Girl With The Phoenix Tattoo

Well, hello there! It's definitely been a minute, hasn't it? This is my first entry for 2025, and let's just say life has been… eventful since the ball dropped. I actually had a brilliant blog idea brewing back in January, something really insightful to kick off the year. But, as often happens, life got in the way, and that idea never quite made it to the page.

When December rolled around, marking the anniversary of my heart attack. It still feels surreal that I'm here, still kicking ass despite all my body's little quirks. Fast forward to almost February, and surprise! Another heart event decided to make an appearance. But, a mild one this time, triggered by something completely unexpected: excessive bleeding.

Let me backtrack a bit. I had my usual period in January, but it was unusually heavy and lasted a full eleven days. My gut told me it was probably perimenopause doing its thing. I even chatted with my sister-in-law, Anne, about it, and she suggested a visit to an OB-GYN. I said I would, planning to wait until my period finished. Of course, life being life, I pushed it to the back of my mind. Then, just two weeks later, the heavy bleeding started again.

Then came the morning of January 28th. I was just starting my morning shift when those familiar chest pains crept in. Mind you, I hadn't done anything to trigger them. Just calmly going about my work. I popped a nitroglycerin tablet, which I call my "Chill Pill", but the pain lingered, and that familiar "ngalay" feeling crept into my left arm. I remembered Doc Beaver's instructions: if the pain doesn't subside after the first tablet, take another, and if it's still there after five minutes, head straight to the ER. I had an appointment with Dra. Gueco later that morning and found myself wondering whether I should go to the ER already. My usual hesitation kicked in.

I went to Medical City for my appointment. But as I waited for my turn at Gueco's clinic, the shortness of breath returned, along with the persistent pain and that odd sensation in my arm. I got scared. I called my brother, Drew, my voice probably shaky as I told him what was happening. I was pretty sure another heart attack was looming. He urged me to go to the ER immediately. My brain, ever practical (and perhaps a little stubborn), immediately started calculating the expenses. I hesitated. Again.

Eventually, I saw Dra. Gueco, and even she insisted I go to the ER. So, I made my way there. Panic started to set in again, making it hard to breathe. Initially, the diagnosis wasn't clear. But thankfully, Doc Beaver ordered morphine for the pain. As I settled into the ER, my breathing returned to normal. The pain eased a bit, but they still administered the morphine, which definitely helped. They wanted to admit me, and naturally, I wasn't thrilled. I was unprepared, and poor Snicker was home alone. But given it was another heart issue, admission was necessary. I just hoped it would be a quick overnight stay. Aside from my furry companion being left alone, the mounting medical bills were, as always, a major concern, even with my seemingly useless HMO. It's useless when all your ailments are pre-exisitng conditions.

Finally, we spoke with Doc Beaver again. Initially, he thought the mild heart attack was due to further stress on my arteries. But when I mentioned the heavy bleeding, a lightbulb seemed to go off. That was it! The excessive blood loss had caused my hemoglobin levels to plummet, meaning not enough oxygen-carrying blood was reaching my heart, hence the attack.

He promptly referred me to an OB-GYN, Dr. Rivera, who seems really cool. Long story short, everything looks okay reproductively. The bleeding is indeed a symptom of perimenopause. However, given my heart issues, losing that much blood is no longer an option. Her recommendation? To induce a temporary menopause through monthly hormone blocker shots for six months.

That overnight stay I was hoping for ended up being four days. Mind you, I was still working via my tablet, 'cause I knew I was going to need funds. The stay was a bit stressful, thinking of how Snicker was doing at home and through all of the "arguments" that I was having with Drew. Thankfully, my heart wasn't stressed any further while I was there. I did need a transfusion, though. Ended up getting one unit, but took three hours just to find a damn vein. My veins were collapsing. It took 5 people taking turns to insert that damn needle. Oh, the bruising i had the following days. But, it helped with raising my hemoglobin levels.

Here's the sad part... With everything that happened last year, I had already come to the somewhat painful conclusion that having children wasn't in the cards for me. My system, with its damaged kidneys and heart, simply couldn't handle it. Honestly, pregnancy would likely be fatal. But this new development has really cemented that reality, and it's brought with it a wave of sadness.

What stung even more was Drew's reaction. He couldn't believe that I still harbored the desire to have children at my age. Isn't it ingrained in us from childhood, this dream of marriage and babies? Well, for me, that dream has been definitively shattered. And to have my own brother express such disbelief felt like a punch to the gut, like I had somehow failed as a woman. It's actually hard to articulate the feeling – a mix of hurt and deep sadness. A small part of me had still held onto the hope of finding someone, settling down, and maybe even having a child later in life. With all the advancements in technology, it didn't seem entirely impossible. I always dreamed of having a boy. But that's definitely not happening now.

I know, logically, that my inability to have children shouldn't define my womanhood. There are countless women who can't have children for various reasons. But receiving that final confirmation, that door closing completely, it hurt. It's a similar feeling to when I found out the eye surgeries wouldn't restore my vision, and I lost my right eyesight completely – that profound sense of loss. I guess I'm fated to be that spinster dog lady. Far from what I wanted to be.

I'm currently on my fourth hormone blocker shot, with two more to go. The bleeding has stopped, thankfully, but the joys of perimenopause are still very much present. The hot flashes are particularly brutal in this Manila heat. And the shots themselves come with their own delightful side effects: headaches, joint pain, fatigue, and lethargy. Not to mention, they've also caused my blood sugar to spike, which isn't exactly helping my angina. Fun... Not!

