First Gen Asian-American – Page 4 – Apron Strings for Emily

08 June 2009

The Zen of Yin and Yang

Anybody that has ever met me knows that I have two left feet.

Okay … so the Filipina in me can, at the very least, dance to a beat. But put me in a pair of heels (or heck, even flat shoes give me problems), and I can’t even walk a straight line without tripping.

I can even fall down while laying in bed. Seriously. Okay, so that part was really caused by Hubby turning over and taking all the blankets that I was lying on top of … but nonetheless, it was ME that fell on the floor.

290 The other day, as Hubby and I strolled the streets of the Magnificent Mile, I contemplated how throughout my life I’ve always been at one extreme or the other. I’ve thought about how I’ve either been extremely happy or in the throws of despair. Or I’ve either totally loved my job or completely hated it to the point of quitting. Or I’ve felt completely optimistic about IVF to being downright pessimistic about my infertility.

And then I tripped. (D*mn Crocs on uneven pavement …)

After being caught by Hubby and subsequently asked how my “trip” was … I thought about the irony of my last “fall.” Tripping when contemplating how unbalanced my life is.

So after I regained my footing, I began to contemplate whether my life has always been unbalanced. Much like I’ve always had two left feet. Had I always seen things so black and white? Did I always approach life in a yin and yang type of manner?

291 Hubby seems to think I do not. That I tend to see things in this manner only when there is some sort of major disruption in my life. Whether it’s IVF / Infertility or work-related issues … or even any “fun” situations like moving to Chicago or traveling to different places … it seems that I try to garner control of things by seeing them as “relative” yes or no situations. Right. Or wrong.

And looking back at any “interesting” moments in life, I realize that Hubby is absolutely right. The times in my life where I’ve had no control over any situation are the times that I felt most “unbalanced. Unfortunately, it’s also those type of situations that I always tend to focus on rather than the “uneventful” peaceful times in my life.

Why think about those lazy Sunday afternoons where Hubby and I sit at the local cafe and read, drink coffee and otherwise relax? Not when I can spend the time obsessing over whether or not I’m doing a good enough job in my new boss’s eyes. Why get excited over our recent move to the Windy City and all the new places we get to explore this summer when I can worry about whether I made the right decision to move? Why think about how d*mn unfair it is that other women can get pregnant at the drop of a hat when I can think about how much of an impact I may (or may not) have made on my nephew’s life?

292 So after that last literal trip, I decided that I should focus on the wonderful aspect of every day life. And that I shouldn’t take for granted something as simple as Hubby catching my arm as I trip over my two left feet. Because it’s those little things … those every day wonderful thoughtful things that provide the balance that I need in those otherwise chaotic, uncontrollable moments in life.

28 May 2009

Forty-plus Days

In the Catholic-Filipino tradition, a 9-day novena is held immediately after the death of a loved one. On the 40th day, a mass is held in commemoration of this loved one as it is believed that this is the day they’ve ascended into the heavens. It’s also the day where the act of “mourning” (wearing black, for example) officially concludes. It’s supposed to be the time where a person is supposed to outwardly “show” that they’ve began to “move on” with everyday life.

289 — Yet another "borrowed" picture from another cousin

Except … anyone that has ever mourned the loss a love one (or heck, even the loss of anything in life — like the ability to have children, for instance) knows that grief doesn’t last for a set moment in time. Life doesn’t just miraculously get better after 40 days, several months or even years. If anything, grief is a process that must be worked through completely before a person can successfully move on.

Sometime last week was the 40th day anniversary of my Grandma Rose‘s passing. In all honestly, the date escaped me. It wasn’t until I saw pictures of a celebration at my Uncle’s house on my cousin‘s Facebook page that I remembered. And if the rest of my Mom’s family in the U.S. didn’t live on the East Coast, I might have been there celebrating with them. Instead, I celebrated with them in spirit; once again reflecting back on the incredible life my 99-year old Grandmother.

This past Monday, on Memorial Day of all days, I happened to get the first part of an incredible gift in my email inbox. This same cousin, who posted pictures of the 40th day celebration, sent me … along with the rest of my cousins and Aunts/Uncles in her email address book … a scanned copy of a notebook written by Grandma Rose.

