Not by distance nor of seasons

It’s always been a dream to win the lottery. The fantasy that goes with
such thinking is unreal. There are places to see, people to meet and of
course, money to spend. But there’s a lottery that most people dread.
It’s the knocking of misfortune on one’s door which can come with
some unpleasant surprises causing anxiety, pain, and grief. I had
misfortune visiting one day. My world nearly crumbled.

It started a day like any other. My wife settled herself in the living
room playing the piano piece she loves. Midway, she felt a pain in her
chest, the kind that she has never felt. Her breathing became difficult,
as though constricted, like a ton of brick lay on her chest. She gathers
her strength to call out for help. A neighbor rushed in, saw her leaning
on the piano, and instinctively, she’s brought to the hospital’s
emergency room (ER).

Meanwhile, unaware of what’s going on, it’s a normal day in the office
for me. Past noon, I got a call from a number I did not recognize.
Rather than ignore it, I answered. I was told my wife was in the ER
and if I can come immediately. I asked if I can speak to her thinking
could this be the budol-budol gang? Our neighbor instead spoke to me.
That was when I knew it’s her. It’s serious, too. I dropped everything,
left word with a colleague of my family emergency.

Reaching the ER, I saw the pillar of my strength, my soul mate and
partner, lying on the bed, helpless, hapless, but not humor-less (she
raised the L-sign, laban she signals) while being administered oxygen,
intravenous fluids, and what not. She loathes attention, ironically,
she’s attended to by as many as a basketball team. One nurse
approached me to confirm my relationship with the patient. She asked
me more questions. All the time while I answered, my thoughts were
racing, God, please give her the strength to pull through….

The ER attending cardiologist sided up to me. She informed me that

my wife had just suffered a heart attack. She was lucky to have gotten
medical attention quickly. Then she told me what she needed.
Immediately, an angiogram, to detect arteries blocked by plaque that
prevents smooth blood flow which could lead to a fatal cardiac arrest If
there’s such blockage, to determine its number, and then to either do
an angioplasty, an intervention that inserts a very tiny tube, called a
stent to push the collapsed artery walls to allow blood to flow again
freely or a heart bypass surgery.
The information overwhelmed me. If untreated, she’s a walking time
bomb the doctor warns. How can someone so precious to me carry a
ticking time bomb? Then, there’s the matter of cost. Heart surgery is
like luxury goods, best known from a distance and if acquired should
only be by the rich and infamous. This is where reality bites. Life
hangs in a balance and my family’s balance sheet lists little surplus, if
at all.

Yet, trust in the only One who has the answer. Only the Lord can
respond, totally and completely in times like this. I did the best thing.
I prayed. It’s praying that will move mountains. Realizing my
incapacities, I turned to my greatest ally, and implored Him, “Lord, I
pray for your mercy and compassion. I know that now, I see only one
set of foot prints, Yours, as you carry me in this difficult moment. I lift
all of these to You and your infinite wisdom. Your will be done!”

With that prayer and surrender, I felt at peace. By some reason, my

fear was no longer as intense. I assured my wife not to worry. And
indeed, our guardian angels descended to rescue her. This is a major
fund raising activity. And help did come in such speed it boggles the
mind.

As mothers are linked to an invisible umbilical cord, what ails her child
she feels. My mother is based in Toronto. The time zone alone affords
a 12-hour difference. Her night is my day. While I chose not to inform
her of my predicament, my prayers may have crossed boundaries and
somehow, Bro managed to send her a distress call. She says she just
had a feeling of longing for me all too suddenly. Mother’s intuition?

This proves that a Mother’s love is endless. Neither distance nor

seasons can thwart it. At six in the evening, still in the ER, angelus
time, with a soft voice she asked, “How is my son?” Then and there I
lost it. I was seven all over again. I unabashedly cried…not so much
out of fear, but how faithful God is by giving me a Mother who is my
main guardian angel on earth.

I told her of my wife’s condition. I knew that she was also in tears yet
she was trying to be strong for us. She assured me that there’s
nothing to worry about. “I love you, Son. And God will be with you
now. I’ll pray for both of you.”

The next morning, I got a call from my brother. Mother not only
prayed for us, she also sent money which came in the nick of time.
Like a mother’s love, the cash came fast and convenient. I used it to
complete the funds for her angioplasty. She survived the ordeal. She
has the heart of a lion now. It’s my jackpot moment!

Toronto is cold and detached, Mother observes, but she ignores this.
While there, she is able to earn, save, and share, with us. This is not
luck alone. It’s God’s blessing. I just have to pay it forward, in the way
she expects: by loving God and my family just like how Mother always
does, unconditionally, even from half a world away.