Althea Writes Here

I received an adjustable cocktail ring as a freebie with a purchase I made from Carousell. I didn't like the color at first, so I immediately tossed it into my To Donate pile, which soon got lost among my clutter.  I found it again recently, years later, and this time around, the light hit it differently, and I found myself enamored by the vibrant cyan color. I looked closer and noticed that the center stone was framed by tiny crystals instead of what I mistakenly thought were metal engravings. There's also a marking on the band that may be "925," which indicates that the ring is made of sterling silver, a precious metal. So I did some quick research. While the ring is not that valuable, it's also not as cheap as I originally thought! I really thought it was glass or, worse, plastic! My quick research told me that, for costume jewelry, sterling silver is typically partnered with cubic zirconia and, at a minimum, lab-grown gemstones. In the case of my ring, it coul...

I still need to get my blood drawn regularly, as I am still required to undergo a lot of tests. It feels never-ending, and while I've gotten used to it, I still go on a little bit scared.  Yesterday's blood draw was quick. The tech found a vein on her first try. But when she pulled out the syringe, there was a bit of pain. After bandaging me up, she told me to apply pressure for three minutes and not to bend my arm.  As my mother and I were walking outside, I felt a thick wetness on the site. I looked down and saw blood. A lot of it. I panicked. What if the gushing doesn't stop? Mommy calmly said to continue applying pressure. That will stop, she said.  I remembered my grandfather, who passed away when I was 9. One of the stories my mother always told us was about how he would faint at the sight of blood. I believe I got my squeamishness from him, although another side of me is still sometimes fascinated by gore.  Anyway, I asked Mommy to tell me more about Lolo Lino...

Still in the thick of decluttering, I found these seeds I picked up during a trip to Siquijor years ago. They were nestled in a small pocket carved by the waves on a beachside rock. I was fascinated by their shape--they looked like stone-gray eggs--and when I picked one of them up and shook it instinctively, I was amused to hear it rattle. I found out today what they are called: nickernuts, sea pearls, or fever nuts, the seeds of the coastal Caesalpinia bonduc vine. ​In our language, they are called ​ kalumbibit or ​ bayag-kambing. They usually come in pairs in a pod that cracks open, releasing them into the sea, where they travel on currents, crossing oceans and washing up along beaches. Apparently, they have medicinal (they are used to treat fevers, expel worms, ease period pains, and many more ailments) and traditional uses (children use them as marbles or as tokens in the board game  sungka ).  What fascinates me more, however, is that they are also considered good luck ch...

One of the surgeons who took care of me was a very serious fifth-year resident. He would barrel into the room all business-like without saying a word and just check on my wounds. You know what broke the ice? I have a scar that runs from below my sternum to my lower abdomen. It had healed up cleanly, but one part of it had my mother worried.  I should say that the main reason for my prolonged hospital stay was infection. I had a drain that looked like it was healing, but it suddenly oozed pus, so we monitored each wound closely. Doctor: Mukhang maayos na. (It already looks good.) Mom: Pero may part na kulu-kulubot, Doc. Ano iyan? (But there's a wrinkled part, Doc. What is that?) Doctor, concerned: Saan? (Where?) My mom pointed. Doctor, laughing: Pusod niya 'yan! (That's her bellybutton!)

It's true, I suppose, that the sense of hearing is the last to go. But I also heard and felt things that my brain translated... differently. 1. People telling me to fight ("Laban, Dat!") It was different people, with varying inflections. I remember Sherwil the most, and I find it funny now that I also felt her stress. I'm not sure she actually said this (she definitely told me to fight hard: "Galingan mo lumaban!"). But I also heard in her voice a tearful, "Dami ko na iniisip, dumagdag pa ito."  My nieces Keona and Kiara telling me to wake up because we had to go back to Crosta Pizzeria and I had promised we would explore Cubao.  My sister Kai telling me she needed my help to fix her CV so I needed to wake up. 2. Nurses checking on me and giving me sponge baths They often checked my temperature using an ear thermometer, usually twisting it several times to get it in the right position. I wondered why they were sticking their long tongues in my ear....

It took me a while to tell anyone this because I was completely unnerved: I saw Kamatayan (the Filipino personification of Death) in the ICU. He just stood there, in the left corner of my room, wearing a black hooded robe and wielding his scythe. I was surprised, and "Ngee!" was the word that my brain came up with. At this point in my hospital stay--after nine days in a coma and major surgery--I was just beginning to understand how close I had come to dying and contemplating how strong my will was to live. I had fought well, I'd been told by doctors and my loved ones, but I remembered nothing of this fight. And now, here was Kamatayan, in the room with me. "Is this for real?" I tried to rationalize. "If this is real, then other beliefs about dying must be real as well, right?"  Beliefs like when one is about to die, family members who had gone ahead would come to get you. But where were Lolo Lino, Daddy, and Uncle Jessie? If I was going, I wanted to be...

Tigers By Eliza Griswol   What are we now but voices  who promise each other a life  neither one can deliver  not for lack of wanting  but wanting won’t make it so.  We cling to a vine at the cliff’s edge.  There are tigers above and below.  Let us love one another and let go.