Wednesday, May 22, 2013
. 4 years have passed. Whenever I look back at the trauma I've been through, I cannot help but thank God for the strength and equanimity He gave me during that ordeal. I have been very dependent on my late husband for 7 years that his 40 day stay in the Surgical ICU almost drove me mad because I didn't know whether he would die or live. I couldn't sleep because for 7 years, I was used to hearing his voice before the day ended. What made matters worst was that hospitals in Dubai weren't like our hospitals here where one could visit anytime he wanted to or even sleep in the patient's room. They had visiting hours there, 4pm-6pm Sunday-Thursday and 10-12am, 4-6pm on Fridays and Saturdays. And children below 12 weren't allowed. I was taking care of my Kz full time then but thankfully my in-laws took shifts in watching over Kz while I was inside the SICU of Rashid Trauma Center. And since only 2 visitors were allowed at a time, I sometimes had to give way for church members, friends and family who wanted to see Floren. Yes, I was so dependent on him that I couldn't even cook dinner without asking him first what he wanted to eat. I would drive him to work at 9 am, and fetch him from the office at 6pm, and in between those 9 hours, I would call him every hour simply because I couldn't function without him. I was dependent, insecure and immature. Thankfully I had a husband whose patience was enough for Rome to proclaim him a saint.
I was also far from my immediate family and I know it was me who put my papa under stress because I had to call them everyday 11pm UAE time (3am Manila time)because I had to talk to someone as the silence of the night drove me crazy those days when I didn't know if Floren would come out alive or just die.
I also remember my faith then. When Floren had his 2nd aneurysm rupture and was proclaimed brain dead when he arrived at the hospital, I fought for my faith. Doctors told me they could no longer do anything for him. I didn't understand it then, because Floren survived his 1st aneurysm rupture even when there was a 9hour interval before he was brought to surgery. So why couldn't the doctors do anything for his brain this time when only minutes have passed since his brain started to bleed? The neurosurgeon could only say it was impossible. And from my mouth I told that Muslim doctor, "WHAT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU IS POSSIBLE FOR MY GOD!". I waited and waited for days for that miracle. No brain dead person ever survived in the history of men. I was so steadfast in my faith that it could have moved mountains then. I knew my God could do it... But it was not a matter of what my God could have done. It was whether He wanted it done. I was too blinded with wanting Floren to live that I forgot that his surviving the 1st brain aneurysm rupture WAS MY MIRACLE. The doctors couldn't really explain why he survived without neurological defects then. They couldn't explain why after the rupture, his aneurysm healed itself by calcifying. And for the days when Floren was sedated , his encounter with God was his miracle. He woke up knowing he was already forgiven , that his sins , though they may have been as red as scarlet, God made his slate as white as snow. That was his miracle.
And my personal miracle was how I survived those days. I didn't have a job. I only had 50dirhams in my pocket. Floren's salary was to go to the banks because they had been pestering me for weeks that if I couldn't update our credit card bills they would be forced to take the case to the police.But God provided all my needs then. In fact, I had more than what I needed. Somebody even gave me money to go shopping. Every time I needed to go somewhere, there was always a parking lot right in front of the door or entrance. Somebody commented I didn't look like i have just been widowed for all they could see was a face that was so radiant. The day after they took Floren off the ventilator, I was the one who processed all the papers needed for us to fly back home with his remains. And people were surprised I still had the strength and peace to do that. I even stood in front of hundreds of our church members and talked about God's goodness even if He had to say NO to my prayers. Yes, God said NO, to all those who prayed, to the thousands of Christians back in the Philippines who prayed for Floren, to me who prayed every single hour, to me who fasted and read the Bible. I realized No amount of prayers could have saved Floren from the brink of human death because what God had planned was for Floren to start enjoying his eternal life in heaven.
Looking back, I think that was pushed me away from God after we buried Floren. It was like everything just sank in that I suddenly became disappointed with God because I was a good and faithful servant then, why couldn't He have answered that one prayer? He answered my financial needs, almost all my prayers, but why deny me that one thing I would have given up my life for? I didn't know then what Grace was.. After that, I went through post traumatic stress disorder. It started on the first week of August (Floren had his 1st brain hemorrhage on May 14, went home June 9, his 2nd aneurysm rupture on June 10 and legally died June 24 and was buried July 10,2009.) I stopped crying after we buried him and suppressed all the pain inside me. One night I woke up gasping for breath. I thought I was having a heart attack. They rushed me to the hospital and the ECG said there was nothing wrong with my heart. I started having night terrors after that. I started fearing going out to public places alone because what if I couldnt breathe? Who would help me? I started being afraid of shopping malls, public transportation... I would wake u every now and then screaming and begging to be brought to the hospital because I felt like I was having a heart attack. I carried with me a device that showed my oxygen level in the blood and my heart rate(Oximeter). I panicked at the thought of going to places without a hospital nearby. And the worst was when I started taking baths with the door open because I felt like I was going to die inside the bathroom that I began stopping to take baths at all because I did not want to die. I still vividly recall all the panic attacks caused by my PTSD. I refused to take the sedatives the doctors prescribed because I told myself I wasn't crazy. I even spent months locked inside my room forgetting to take care of my daughter and instead watched tv 24hrs/day.
Now 4 years after, I have moved on. I have finally forgiven myself for Floren's death. Yes I blamed myself. Why, that I cannot tell. But I am alive once again. Yes, I have learned to love someone. I may not love him the same way I loved Floren, but I sure love him with the same intensity and everyday it gets deeper and deeper. And I will love him until my very last breath... But growing up and allowing myself to transform into the woman God has always designed to me become has to come first. I cannot give myself fully to another person until God has made me whole again. And I am allowing Him to do so. Because I believe I went through that ordeal with Floren to prepare me to be the best match for the person God has in store for me---
I haven't written in a long time. And this feels so good.
What will define my strength is how I rise up today. I am finally over his death. The pain will always remain there, I will always miss him. But I am over his death. I have forgiven myself and accepted God's will. And now I am looking forward to proving I am beautiful and special because God created me that way.
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