Judy, Robert, Nino, Ryan and Cyrus for the blood donation and prayers, and to my EPH family most especially to ma'am Clarice, Salmajayne and Paean who visited me at the hospital.

To God belongs all the glory.