It’s 10:34 a.m. Manila time on a Sunday. I moved from the bedroom to the dining area to write. It’s humid, currently 88 degrees Fahrenheit with drizzles expected late in the afternoon. We’re in the midst of typhoon season here so brief bursts of heavy rain, thunder, and lightning are common. I switch on the electric fan to cool off as I write.
Earlier this morning, Grace, my father’s caregiver, informed me that his oxygen tank was running low.
“Baka, po hindi umabot sa madaling araw,” she added. (It might not make it till the early morning hours.)
There are no deliveries on a Sunday and I sent the driver home to his family this weekend. I approached Djoan, my mother’s caregiver, whose relative supplies the oxygen tank for my father. I asked if her uncle could make an exception for a home delivery today given the circumstances.
“Titignan ko po, Ma’am, i-text ko na lang kayo pag may sagot na siya,” she replied. (We’ll see, Ma’am. I will text you once I hear back from him.)
After a few minutes, she emerged from my mother’s room with a smile on her face.
“Ok na po! Pumayag po si Uncle. I-dedeliver mamayang hapon,” she reported. (All set! My uncle will deliver it this afternoon.)
I stood up and gave her a big tight hug.
“Salamat talaga, Djoan. Malaking bagay ang tulong mo. Alam mo naman, hindi ako taga rito kaya na-appreciate ko ito, “ I replied. (Thank you so much, Djoan. This means a lot to me. You know, I’m not from here so I appreciate this.)
She gave me the cost of the oxygen refill and the delivery fee. I agreed on the price and would pay cash once it arrived.
Crisis averted.
Leslie, my parents’ household help, interrupts me.
“Excuse me, Ma’am. Eto na po yung sukli sa pamalengke kanina.” (Here’s the change for today’s shopping at the wet market).
She hands me a five peso coin and a written list of the items she bought: vegetables, saba and lakatan (two varieties of local bananas in the Philippines), apples, mangoes, grapes, bangus (milkfish), salmon belly, tricycle, and taxi (transportation to/from the wet market).
After scanning the list, I thanked her for keeping things within budget. She nodded and returned to the kitchen.
I check the time and it’s almost noon. I remember to inform Grace that the oxygen refill tank will be delivered this afternoon. I knock softly on my father’s room. He is still asleep while Grace is eating an early lunch.
“Kain na po, “ she said as I approached her. (Let’s eat.— It's a polite way of inviting someone to share a meal or to start eating.)
After informing her of the oxygen delivery, I asked about her meal consisting of white rice with pieces of marinated chicken wings. She tells me her niece cooks when she stays with her. Otherwise, she does it herself. Adobo and chop suey are her go-to dishes. I offered the bonete in the fridge, soft bread rolls traditionally from Batangas. Maya, a close family friend, bought them yesterday to share with everyone in the household.
“Help yourself, ha. Pang-merienda kapag gutom ka,” I said. (Help yourself. If you get hungry, you can have it for a snack).
“Opo, salamat po,” she replied with a smile. (Thank you. Opo or po used in Tagalog is a form of respect).
I return to the dining room to resume writing. Suddenly, I hear Grace's voice, singing what seems to be a song of praise. Curious, I rise up from my seat. The door is ajar. She’s indeed belting away as she takes my father’s blood pressure readings and oxygen stats.
Meanwhile, Leslie is busy preparing lunch for my parents. The kitchen is abuzz with clanging plates and utensils. She walks past me and delivers the first tray to my father’s room.
Grace wakes him up. “Sir, kain na po!” (Sir, it’s time to eat.)
He opens his eyes. Grace and Leslie take opposite positions across the bed. They count in unison, 1-2-3, then pull him to a sitting position.
“Thank you, thank you!” my father replied.
My father hates it when someone tries to assist him during meal times. He gets upset thinking someone is confiscating his food. If you even move a cup or nudge a plate, he raises his voice. I believe that mealtimes are the only occasions when he cherishes his agency and asserts his remaining independence.
We let him be.
I sat across the tray table and kept him company. Oftentimes, he would confuse me for my older sister. I lean close to his face to ensure I introduce myself.
It occurred to me while he was eating sweetened saba that he also enjoys ube ice cream. I came up to his right ear and asked if he wanted some. He nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. In the kitchen, I scooped a few spoonfuls into a small white bowl and tucked a teaspoon underneath the purple mound. He lit up once I placed it on his tray.
Leslie knocked and informed me that my lunch was ready. I excused myself and Dad flashed a thumbs-up. “Thank you, thank you,” he said.
After finishing a plateful of leftover veg Kare-kare (my favorite Filipino dish) over rice and two slices of papaya for dessert, my siblings and I texted back and forth via Viber updating them on Mom’s care. Once done, I peeked into Mom’s room and she was on the phone chatting with one of her friends. She hasn’t eaten her lunch either. I let her be and will check in with her mid-afternoon.
I then returned to the air-conditioned room to cool myself. Finally, some peace and quiet. Hopefully, next week I’ll have more time to reflect deeper and share my thoughts with you.
See you all next Sunday!
My dear readers, my apologies for the delay in sending this Sunday’s newsletter. It’s probably Monday in some parts of the world already. This afternoon I sat with my mother and realized after I had gone back to my room that I didn’t press publish. Oops!
Stella, this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read on Substack. Such a luminous slice of life. The simple domestic details tell so much. It’s an honor to share part of your day as you care for your parents and to meet the others who are helping you do so. Peace and strength to you all.
My Filipino friends will love this.