Ugh… the things we women have to go through! Add that to everything else I'm dealing with, and sometimes I marvel at the fact that I'm still (mostly) sane. To be honest, I'm tired, especially financially. I work a job that doesn't exactly support my health, but I have to keep going because it pays the bills, and these medical expenses are no joke. I'm sad that my activities are limited because of the stress it puts on my heart. I miss Muay Thai, I can't go work out at the gym, I can't dance as long, I can't walk as far, and as fast. I feel like an old lady! Worst of all, I can't eat certain foods and I'm feeling really, REALLY fat! Somehow, I still manage to find little ways to inject some joy into this bleakness, usually in the form of a new toy.

We've all heard the classic Filipino superstition, "Pag makati ang palad, may padating na pera!" or the familiar gesture of knocking on wood to ward off something from coming true. These superstitions, or pamahiin, have been passed down through generations, shaping our beliefs and behaviors. But, do people still believe in these, especially people from the newer generations?

Superstitions or pamiahiin are a fascinating blend of culture, psychology, and a touch of fun. Rooted in our cultural heritage, these beliefs have been passed down through generations, connecting us to our ancestors and traditions. The placebo effect also plays a role, as believing in something can sometimes manifest into reality. The power of positive thinking can influence our actions and outcomes. Beyond their psychological impact, superstitions can add a bit of whimsy and excitement to our lives. Sharing and discussing these beliefs with others can be a fun and lighthearted experience. Like just a week ago, I was discussing with my bestie and his partner about all the pamahiins we grew up with and still believe in. There are even some I haven't heard of until now. You learn something new everyday.

But, did you know that In the digital age, superstitions have evolved? We now have internet superstitions, like the fear of the number 4 or 13, the belief that certain symbols can bring bad luck. It's a fascinating blend of old and new, tradition and technology.

So, the next time you catch yourself knocking on wood or not sweeping at night because it's malas, don't be too hard on yourself. After all, a little superstition never hurt anyone. Just remember to keep it lighthearted and don't let it control your life.

Here are the top pamahiins I found on the Internet:

Knocking on Wood = To ward off bad luck after saying something boastful or negative. I still do this to this day and even articulate it when I'm telling a story. i.e. "Knock on wood that he finds out the bad news."

Pagpag: = To avoid bringing home bad spirits after attending a wake, one must stop somewhere before going home directly. Yeah, we still do this too. Actually, might also be an excuse to grab a bite to eat and not to go home just yet.

Tabi-tabi Po = A phrase said to ask permission from spirits when passing by a cemetery or other supposedly haunted places. I still do this to. You never know!

Cutting Your Nails at Night = Believed to invite bad luck or attract spirits. I don't believe this. If I don't have time to have my nails done at a salon, I do this myself and usually do this ain the evenings.

Sweeping the Floor at Night = This is considered bad luck as it is believed to sweep away good fortune. No matter what time of the day, I see a mess, I'll sweep it up.

Eating at the Kitchen Table = It is believed to bring poverty. Nope! Don't believe this is true. It's actually the best place to eat because you have quicker access to food.

Eating While Standing = This is considered disrespectful to food and can lead to bad luck. Don't think so. Whoever made this I think hasn't heard of cocktail tables and the need for them in standing room only catered events.

Sleeping with Wet Hair = This can lead to headaches or even blindness, according to some beliefs. I've done this a lot. I am partially blind, but not because of this.

Eating 12 Grapes at Midnight on New Year's Eve: = This is believed to bring good luck for each month of the year. I sometimes do this just for the heck of it and because I love grapes.

Wearing Polka Dots on New Year's Eve = This is believed to attract wealth and prosperity. This is also the same as keeping money in your pockets during New Years Eve. I still do this sometimes. It doesn't hurt.

These are just a few of the many pamahiins that Filipinos believe in. While some may seem outdated, they continue to be a part of Filipino culture and tradition.

Remember those days when dogs were relegated to backyards and occasional leash walks? It seems like a lifetime ago. Now, our furry friends are strutting their stuff in malls, dining in restaurants, and even sporting their own designer outfits. It's a dog's world, and we're just living in it.

But let's be real, not everyone's a fan of this trend. Some have shown annoyance when they would bump into them in public places or shake their heads when they see them dressed up and riding in strollers. Some people might roll their eyes and ask, "Why treat a dog like a child? You're spending so much on them. They're just animals." Well, to those folks, I say, "Why not?"

For many of us, our pets aren't just animals, they're family. They're the ones who greet us with wagging tails and slobbery kisses, no matter what kind of day we've had. They're the ones who listen to our problems without judgment and offer unconditional love.

I've been lucky enough to experience this firsthand. Titan, my loving devil dog black and tan Dachshund, was more than just a pet. He was my son, my best friend. For ten years, he filled my life with endless joy, loyalty, and a bit of canine chaos. Though he was spoiled rotten, he was worth every pampered moment. The guilt of saying goodbye still lingers, but I found solace in knowing I spared him further suffering.

In the wake of his loss, I found Snicker, a black and tan Dapple Dachshund. She's not just a dog. She's my daughter, my confidante, and the furry love of my life. We've shared several outings together, from malling to attending parties. She's my furry office mate, always eager to supervise my Zoom meetings and demand treats and cuddle time. Yes, I sometimes dress her up and she rides around in a stroller.

