Safari

 Is there a safari nearby?” Lulu teasingly asked me as antique aparadors, chairs and tables were being carried by guards and houseboys down the hill. Glancing upward after that comment I saw my staff’s black outline against an orange backdrop. What a beautiful photograph it would make of the slopes of Baguio.

Ed called out, “Dahan-dahan, maputik, it’s muddy over there, watch your step… You’ll slide downwards.” One leg fell off of a chair. Just chasing it down the hill was a funny sight as Ponso fell over the rocks that comprised my path. “I’ll carry the red table. I can handle that small block of wood,” I said.

Down the hill, up the hill — down, up. Willy’s probably thinking, “When will she ever stop?” And Johnny, the driver who’s sweating profusely, just said “Good thing I’m doing this before my bath.”

Another scene flashes from the past: “Put the piano here, no, the rug under it first… Change that chair from the left to the right, please…” as the painters flash color cards.

That scene occurs continuously in my home and in your homes, too. Right or wrong? Us women like to move about furniture, flower vases, picture frames, throw pillows — to give our houses a new look without necessarily having to spend. If I could help speed up a job by carrying a chair, I would. Even carry one side of a table to align it properly in the middle of my dining room. Wouldn’t you? But I ended up, little by little, suffering from neck pain. The doctor, after seeing my x-ray, was astounded. Dr. Shure of Stanford University Hospital said to me, “Mrs. Cojuangco, your problem is what truck drivers suffer from, from carrying heavy items. I don’t understand why you have the same problem as they do.” Do you ever carry heavy equipment or furniture? Have you ever carried a refrigerator? I’ve carried very heavy household items — not all alone, of course — to help those who have helped me. If I can do it, they, too, should be able to as well. You know: it’s called leading by example.

I never regretted assisting my driver or househelp girls but in the long run, physically and medically speaking, it caused a lot of harm to my spine — C2 to C6, to be precise. Twice a week doctors came to the house and the office to inject steroids into my back. First, there were two injections, then three, until I was the recipient of 11 injections. At one time,  still on my back from Dr. Resty de Ocampo, I became a true champion of pain; I needed to be relieved from heavy political pitches… and being a victim.

It didn’t help that I was visiting three barangays a day; I got pretty battered from riding around in vehicles. The culprit was the 1960s obligations of being a congressman’s wife and onward to governorship. I liked what I was doing — people contact, reaching out, livelihood and health — but for everything we do, there are consequences — and risks.

“Ouch,” I moaned as Yaya scampered to get me my neck brace that had taken the place of a stylish necklace. Dr. David Cabatan put me on a physical therapy regimen. That’s when I realized health is wealth. No use wearing earring or necklaces; they just didn’t go with foam and Velcro. I really preferred the soothing neck brace to a white-gold diamond necklace.

I started to delegate instead. The round antique table for Tony to carry and my mattress for Greg to lift. One sure remedy was a piece of plywood under an old mattress and sleeping straight up — which, by the way, does not cause a double chin nor a crease on the cheeks near the naso-labial area (also called Marionette crease). But wouldn’t that cause one to snore? That was a pitfall! So I hugged a little pillow above my nose. I would nearly suffocate, but I didn’t want early-morning jibes and confrontations about the previous night’s noise I may have caused. While we’re on the subject of pillows, I’d like to advocate baby pillows: those small, cuddly-soft, inexpensive and huggable pillows. I have three I bought at a nursery stores. I put one on my left side, another on my right and another, as usual, to hug under my chin. The two prevent me from turning too much to the right or left and the third is merely to hug: security and comfort.

For those out there who wake up in tears from neck or back pain, here’s another tip: get a new mattress for sleep comfort and sleep quality. Mikee gave me one for Christmas and it’s super. It’s called a Memory Foam Mattress and it’s a great stabilizer after my surgery back in 2000 — eight (or was it 10?) screws placed in my neck. I faced three surgical scenarios, Dr. Shure informed me: first, the operation could result in total paralysis; second, it could be a success; third, the operation wouldn’t help at all. I dared to live and, with the power of prayer, I now live in comfort.

I’m told I was strapped to the operating table, turned over and my hair was cut off up to the nape. I now have just a little scar on the nape to remind me.

When I woke up the next day after surgery the physical therapist was with me and had me stretch both arms outward and move them in a full circle. Lifting both arms, the pain must have been excruciating; I quickly fainted and was only jolted to conscious by my family and the therapist who were shouting my name!

I’m not lazily lying on a couch now like Cleopatra, saying, “Put that stool there in the dining room, not the den… The frame goes in my computer room, please, not the master bedroom…” I’m still trying to stop myself from persisting in my old habit: rearranging furniture and stepping in to assist with the slightest lift. But when I do, it bogs me down instantaneously. I’m stubborn enough not to remain on a lounging chair like old Cleo; I don’t mind being fed the grapes for Marc Antony’s woman and Julius Caesar’s wife while I command, but the guards secretly ate them, hungry from lifting the door, loading rugs in the car and driving them from Manila to Valle Verde.

I stand back and view my wood and cement and Moro-sequined surroundings sparkling with Indian material. I like what I see for now and I have a great mattress. I should take fewer painkillers. I won’t feel guilty when I ask the men at home for a helping hand. They must understand I’m the weaker sex. I’m not going to overload my bag with perfume bottles, just smaller ones. I won’t carry heavy handbags on my shoulder. I won’t fill the Vuitton to maximum capacity; they carry a lot of stuff, but they’re so heavy. I’ll use Tina Ocampo’s Alligator bag instead, or a Kate Spade.

Should I still inquire about some new invention like a bone from a dinosaur to implant in a neck or an outpatient procedure after a bone marrow growth injection? No, not anymore.

I’ll stick to my old motto: When you want to change your life, rearrange your furniture. But here’s a new caveat: No more heavy lifting.

Well, maybe just a new necklace.