Make this bad luck end

You think having a caregiver who stole from me was the end of my bad luck?

Today forces almost drive me crazy. Sometimes I wake up at 4 a.m. when you think it’s midnight. I tiptoe to my computer and do a jigsaw puzzle. Jigsaw puzzles make you concentrate. You have to look at the blurred picture on your screen and determine where the piece with the squiggle goes or find the piece that has the squiggle. Who has the time to worry about reality when one is busy matching squiggles?

Suddenly I felt discomfort and got up quickly. I didn’t realize my right foot had gone numb or maybe it was the way someone decided to punish me. I twisted my ankle. It’s a fortunate thing I didn’t fall because I could hold on to a steady table, but it hurt so much.

This happened on the day that one of my best friends, Cesar Concio, Jr., passed away. I found out later in the day when my foot hurt so much I needed a cane to help support me when I walked. Of course I was grateful that I lived in a small flat that didn’t require much walking because I was in genuine pain. Thank God I had Andrei, our most efficient caregiver who takes excellent care of my husband, so I didn’t have much to worry about.

I spent days with my swollen foot under a cold compress staring blankly into space remembering my delightful times with a group of much older men —my boss Totoy Avellana, his best friend Baby Lopa and Cesar Concio, and sometimes Fred Alcuaz. We used to have long lunches full of laughter either at the Hilton Rotisserie or at the Peninsula’s Quimbaya, both restaurants now gone. And the three close friends named are also gone.

Sometimes we had priests among us. Father Jose Cruz, S.J., who was my uncle, my mother’s brother, Father Peeney Unson, another Jesuit, who was my Tito Toti’s (what I called Father Cruz) closest friend and the brother-in-law of one of my mother’s closest friends. Father Toti Olaguer; Father George whose family name I can’t remember; Father Bulatao — so many other Jesuits who were close friends of the group, whose faces flash before my eyes but whose names will take me three days to remember. This whole group of good old friends, all gone now.

They were a group of men and I was the only girl. Many people gossiped about us, trying to figure out which one of them was my boyfriend. None of them. It seemed like I was a man disguised as a woman. They referred to me as “one of the boys.” We just had lots of fun joking and laughing together. And now they are all gone. Cesar lived the longest. He lived to be 91. Now I will never see them again until I finally join them. I feel so sad and so bad.

But my foot is very swollen. Three of my toes have turned partially dark, the gray of bruises. I still walk with pain and a marked limp. On top of this, Andrei develops a strong stomachache. My cleaning lady, Jane, who comes twice a week, helps him take care of my husband. His pain gets worse. I begin to panic remembering the unceasing pain I experienced when I got my appendectomy thousands of years ago. Doctors said I was an inch away from peritonitis or a burst appendix. What if that’s what’s wrong with Andrei?

We both tried to find an immediate substitute for him so he could go to the doctor. We both failed. One of my readers recommended Bahay Matanda but they also couldn’t find anyone. Andrei finally found one but he couldn’t come until the next day. That left Jane and me with a swollen foot to take care of my husband. We didn’t sleep for one whole night. My husband slept intermittently but kept waking up. Jane woke up with him and held his right hand. I kept awake all night holding his left. The miracle was Jane, who is shorter, thinner and much younger than me, could carry my husband from bed to wheelchair. Life suddenly became a living nightmare.

The substitute caregiver, Ronald, appeared the next day. He looked clean and was 48 years old. A sudden relief overwhelmed me. I had to teach him how to handle things, something Andrei did to the substitutes before he got sick. Also, after my terrible experience, I don’t know how this will work out.

Now I really don’t know how I feel. My foot is getting better ever so slowly. It still hurts a lot when I walk. My substitute caregiver is holding up. But my heart bleeds at the passing of one of my dear old friends.

Please, God, I pray, make this bad luck end!

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