L: Titan 2011 - 2021. His famous "Dog Lennon" pic that was a hit in one of the international Dachshund Facebook groups.

R: Snicker, the little girly whirly a.k.a. Miss Congeniality.

Sure, there are responsibilities that come with being a pet parent – feeding, walking, and cleaning up after them. But it's all worth it. It's a privilege to care for a creature who loves you unconditionally. They're the ultimate mood boosters, always ready to offer a furry shoulder to cry on or a playful distraction. They know how to cheer you up, even when you think you've hit rock bottom.

So, the next time you see someone treating their pet like a member of the family, don't judge. Instead, embrace the joy and love that these furry companions bring into our lives. After all, they're not just pets -- They're family.

So, while I may not be cut out for the traditional parenting gig (Thanks a lot, faulty organs!), I've found the perfect alternative in fur parenting. My furbaby is the somewhat low-maintenance, high-reward "child" a hooman could ask for. No teenage angst, no school tuition bills, and no eye-rolling. Just pure, unconditional love and a whole lot of cuddles. Hooray for furkids!

P.S. If you're one of those people who think it's weird to treat pets like family, well, you kinda suck. 😆

Four years ago, my right eye decided to take a permanent vacation. People would ask, "What happened?". I actually started writing my story in late 2020 detailing what i have gone through. But, I sadly never got to finish it. But, in those four years a lot more has happened and finally with this blogging venture I've embarked on recently, I was determined to finish my story. And now, here it is! Yay! So, let's dive into the wild ride that led to me being monocular. Once upon a time…

DON’T SIT TOO CLOSE TO THE TV

When I was a kid, my older brother, Andrew (Drew) would tell me to stop watching so close to the TV, because I’ll ruin my eyes. Didn't believe him and I'd ignore him. I was a bookworm too and would not read in the proper lighting. Fast forward a few years, and voilà! Glasses. Should I have listened to kuya? Maybe.

FOUR EYES

I first donned spectacles in my junior year of high school. My mom picked out a pair of big-ass lola wireframes that reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite. To her, the bigger the frames the better. I was near-sighted (myopic), a fancy way of saying I couldn't see past my nose. But, let's be honest, those glasses were a fashion crime. I ditched them soon after, living life blurry-eyed, squinting most of the time. Fast forward a few years, and I rediscovered the necessity of eyewear, this time with a sleeker, better looking pair. But old habits die hard, and I’d frequently shed my specs, squinting my way through life. I'd often have those who's-that-waving-at-me-from-over-there moments, only to recognize the face when they get closer. Embarrassing.

Then came the discovery of contact lenses. Oh, the freedom! No more fogged-up glasses, no more squinting. It was like a superpower. But, those little suckers were a pain to handle, and they had a nasty habit of falling out or getting irritated at the most inopportune moments. Still, I'd gladly trade the hassle for the clear vision and the illusion of looking effortlessly cool.

FRICKIN' LASERS, MAN!: LASIK AND PHOTOCOAGULATION

Years ago when it was newly introduced, my dad considered LASIK surgery. He was all set to ditch his thick glasses, but it was revealed that the procedure wasn't a magical cure-all, especially for his super-high prescription. So, he decided to pass on it, especially for the price it was going for back then.

A few decades later, I found myself in the same boat, tired of the constant battle with glasses and contacts. My cousin raved about her LASIK experience, declaring it "life changing". That's it. I was sold.

In 2009, LASIK surgery prices have gone down by half. So, armed with some extra cash, I asked my mom to hook me up with her friend, an Ophthalmologist from the UST Eye Institute, and get the procedure done. I was excited to get my "life changing" moment. But, little did I know, my eagerness would lead to a series of unexpected twists and turns.

First, I made the stupid mistake of showing up to my pre-op appointment wearing contacts. Did you know that contact lenses make your corneas swell? I didn't. So, I had to return a week later, contact-free and get re-evaluated.

Next came the eye exam, a bunch of tests that would determine my LASIK eligibility. I was quizzed about floaters, those pesky little specks or fibers that dance and cast shadows in your vision. Yup, I had those. Turns out, I had a more serious issue: a tiny tear in my retina. It was like finding a crack in the windshield of your eye. To fix this, I had to undergo a procedure called Photocoagulation, a fancy term for a laser zapping my eye. The experience was as pleasant as a root canal, complete with zapping noises and sharp pokes. I did have to cough up a couple of more thousands to have this done. But hey, at least I'd be one step closer to 20/20 vision, so it was worth it.

After a week of healing from that procedure, finally, the day of the actual LASIK surgery arrived. After numbing drops and a lot of anticipation, I was prepped for surgery. The procedure itself was a blur (pun intended), but I remember clenching my fists and afraid to breathe wrong, thinking I might skew the laser beam or something. But, the whole procedure was done in about 30 minutes. Waiting for the anesthesia to take effect took longer.

Post-op, I was armed with safety goggles that looked like I was going to do carpentry and the promise of crystal-clear vision. However, a disclaimer from my doctor: age would eventually catch up, and I'd likely need glasses again. Darn it!

Nerdy-looking specs, but much better than the lola glasses my mom picked out as my first pair.

