Netnet Camomot
MY sis asked me to set an appointment with the suki hairstylist and manicurista for 10 am yesterday. At 8 am, I called her, “Ikaw una kay magsulat pa ko.” Her reply, “Ha?” Well, she forgot. That’s the perks of reaching a certain age—you tend to forget a lot of things. And forgive, too. Let go, move on, move forward.
Today is the day. After spending two months mostly inside my room, I’m finally saying goodbye to the life of a hermit. I can go out! Without crutches! My orthopedic surgeon Dr. Jac Pimentel said, Walk, rest, walk, rest… I tried that on Monday night but with one additional word: Walk, rest, eat, walk, rest, eat… Friends were here and we laughed and ate away the night again, with pizza, pasta, peanuts, durian, marang, Coke Zero, and this banana loaf from S&R. Yes, throw in diet soda to lessen the guilt bursting out of gluttony.
This knee went through three hospitals since last January: Cagayan de Oro Medical Center (COMC), Maria Reyna-Xavier University Hospital, and Capitol University Medical Center (CUMC).
It was at COMC where I went through the first steps of healing the knee with Dr. Leonard Khu. Last June, there was rehab at Maria Reyna with Dr. Grace Cid who referred me to Dr. Jac Pimentel for the arthroscopy. Then last July 6, it was arthroscopy at CUMC with Doc Jac, assisted by Nerd Khu, with anesthesiologist Dr. Ferdie Miranda whom I harassed right before surgery with, Bantay ka lang ma-feel nako ang pagtusok sa anesthesia, kay sipaon gyud nako ka paghuman sa surgery. Hehe. But I conked out, thanks to some IV injection, right before the anesthesia process could take place.
I had never been high before. Right in the middle of surgery, somehow I woke up, and I think it was Doc Ferdie who said, Net, tan-awa o. He lifted the veil that was keeping me from seeing what was going on down there, and there was this surgical-masked guy saying, Net… And I was like, Nerd!
Talk of pleasant surprises. I didn’t know he would be there, too. Doc Jac apologized later for not informing me that Nerd would be assisting. It was a last-minute thing. It’s okay, Doc. Nerd was the founder of our Wednesday Club. That should explain why it’s okay. Hehe.
Nerd was the one who did the hip replacement surgery for Mama years ago and he told me then Doc Jac would be there, too. I had no idea that he’s the son of former Senate President Nene Pimentel. I think it was only when Doc Grace was trying to remember his full name that I realized, Oh, he’s an Aquilino, too. Clueless me. She eventually wrote “Jac” on her prescription pad. Dr. Franco dela Cerna, from whom I got clearance for the surgery, also tried to remember the full name and ended up writing “Jac” on the prescription pad. Their clinics are neighbors at COMC. All I had to do was walk a few steps across and—voila!—there’s Doc Franco’s clinic.
This was my first surgery since birth, and I realized the operating room is a happy place. The nurses were talking a lot, probably to help me relax. I was lying down, with my arms stretched out like they’re about to crucify me. There’s medical equipment all around, and I think it was the resident who pointed out to me the arthroscopy machine. If only I could reach out to it with my right hand, pat its back, and say, Please be gentle.
Post-surgery at the recovery room, I’d open my eyes, and there was my sis-in-law Susan, who’s a doctor, telling me, Net, si Popette ni, I talked with Doc Jac, your surgery went well! I thought, no need to introduce yourself! I could see you! You’re Popette! But all I could say was, Hi, Sis.
The next time I opened my eyes, there was my bro Antit saying, Net, si Antit ni! My thoughts: Why is everyone introducing him/herself? I could see them!
A post-surgery patient is not allowed to move for several hours. Lie flat on your back or else, nausea. It’s good at first while the anesthesia is still flowing through your veins. But once you’ve been transferred to your room and the anesthesia’s psychedelic effects are waning, lying flat on your back requires happy thoughts to help you forget you’re lying flat on your back. You begin counting the seconds and minutes until you can finally move freely. Well, at least move a little.
I don’t like hospitals—too many sad memories there. But it’s the place where medical healing happens. It’s good when there are people like CUMC’s owner Linda Deleste to reserve a suite room for you. My initial reaction: Suite room? Well, when it’s the owner mismo advising you to stay in the suite room, you say, Thank you. Hehe.
Lito and Virgie Legaspi were the ones who helped Linda and me with the other details of my hospital stay.
Obviously, it also takes a village to heal a knee.
This is the beginning of the knee’s next phase of healing. Yes, it’s a process. There’s Step 1, Step 2, Step 3… I and Roger Federer are going through the same knee challenge. Ahem.
There’s always a reason for everything. I guess mine is this: I need to rest after such a busy year that had me ignoring health risks. Health should always be priority. But once you have accepted a set of responsibilities and committed to accomplish them, the adrenaline rush brings you from one project to another. There was the grimace on the face when you had to stand up after sitting for long, and during the first steps before trying not to limp your way to the next destination. You tried to hide that pain for six months since last January.
It was only last June, after turning over my responsibilities to the next president, that I resumed taking care of the knee.
Thanks so much from the bottomless pit of my heart to Doctors Jac Pimentel, Leonard Khu, Grace Cid, Ferdie Miranda, CUMC’s Emergency Room, Operating Room and Station 4 doctors and nurses, and admin staff, Linda Deleste, Lito and Virgie Legaspi for ensuring the knee gets the best treatment, and to family and friends—you know who you are—for keeping me company.