290 About 32 pages in length and written about twenty years ago, this handwritten notebook told the most basic lifestory of my grandmother in her own words. She had left it to my cousin, who took it upon herself to scan in each page and send it to all of us.

It was absolutely wonderful to read these pages and physically see it my Grandma’s own handwriting. Many of the accounts she documented were stories that I can remember her telling me. Other stories were ones that were passed down to me from my own Mom. But reading them now … well, they brought back such warm memories of listening to my Grandma Rose tell these stories and being fascinated on how life in the Philippines was so different than my own.

For years, we had told Grandma that she should write all these stories down … that she had lived such an interesting life. While many of these stories never made it into writing, I still feel incredibly blessed that Grandma left her own legacy behind and in her own words.

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Last night, after I finished reading these pages I, once again, felt this incredible closeness with my Grandma Rose. It felt as if she was right there next to me, telling me these stories like she did when I was little. It felt as if I could put my arms around her and hug her, while she read aloud to me what she wrote.

And just like that, the tears sprung up again. Because then I realized how much I missed her and still miss her. Even after these 40-plus days.

***

And because the number 40 always reminds me of this song … I have to pay homage to one of my favorite bands of all time. I have this vivid memory of being home sick one day in high school and watching “Live at Red Rocks: Under a Blood Red Sky” … so it’s this clip I had to post.

For those that don’t know, this song is based on the Bible’s Psalm 40. Which … given how spiritual my Grandma Rose was … is incredibly appropriate. Enjoy.

24 May 2009

Keepsakes and Legacies

Years ago, I had a conversation with a co-worker about keepsakes. And when I mean keepsakes, I mean personal items that an individual wishes to pass on to a family member or friend that would appreciate the sentiment behind such a gift. It could be anything from a simple chotski to artwork, or even large pieces of furniture.

This co-worker told me the story about a bedroom set that belonged to her grandmother, which was also passed down from her grandmother from the mid 1800’s. It was a beautiful set, she told me. Very simple, yet classic. It was also something that her grandmother passed down to her, as her grandmother knew that she loved the set.

So then this co-worker asked if I ever had anything “passed down” to me from the previous generations. I admit, I had to think about it for a second. The nurse in me thought … “Duh, yeah. My big butt for instance. And my nose. And the shape of my head.” But then I realized, those were physical genetic traits that were passed down to me from my parents and their parents, etc.

The short answer to the question my co-worker asked me was no. Yes, there have been clothes passed on or an occasional headboard or shelf or table. But those were more for utilitarian purposes. Actual “keepsakes” or “antiques” (if that’s what you wish to call it … )? No. Not really.

Not having any real “keepsakes” from other family members isn’t because I come from a family that doesn’t “believe” in passing things down to the next generation. For me, I believe it’s more or less because I am a first generation Asian/Filipino-American.

Both my Mom and my Dad were born and raised in the Philippines; coming to this side of the hemisphere (separately, and not knowing each other at the time) once they were done with their studies. As they were both young, neither of them traveled with more than what they needed to live in what would be their new “home.” With that said, when they eventually met and married … there was little for them to combine once they moved to Detroit and settled into daily living. In fact, much of what they bought for their new home, again was utilitarian more than something of significant value or sentiment.

And perhaps because it’s something that women often think about, my Mom and I have had random conversations in the past about what she wants to pass on to her children. While, she has already passed on her love of books and art (along with her knowledge in science) to both my brother and me, there is one thing she’s told me is that she’s always wanted to pass on to us. And that would be those special stones or rings or necklaces/earrings that my Dad has given to her over the years; those sentimental “jewelry” pieces that she still keeps. Because, as she herself said, there isn’t much other than her jewelry that she feels she can “leave behind” for her children. Or her grandchildren.

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While cleaning out his side of our dresser last week, Hubby stumbled on a jewelry box. And inside this jewelry box were two rings made of Chinese gold. Other than size, these rings were identical and, if pressed into hot wax, would produce a heart-shaped “embroidered” Chinese floral pattern.