NO WARRANTY

So, I went back to being bespectacled in 2015 for distance. I enjoyed a blissful six-year run of clear, unobstructed vision. But alas, like all good things, it had to come to an end. We cannot escape time. The aging process is a relentless enemy. While I could opt for a second round of LASIK, I’ve decided to let things progress naturally. After all, why risk zapping my eyes with lasers again? I’ll stick to my glasses. It made me look smarter anyway.

RETINAL TEAR… A REPEAT?

In 2016, my right eye started acting up. It wasn't quite blurry, but more like someone had smeared Vaseline on the lens. I brushed it off, assuming it was just something like eye strain. But the problem persisted, and my right eye prescription kept getting higher and higher.

Two years later, then came the floaters – those pesky little specks were back. It was like a bad sci-fi movie with flashing lights, right in my eye. I suspected a retinal tear, a sequel to my 2016 ordeal. But, hey, why rush to the doctor? LASIK has turned up to be more popular and much cheaper, so I could have it done anytime, right? Wrong!

THINGS GETTING BLURRY

2019 was the year my right eye decided to throw a fit. It started with a bit of fuzziness, like looking through a dirty window. Again, I blamed it on late nights, video game binges, and a general disregard for proper reading conditions. I even tried those trendy eye masks and eye exercises, hoping to get my eye back to normal. But as the months passed, the blurriness worsened. It was like peering through a frosted glass, a constant reminder of my deteriorating vision. I finally decided to seek professional help, and luckily, big brother Drew knew a renowned retinal surgeon, Doc Arnold, who could check my eye out.

In the meantime, to compensate for my failing right eye, I started using an eye patch that could slip over my glasses. It was a bit of a strange look, but it helped my left eye focus better. I felt like a pirate. Arrgh, matey!

THE COCONUT

So, accompanied by Drew, I found myself in Doc Arnold's office, facing a diagnosis that sounded like a tropical disaster: Retinal Detachment. Dun dun dun!

So what is Retinal Detachment? It’s when your retina – that layer of tissue at the back of your eye that processes light – pulls away from the tissue around it. How do you get it? You can get it from getting older (age), hurting your eye, or being nearsighted. In my case, mine was caused by nearsightedness, and complications from that pesky little health gremlin, Diabetes.

The doctor actually explained it using metaphors. Imagine your eye as a coconut. Imagine your eyeball as a coconut.  In the middle of the coconut is the lens of your eye.  Now retinal detachment is when the coconut meat – the lining - detaches from the shell and ends up covering the lens.  Hence the dirty window or curtain effect in my vision.

The type of Retinal Detachment I had is the most common, which is Rhegmatogenous. I think this started with that retinal tear I had so many years ago.  Although, I supposedly got that fixed, I guess it didn’t stay fixed.  Retinal Detachment can be fixed if you have it treated right away.  Er…  Oops! 

So, the solution? Major eye surgery. I thought it would be as simple as that laser procedure I had done before I had LASIK. Nope. For this one, they'd have to put me under. They'd be fishing around in my eye, removing the old vitreous gel and replacing it with silicone oil. BUT, here's the thing… Since it's been three years since my vision started deteriorating, the doctor said there was a 50/50 chance of the surgery working. I could choose not to have the surgery, but, I risk complete vision loss and facial deformity (kirat). But, if I wanted to get my eye fixed, I had to have the surgery as soon as possible.

The financial burden was equally scary. The cost of the surgery was not cheap, I tell you, and I didn't have the funds that time. But with the help of friends, family, and a generous boss, I managed to scrape together enough to cover the expenses.

As the surgery date approached, my anxiety skyrocketed. I'd heard horror stories of botched eye surgeries, and the thought of losing my vision terrified me. I had panic attacks, and sleepless nights, or I would hyperventilate just thinking of all the what-ifs. But with the support of my brother and good friends who calmed me down, I was able to calm my nerves and face the surgery.

D-DAY: LENSECTOMY AND VITRECTOMY

So, I was all set for D-Day: a Lensectomy and Vitrectomy. A Lensectomy is a microsurgery procedure that removes part or all of the crystalline lens from the eye, usually done for complex Retinal Detachment, like what I had.  Vitrectomy is when they remove the vitreous gel inside your eye and replace it with silicone oil.  This is to push back the lining and keep it in place. Basically, they were going to do some microscopic surgery to yank out my natural lens (a bit like swapping out a faulty car part) and then fill my eyeball with silicone oil (think of it as a high-tech eye lubricant). It's an out-patient procedure. In and out, quicker than the actual prep time for surgery.

October 11, 2019: The day of reckoning. I checked into the hospital, feeling all sorts of nerves. Left alone with my thoughts, I started spiraling into a panic attack. I mean, who wouldn’t? I was about to have my eyeball operated on! I did what i can to distract myself. I even had a little photoshoot with my Popself. Thankfully, my bestie, Kraus, arrived and was there as my bantay, who provided some much-needed company, distraction and encouragement.

Pop Carla keeping me company at the hospital.

The next morning, I was wheeled off to the OR, Kraus holding my hand as he walked beside my wheelchair. I got quiet and was about to panic again. But, I got myself together in OR prep. After an hour of waiting, they moved my gurney to the actual Operating Room, placed a mask over my nose and mouth, then I remember the anesthesiologist telling me to breathe normally. Then… Nothing. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the Recovery Room disoriented, but not loopy as I thought I would be. It was done! Yay! I went back to sleep, until they told me it was time to go back to my room.

