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Friday, January 16, 2004
Sayson: Greater courage
By Homer Sayson
Second overtime
CHICAGO – Sports define athletes according to how they rise or fall in the face of adversity. Michael Jordan, for instance, stamped his greatness by turning from mortal to immortal each time the playoffs beckon. Muhammad Ali climbed out of so many holes we stopped counting when he beat Joe Frazier in 1975.
It’s no different outside the arbitrary field of combat. We are judged by how we respond to challenges. Adversity mirrors our impulses. They are faithful barometers of our character.
My daughter Faith had such a test recently. But the stakes were much higher, and the margin for error was smaller than an inch. Faith wasn’t fighting for a trophy or trying to pocket some praise. She fought for her life. And like she had so many times before, she won.
Her journey began last Jan.6 when she was rushed to Chong Hua Hospital for pneumonia. A day later, she almost died. One of her lungs failed, her pulse sank to dangerous lows and she had become pale as a ghost.
As doctors Sharon Uy, Shara Maglasang and Beverly Gabiana frantically rescued my baby’s frail body from the clutches of death, Faith showed courage in its rawest form. Poked by needles everywhere and hooked to various devices, she ignored all the discomfort, placidly lying in bed, her eyes as blank as a mask.
But God knows how painful it must have been. As a father, I have never felt so powerless, so helpless and so useless.
Life is a bitch.
I feel sorry for my mom, Erlinda. She had to live through her granddaughter’s gut-wrenching life and death episode. If I were there, the cardiac unit would have been my last stop.
Faith was discharged two days ago. It wasn’t until then when tears the size of marbles began to trickle down her cheeks. Faith had never once complained about her life-long ordeal, but this time maybe she just wanted to know: “What have I done to deserve this”?
I wish I could tell her why, but I can’t. I only know that life isn’t fair and that the mystery of God’s ways can sometimes be very frustrating.
My dear Faith turned seven-years-old yesterday. The balloons that commemorated her birthday still float in the air today. To those of us who love her, the balloons represent our hopes – impossibly high now, yet heartbreakingly low later.
Our family knows sorrow like it knows joy. But that doesn’t mean we are okay. We will be hurting for a long, long time. For every shallow breath Faith takes, a part of us dies.
Kobe Bryant has a sprained right shoulder. Karl Malone ails from a sore knee, while Shaq is out with a bad calf. If those guys would try eating through a tube in their nose even just for a day maybe I’ll sympathize.
The Lakers, the boys in purple and gold, used to be my heroes. Not anymore. I now look up to those compassionate souls wearing long, white medical gowns. They save so many lives, yet you don’t hear stadiums erupt into cheers.
Pediatric surgeon Don Garcia examines an X-ray the way Tiger Woods reads the 18th green. His expert opinion spared my daughter from the agony of having a pipe invade her lungs.
Pediatric neurologist Victoria Bael, Faith’s main doctor the last three years, is an angel with a stethoscope. She didn’t weave a miracle, but she did so remarkably well in comforting Faith and calming my fears.
Dr. Bael is forever kind. She is as warm as the sunrise, and her patience is as long as the Amazon river. In a medical field tainted by crass commercialism, she truly is an endangered species.
Dr. Bael has restored the smile to my daughter’s face. Each time that happens, my life, no matter how awful, is still worth living for.
P.S. Cebu City Councilor Arsenio Pacaña took time to visit Faith in her sickbed. His kindness never ceases to amaze me...I’m also grateful to Lorna Faelnar, the wife of City Councilor Jing-Jing Faelnar for her support...Thanks, too, to the nurses at Chong Hua Hospital, especially Alvin and Rowena at the pediatric wing, for their dedication to work...Lastly, a million thanks to my dad, Tursay, and mom, Erlinda. We often take our parents for granted, but when we are at our lowest, only they can carry us.
(homsay@hotmail.com)
(January 16, 2004 issue)
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