Hubby holds these rings dear to him … not because they’re made of Chinese gold and represent his half-Filipino/half-Chinese heritage. And not because they were simply a gift from his parents.

Rather these rings were something that Hubby wore when he was just a child. The first ring was given to him when he was just a baby; most likely to celebrate his birth. And the second ring … that one was given to him before his parents (who met and married in the Philippines) left to prepare a home for him and his sister in the U.S.

Both rings remind him of his youth; of his time back in the Philippines. And anyone that knows Hubby, he has always had a hard time with memories. So for him to reflect back at what little he remembers from his early years in the Philippines … well, that’s just something to treasure.

286 When Hubby found the jewelry box that held these rings this past Sunday, I couldn’t help but feel sad. After all these were rings that I know Hubby hoped to pass down to his own children. Those same children that would be his legacy. The children that would pass on all of his heritages; his Chinese, Filipino and American backgrounds. The children that would make up half of his genetic traits (perhaps a future comic book artist?). Those same children who would pass on his name.

As I looked up at Hubby, I knew he was thinking the same thing. And all I could say to him was “Sorry.” Yet, (and I must add, I know this is illogical … ) somehow that just never seem to be enough.

Because honestly … not only do I feel as if I’ve deprived him of the ability to be a wonderful father, I feel as if I’ve “robbed” him of the ability to pass on his traits, his skills … his legacy.

06 May 2009

Goin' With The Flo

I made the mistake of heading into the Hallmark store in my office complex yesterday. What part of me thought that taking that little detour on my lunch break during this time of year was a good idea? Yeah, silly me.

Lucky for me, every year Mother’s Day happens to be only a “day” in the midst of another important week of the year. Well, at least for those that happen to be “tight” with Florence Nightingale, anyway.

Yes, every year Nurse’s Week is celebrated in the US from May 6th to May 12th. Why those days specifically? Well, it’s because May 12th is the actual birthday of the “Pioneer of Modern Nursing.” And May 12th is officially known as International Nurses Day.

So yeah, having a whole week “dedicated” to my profession … it certainly takes the focus of the one day of the year that practically the whole nation celebrates the one thing in the world that has eluded me the most. The one day that celebrates the biggest disappointment I’ve encountered thus far in my life.

But going back to the whole Nurse’s Week thingy … I have to say that I find it pretty humerous that I ended up in the profession I did … and “liking” it.

Click on image to read the pledge and Detroit's history in it ...

First of all, there are waaaay too many Filipinos in this profession. And in my youth, I was constantly trying to break out of the stereotypes that follow my culture. But ultimately it was the whole “respect your elders” part of my culture that had me ending up pursing a career in nursing. In other words, rather than spend my undergrad years “pondering” what I wanted to do in life while my parents (most graciously) funded my university education … the suggestion was made by many-a-relative that nursing would provide me a lucrative* career while I figured out what I really wanted to do with my life. Lucky (or unlucky, depending how it’s looked at) for me, while I still don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life (as motherhood obviously hasn’t worked out) … at least there are enough “avenues” in the profession of Nursing that I’ve been able to dabble in other areas other than bedside nursing.

I do have to add this though … no matter where I’ve worked (in an office setting or at the bedside), I am constantly being asked when I’ll be bringing in pancit or lumpia to any potluck. Totally sucks for my co-workers who have the perception that all Filipinos are able to cook. Hah!

And speaking of different “avenues” of Nursing … I have to point out that this is probably the reason I do “like” the profession I’m in. Because believe me, in this modern day and age of health care … burnout in the “bedside” aspect of Nursing is pretty darn high. That’s because despite the advances in medical care, people that are admitted to the hospital are much much more “sicker” than they were in the past. And despite the higher acuity in patient care needs, the nurse-to-patient ratio has not improved in years. In fact, in many parts of the nation, the number of patients assigned to one nurse has exponentially increased; leaving Nurses at the bedside with more to do with less resources.