ROAD TO RECOVERY

After the short ride up to my room from Recovery, I was enjoying breakfast with Drew and Kraus, when I was told that the doctor wanted me to extend my hospital stay. But I was itching to get home. I was missing my furbaby, Titan, and I didn't want to pay for another night. So, Drew texted Doc Arnold to spring me that same day. He arrived, peeled off the eye patch, and gave my eye a once-over. He informed me that they’d wrapped a silicone belt around my eyeball -- Scleral Buckle -- to keep my retina in line. They had a video of the surgery and asked if we wanted to watch it. Uh… No thanks! Drew, on the other hand, was all for it. Weirdo.

Lensectomy/Vitrectomy done!

Now, we just had to wait and "see" (Hahaha...) the surgery's effectiveness. After a few more checks and instructions from Doc Arnold's intern, I was finally free! Armed with safety glasses and a strict face-down sleeping position order (thanks to the silicone oil), I was ready to conquer this healing process.

Going home! Big brother, Andrew, wheeling me to the parking lot.

FOLLOW UPS AND IMPROVEMENT

The next few weeks were promising. Although, I looked like a boxer who got beat up, my vision was still fuzzy, but it was less fuzzy. But hey, at least I could "see" the progress! I continued with my follow-ups, where they would test my sight using a high-powered lens and I would be able to make out letters.

The good news was, the detachment was history! But the bad news? Well, let's just say I won't be having perfect vision anytime soon. I'll get some of it back, but not crystal clear. It's like getting a half-baked miracle – disappointing, but still something to be grateful for.

Going through the healing process. Looking like I was beat up and lost a round in the ring. It did get better.

SUFFERING A LOSS

A month post-op, my right eye started getting blurry again, like it was having a flashback to its pre-surgery days. I was like, "Seriously, eye? After all that. you couldn't just stay fixed?" Ugh....!

Doc Arnold's verdict was a punch in the gut: the surgery had failed. Apparently, I'd waited too long to have it fixed. That was the 50/50 chance he warned me about. I was devastated, blaming myself for procrastinating and wishing I'd had the funds sooner to have it done. I even questioned the universe "Really, Universe? Why?"

But in the end, I realized that at least I'd taken a shot at it. An expensive shot, yeah, but a shot nonetheless. Sometimes, even the best-laid plans go awry. Not meant to be. *sigh*

ADJUSTING TO BEING MONOCULAR

Adjusting to life with one eye was no walk in the park. Suddenly, I was a member of the PWD community and it was a crash course in patience and adaptability. Peripheral vision? Gone. Depth perception? Wonky. Crossing the street became a high-stakes game of chicken, and I've narrowly avoided becoming road kill more times than I care to admit. I can no longer drive, ride a bike, operate heavy machinery or fly a plane (Yeah, right!). People would materialize out of thin air on my blind side or people would suddenly disappear only to realize that they've been there the whole time, I'd knock stuff off tables, and I'd trip over air. Darkness was my enemy, and forget about 3D movies – that dream was shattered when I realized I'd be forever stuck in 2D. I cried like a baby when I found out I couldn't experience Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker in all its 3D glory.

But, as they say, time heals all wounds (in my case, slowly) and eventually, I learned to navigate this new reality. It was tough, but I'm proud of how far I've come. I'm still fully functional, despite losing my right eye vision.

THE LEAK, ECQ, GLAUCOMA AND ASPIRATION

Easter Sunday 2020 was supposed to be enjoyable and relaxing, but it became a full-blown intense headache party. I projectile vomited my dinner and couldn't lift my head without feeling instense pain in my skull.

With the world on lockdown, getting to a doctor was like navigating a warzone. I was stuck at home, a gaunt, Cheetos-fueled zombie, enduring a never-ending intense headache. I wasn't eating because it was agony to get up and cook. Drew’s concerned “You look gross!” comment when he saw me was the cherry on top of this miserable sundae.

The culprit? A pesky silicone oil leak. This was the silicone oil that was injected in my eye to help repair the detached retina. It was mixing in with eye fluid and causing a pressure buildup that felt like a tiny, angry gremlin going nuts with a hammer. This was Glaucoma. I was finally able to see Doc Arnold, who told me with the ECQ restrictions, the only thing that could be done at that time was a quick fix. He recommended Aspiration. Imagine a needle piercing your eyeball to release some of the oil and relieve a bit of pressure. Yeah, it was as glamorous as it sounds... Not! Eye-yayay!

I was sweating, especially when i was told to "fight the needle" when they would puncture my eye, all while Drew captured the whole ordeal on video. It was a cringe-worthy performance, but at least the pressure subsided a bit. It was a temporary reprieve, a brief respite in a long, painful battle. We had to wait until more ECQ restrictions were lifted to get a more permanent cure.

Here comes the needle. Not a fun experience.

LASERS AGAIN: CYCLOPHOTOCOAGULATION

The permanent solution was a procedure called Cyclophotocoagulation. This procedure uses a laser to shrink a part of the eye that makes fluid. In my case, since my eye wasn't working anyway, they just decided to burn off the nerves that made the fluid. Doc Arnold and another eye doctor, Doc Norman, worked on me for this. It wasn't a fun procedure. That was the only time I was glad I was blind in that eye and couldn't see what they were doing. Despite the anesthesia I could still feel the poking and zapping. But, hey, it worked! Although I was sore for a week or so, the pressure in my eye was completely gone. Hallelujah!

THE BUCKLE

Things were looking up after the pressure was gone, but then a new problem arose about a few weeks after. My right eye started to droop and look irritated, almost like I had conjunctivitis.

It turned out that because of the silicone oil that leaked, my eyeball shrunk, causing the buckle holding my retina in place to loosen and rub against my eye. I was prescribed gel to squirt in my eye to soothe it, whenever it would act up. But it didn't work, so Doc Arnold decided to remove the buckle completely. While the procedure itself was simple, like less than 10 minutes, the prep time took longer.

Buckle's out! Selfie in the Recovery Area at the American Eye Institute.

After the buckle was removed, weeks later my eye started to deflate even more and droop. It would sometimes close on its own without me being conscious of it. Ugh... It was freakin' frustrating and ugly! I was becoming kirat! I was trying to avoid that, but alas!

So, everything was finally fixed. I was saying, that for an eye that doesn't work, it sure caused me a lot of grief. I was sick of going to The Medical City and the American Eye Institute. Please! I just wanted to be done with the eye problems. I swore to myself that I'd take good care of my remaining eye. I do NOT want to go through all that again. Any more and I'll consider a glass eye.

Kirat! Ugh....!

THE EYE PATCH, SIDE PART AND CATARACT

As time went on, I became more self-conscious about my eye. It looked weird. People would stare at it, and I felt uncomfortable. I asked my cousin to order a stylish eye patch from the US, as the ones available locally were more costume-like and would cover half of your face. Vain, much?

The eye patch definitely made me look kick-ass, but it also called attention. It's not something you see every day, especially on a woman. To avoid unwanted stares, I would leave the patch at home and styled my hair to cover my eye instead. My hairstylist already knows the drill and makes sure that my side part hides the eye.

Even now, I'm still self-conscious about my eye, especially since a cataract has developed. No need to remove the cataract since it's a dead eye. I just have to wear a black contact lens to hide it, but it's a hassle to wear every day. So, most of the time i end up with just glasses and the side part.

The patch, the side part, and the contact lens behind the glasses.

THE INVERTED BOAT: DIABETIC RETINOPATHY

Fast forward to 2024, and things were going well. Aside from needing stronger glasses, my eye seemed stable. Other health issues took precedence and I thought that was it for my eye problems. Wrong!

As a diabetic, I was at risk for Diabetic Retinopathy, a condition that damages the blood vessels in the retina. One morning, I woke up to a hazy, boat-shaped smear in my vision. I couldn't read fonts that were regular-sized and needed it magnified to be able to read anything. At first, I blamed it on eye strain from reading and working on the computer. But when the smear wouldn't go away, I knew something was wrong.

I told Andrew about it, who then reached out to Doc Arnold. He advised me to see him as soon as possible. Here we go again. It was clear that my eye problems were back.... Or did they never leave?

Doc Arnold was actually expecting me to come back because of something like this. What is that strange, boat-shaped smear in my vision, you may ask. It's a blood clot from a burst blood vessel in my eye. While Doc Arnold said it would eventually go away, it could happen again, and be much worse. More blood vessels can burst and could lead to complete vision loss.

The solution? A series of Laser photocoagulation sessions to seal off these bad blood vessels. As you have read, I'm no stranger to this, and I remember the pain well. But it's necessary if I want to keep my vision in my remaining eye.

HELLO AGAIN, LASERS!

I needed a minimum of four rounds of laser treatment at the Eye Center in The Medical City. In each session, Doc Arnold targeted about 450 blood vessels in my eye. We apparently have thousands in our eye. The first two sessions were relatively painless and quick. Took about 10 minutes. Waiting for the anesthesia to take effect took longer. The third session, however, hurt like a friggin' mother. Ow!!! My fists were clenched the whole time, nails digging in. That 10-minute session felt like forever. I had to take pain medication when I got home and a nap to feel better. But, I was told to rest for a month before the final session. Oh! During the break, I noticed that the inverted boat in my vision shifted to the side and was starting to fade. The fourth session was painful, but not as bad as the third. Good ol' Doc Arnold was able to get rid of all the bad blood vessels, but unfortunately, some healthy ones were also affected. Collateral damage, so to speak. I was warned that my night vision will dim further. I did notice that and I don't do well walking at night or in bad lighting.

After going to follow-up checks, thankfully I didn't need any additional sessions. No recurrences as of the end of July 2024. But, to avoid recurrences, I have kept my blood sugar levels in check. I have to be good and watch my diet.

HOPING THAT'S THE END OF IT

Disclaimer: This is just my two cents. I'm trying to share my thoughts and how I've changed my perspective over time. It's important to remember that words can mean different things to different people, especially across cultures. I’ve tried my best to be respectful and understanding, but I know everyone’s different. If anything I’ve said has rubbed someone the wrong way, please know it wasn’t my intention.

I remember a time when calling someone "bakla" was a way to tease, insult and degrade. I was guilty of doing this when I was a kid and getting called that in return during playground fights. While it used to be a common, casual term, people now use it carefully.