My Nursing School's reknown "Nightingale Award" (click on image)

This is why I am glad I’m no longer doing “direct patient care.” This simply means that I’m not physically reaching out and touching a person. (Not to say that I’m not “caring” for them, though.) Rather the aspect of Nursing I’m part of is Case Management. So what’s the role of an RN Case Manager? Well, in a basic explanation, a Case Manager assists in coordinating the care of a clinically complex person in order to maximize this person’s ability to care for themselves.

Confusing, right? Well, let’s just say that instead of physically caring for a patient while he/she — I don’t know — is “tossing their cookies” … I’m the Nurse that, once the acute illness “settles down,” is helping to make sure that these patients follow up appropriately with their physicians or other health care professionals in order to prevent a recurrence or complication of their condition. And I’m the same Nurse that spends MORE time educating a patient and/or family member about their disease or condition so they can understand their physician’s plan of care and the various options they may have available to them.

Florence "The Lady With The Lamp" Nightingale — "The Lady With The Lamp"

Yeah, I bet you didn’t know that there were many aspects of Nursing as a profession. Just like I’m sure that you may forget about other jobs that Nurses do that don’t necessarily involve working in a hospital, nursing home or Doctor’s office. Yes. Nursing is everywhere. Like in the home setting. Or in the community. Or even at your own workplace.

Heck, you might even work directly with a Nurse. Or even an “ex-Nurse.”** Because believe me, we’re everywhere.

So with that said … I must remind everyone out there to wish all the Nurses you know a “Happy Nurses Week” over the next seven days. Because despite what it feels like to most Infertiles out there … this week isn’t all about being a Mom. Sometimes it’s all about going with the “Flo” … Florence Nightingale, that is.

Yeah. I’m that cheesy.

On an even sillier note … I must share this picture with you to show how “smart” my kitty cat can be. Notice how she’s perched on a pillow? Well … as she knows she’s not allowed on our new sofa, she’s found a way to get around it … by being on top of a pillow instead of directly on the sofa. How cute can she be?!

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* “Lucrative” as in “there are always going to jobs available in nursing” … not “lucrative” as in financially “stable.”

** Although I always say, “Once a Nurse, always a Nurse.”

27 March 2009

Lola

Lola, in Tagalog (the primary language in the Philippines), means Grandmother. Except being the Filipino-American that I am, I never called her that. I always called her Grandma.

Grandma, besides my parents and my brother, is the first person I can remember constantly being around me when I was a toddler. I have this image of her sleeping in my bedroom on my other twin bed next to me in my room. And I remember this purple-y floral embroidered luggage bag that she always had; and she constantly wore purple …. as it’s always been her favorite color.

Grandma turned 99 this February. And other than her vision and hearing, and the occasional memory lapses, she’s as sharp as a tack. Well, I should really say that those memory lapses have become more frequent … but geesh, at her age that’s still frickin’ amazing. The point being is that she can still recognize all her own children and her dozens of grandchildren scattered throughout the world.

The reason I’m bringing Grandma up right now is because she needs all the good prayers and positive vibes right now. I’ve just been told that she was admitted to the hospital in the Philippines on Wednesday night … and things aren’t looking too good.

My mom and all her siblings that live scattered throughout the U.S. are desperately trying to find a flight “back home.” Because they’re trying to travel to the Philippines together, they’re having a difficult time coordinating flights. That, and well the tickets are monstrously expensive.

I wish I could be there; be by my Grandma’s side to hold her hand. Be with my aunts and uncles and cousins to hug them and to be hugged by them. Mostly, I want to be with my Mom, who called me this morning in tears. Because my Mom, who is named after my Grandma, is feeling so lonely right now. Wanting desperately to catch the first flight out that she can. And yet, this morning … told me she’s not had the energy even to pack, because she’s just been waiting by the phone for any word of when she’ll be able to get her flight. And well … any other news of my Grandma as well.

My "Lola" and Mom, who was named after her, on my wedding day ...

It’s times like this that I wish I was closer to home. That I didn’t have such a new job with little to no time off to take. It’s times like this I truly miss my family.

Please please please … if anyone has it “good” with the Man Upstairs, please send a prayer or a thought up to him to look over my family, my Mom … and most of all, my Lola.