The term "bakla" has a complex history in the Philippines. its usage can still be sensitive, depending on the context and the relationship between the speaker and the listener. While it's often used casually among friends, using "bakla" in a hostile way can be hurtful. When used by a stranger or in a hostile environment, it can be deeply insulting and disrespectful. Similar to racial slurs, if used by a non-LGBTQ+ person, this can be seen as derogatory, especially if it's used to mock or belittle. We should be careful about how we use the word and who we say it to. It's important to be respectful always.

In recent years, there's been a growing movement to challenge outdated and harmful stereotypes. You may have heard the term "woke" from some GenZs. Many people, particularly those who support LGBTQ+ rights, consider the term "bakla" to be outdated and offensive. They argue that it reinforces harmful stereotypes and promotes discrimination against gay men.

Although "bakla", has been used in the Philippines for decades to describe gay men or even now women, it has now transformed into a term of self-empowerment for many. It's no longer a source of shame, but rather a badge of pride.

While the LGBTQIA+ community continues to make strides, there are still instances of discrimination and prejudice. That incident with the transwoman personality, for example, highlights the need for empathy and understanding. While addressing workplace misconduct is important, it should be done with respect and dignity. Not how this person did it. Unfortunately, there are still people closed-minded and not accepting, bringing in religion as a reason. We should not force them to change their beliefs and force people to theirs, but don't condemn or shun the community because of that.

The Philippine Government's stance on LGBTQIA+ is complex and ever changing. The country is still working towards greater LGBTQIA+ rights. While there's growing acceptance, laws are still needed to protect the community (Yaas, SOGIE Equality Bill!). Same-sex marriage remains illegal. But, despite roadblocks, they continue to fight for equality and inclusion.

As I see it, people of the LGBTQIA+ simply wants equality, acceptance, and freedom of expression. They just want legal and social recognition, supportive communities, and policies that protect their rights. They also want to emphasize the importance of embracing individuality and celebrating the diversity.

I'm fortunate to have many wonderful gay friends, and I'm proud to call them my own. They are individuals, human beings deserving of respect and dignity. In today's world, we must embrace equality and respect everyone's right to love and be loved.

And let's not forget the fabulous world of drag! I'm a huge fan of RuPaul's Drag Race and am always amazed by the creativity, talent, and humor of the queens. They fearlessly express themselves, challenging norms and inspiring others. Werk! Sadly, some people view them as strange or abnormal, even going so far as to accuse them of being sexual predators who prey on children. Like, seriously?!

As a straight ally, I stand in solidarity with the LGBTQIA+. Just because I support them, hang out with them and enjoy watching drag queens, doesn't mean I'm gay myself. But, I believe that everyone should be free to be themselves, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity. So what if you're bakla, bading, beki, beks? Embrace it! Be proud of who you are. Yaas, Kween!

Here's a late bloggers's confession, so to speak. I’ve always had a penchant for writing. From the obligatory essays in school to the required writing tasks from clients I still come out with today, writing has been a constant thing for me. I guess I got this from my dad who had a knack for it. However, I’ve kept my personal writing private. Like a secret drawer full of thoughts and feelings.

When blogging was at its peak, I was a lurker. I even own a Tumblr page, but mostly as a sort of private journal. Now, as I dive into sharing some of my blogging, I know I’m a bit late to the party. People seem to prefer vlogs by influencers these days, I don't do videos, because I'm conscious of my wonky eye. But I’m here, in front of my computer, ready to share my thoughts.

Last year, I had a wake-up call. Several health issues and a heart attack forced me to reevaluate my priorities. It made me realize that life is fleeting. #YOLO and all that. I guess I want to make the most of it. One way to do that is to share my thoughts and experiences with the world (although I know there would be some who would just have me keep my thoughts to myself. Hahaha...) Maybe leave something for the world to read when I've left this earth. Morbid much?

I’ve always had strong opinions about various issues. I’ve discussed them with family, friends, and even my dog (who let’s be honest, doesn’t offer much in the way of intellectual conversation, despite her being a smart doggo). But I do want a broader audience, a chance to connect with like-minded individuals and engage in meaningful conversations.

Do I use AI? Yes, but not all the time. I’ve been writing long before AI like JarvisAI, ChatGPT or Gemini, became a household name. But, I have found it to be a helpful tool, especially when writer’s block strikes or I need a fresh perspective. It can suggest sentence structures, alternative phrasing, and definitions explained like a 5-year-old, and even generate ideas. But, even if it's able to write a whole book if I wanted, I’m wary of relying too heavily on it. It can sometimes produce robotic, impersonal content. That’s why I always make sure to infuse my writing with human emotion and reliability. I do believe NI (natural intelligence) is still better than AI (artificial intelligence), even with the ease it brings.

I’m kinda excited to continue on with this hobby. One where I share my thoughts and feelings with people out there. I hope people will enjoy what I write. If not, it's okay too. I do look forward to reading comments, and feedback.

Remember when guys used to carry handkerchiefs? It was a sign of class and sophistication. Now, they're more likely to reach for a tissue from their pocket. Is it still a thing to carry a hanky?

Back then, handkerchiefs were a staple item in every gentleman's wardrobe. They served as a practical tool for hygiene, used to wipe noses, hands, and even faces. Carrying a hanky was a sign of good manners and personal care. Women carried these, too, especially the frilly, lacy kind. But, they were traditionally been carried more by men.

I used to love watching my dad whip out his hanky and would lend it to me if I needed it. Such a gentlemanly thing to do. It was like a little magic trick. But these days, I rarely see anyone else doing it. I'm happy to see my brothers carry on with this habit. They had to be white, too. I find it rather classy.

Have you ever experienced the thrill of opening a blind box? The anticipation of not knowing what's inside, coupled with the excitement of potentially finding a rare or highly sought-after collectible, has made blind box art toys a global phenomenon.

The concept of blind box toys can be traced back to the 1980s in Japan. However, it wasn't until the early 2000s that they gained significant popularity with the rise of companies like Pop Mart, which specialized in producing and retailing designer toy figurines in blind boxes.

Pop Mart has undoubtedly become the leading name in the blind box collectible market. Their range of characters, including the iconic Labubu, Pucky, Molly, Skullpanda, Dimoo, Hirono, and Zimomo, has captivated collectors worldwide.

One of the major factors driving the popularity of blind box art toys is the allure of exclusives. Limited edition or rare characters can be highly valuable, with some selling for thousands of Pesos. This has created a competitive market where collectors go to great lengths to complete their sets.

Blind box art toys have also gained a significant following in the Pinoy community. Pinoy collectors often display their prized possessions as "anik-anik" or bag charms, showcasing their unique personalities and interests. It's also an opportunity to show off what you were lucky enough to get. I'm not immune to this trend either. My bag is close to becoming a charm bracelet, with a managerie hanging from the zippers and straps. But don't expect to find any Labubu or Zimomo here. I prefer their friend Tycoco.

(Right) My bag with my "anik-anik". Dogpool is from the Hot Toys Cosbi Deadpool & Wolverine series and Kuromi Joker is from Kuromi Poker Kingdom from Miniso. Will I be adding more "charms"? Definitely. (Left) Not my bag. No Labubus or Zimomos hanging from mine. (ctto)

While the thrill of unboxing blind boxes is undeniable, take note that there are also challenges involved. Collectors may end up with duplicates or characters they don't like, leading them to purchase more boxes in the hope of finding the ones they want.

But, the upside of collecting blind box art toys is the opportunity to connect with like-minded people. Trading groups and communities have emerged, providing a place for collectors to swap or sell duplicates, share information about upcoming releases, and make new friends. Back then, this is what we would do with trading cards and Figurin Panini Stickers to complete the sticker albums. Now, it's the blind box art toys that are capturing our hearts and wallets.

I started collecting a few blind box figures from Pop Mart, Funko, and Unbox & Friends back in 2019, but I was more into Funko Pops! at the time, so I didn't go all-in on blind box collecting. The only line I really got into was the Hot Toys Cosbi Star Wars series. In my impatience to complete sets, I'd sometimes buy sealed cases or trade with people who had duplicates. It actually saved me money in the long run, but I missed the excitement of the mystery.

With the popularity of blind box art toys now, it shows no signs of slowing down. With brands like Miniso, Hot Toys, Funko or Collectormates in the market, it's clear that this trend is here to stay. Whether you're a seasoned collector or just starting your journey, the mystery, excitement, and potential for value appreciation make these collectibles an addicting hobby. However, be prepared to spend! It could be painful for your wallet, especially as you try to complete your sets or try to get those rare exclusives.

The once vibrant and welcoming community of toy collectors has been marred by a growing culture of bullying, politics, and greed. What began as a shared passion for beloved collectibles has devolved into a toxic environment that discourages newcomers and drives away those who simply want to enjoy their hobby.

Joining a toy collecting group was once a way to meet like-minded individuals, discover new finds, and engage in meaningful discussions about the subject. Collectors would generously share information, offer advice, and even help each other complete their collections. The focus was on the shared love for the hobby.

Unfortunately, this positive atmosphere has been replaced by a toxic culture characterized by bullying, power-tripping, and greed. New collectors are often met with sarcasm or snide remarks, and those who dare to question the status quo may face even harsher treatment. The once-supportive community has become a breeding ground for toxicity.

This shift is particularly disheartening for those who have been collecting for many years. They remember a time when collectors were more focused on helping each other than on making money. The camaraderie and kindness that once defined the hobby have been replaced by a cutthroat mentality that prioritizes "power tripping" and greed over community.

Sadly, it is sometimes the leaders of these organizations, who are supposed to be guides and mentors, who are at the heart of this toxic culture. Their power-tripping behavior creates a hostile environment that discourages newcomers and drives away experienced collectors. Instead of fostering a sense of community, they are creating a toxic culture that is damaging the hobby as a whole.

For years, this community has been a central part of my life, and I considered some of its members to be close friends. Unfortunately, inflated egos and a focus on personal gain have led to betrayals and a toxic environment. People who I once thought were united by our shared passion have proven to be untrustworthy, turning on me when I questioned their questionable leadership. The constant drama, bullying, and power-tripping have made me lose interest in the hobby. Ironically, the group's slogan promoting unity and community is a stark contrast to the toxic reality.

This toxic culture is not unique to toy collecting groups; it can also be seen in other hobby communities, such as those dedicated to sneakers, trading cards, and more. This growing problem must be addressed within the collecting community. The toxic culture of bullying, politics, and greed must be rejected and stopped early on. A more welcoming and inclusive environment should be created where everyone feels safe to participate and enjoy their hobby. It is possible to restore the positive spirit that once made toy collecting such a rewarding experience.  A positive and supportive environment for all collectors should be instilled, regardless of their experience level or collecting preferences.