Battles of the heart

by Jen Eleusine


Throughout my life, I have experienced quite a lot of physical pain. When I was around 3 years old, I remember I was being forced by someone in a dark green, pajama-looking clothing to lie down on a bed the same color as his(?) clothes. I remember I was crying, and then I saw my mom, she was saying something I couldn't remember, but I knew in my young mind, she was trying to pacify me. After lying down on the green bed, I cried hard, then I could not remember anything more. At 3 years old, a cyst grew on my back, 5 o'clock position to my right rib case. I went through a major operation, and my mother said I was given general anesthesia, and I was asleep for around  6 hours. She said she feared I would never wake up.

After that, I could not remember going to the hospital again for any "major" problem. I only went to the hospital in 3rd year high school, after a bus accident I luckily was able to survive. It was 6.30 in the morning. My sister and I were just commuting to school. My sister later recounts that I was very much in a hurry that morning, even though it was still very early, and the campus was just near, (in fact it could easily be reached if we ride a jeep, like we usually do.) But that morning, I insisted on riding the bus. It wasn't a wise decision. As I alighted the bus upon reaching school, the bus moved with a scary speed, a speed that threw me off the bus onto the wet, rough, asphalt road. My royal blue skirt was wet with rain and mud. It was a foggy, quiet morning. Except for a girl lying down on the road, and the shouting of people who saw what had happened, (I could not remember I was able to cry,) everything seemed as serene as it usually is.

My visits to the hospital have become more frequent when I reached college. Being alone in the progressive old town of Dasmarinas, Cavite was one of the toughest battle I had to conquer. It was also the time my personal life was tumbling down. Ever since I was a child, I always had felt chest pains and heartaches, and when I was in college, literally my heart was getting weak, my doctor confirmed. (It would never appear in any of my medical records in high school and college, though). I would usually bring myself to the hospital, for fear that my family would not be able to handle any more trouble.  Fortunately, I was able to win that battle. They say it's mind over body. I believe it's not just the mind that made me survive. My heart, in its weakness and brokenness, has so much love for so many people around me, I think it would fight every battle against death.

My body has challenged my heart so many times. In 2009, I was hospitalized twice. The diagnosis was acute  gastroenteritis. It was, I thought a simple stomach ache, but it meant many days of absence from my work as a teacher in a private school in Dasma. On the second  relapse of my stomach problems, (this time it was a confirmed ulcer) I met an angel who asked me to apply as a part-time faculty in a university. At that time, I did not know where life is really taking me, so I applied for the job, not knowing it was to be my destiny. The path I so longed to thread, the road I never knew I wanted to take...was there, all made just right for me. They accepted me, and luckily, the clinic said I was as healthy as a horse, except that my eyes are not as bright as they should be for someone my age.

In 2010, I had a series of UTI attacks, which, the doctor explained was because I control my urinating and I do not drink water. (I enjoy Coke and hard drinks better.) My acidic stomach has had some repeats, but I was able to stay on. In 2011, I was under medication for all of that. Surprisingly, it did not affect my work, except that when it's really bad, I would ask for a substitute for my classes. Most of the time, any pain I feel physically was overpowered by my love for my work, and my students. My heart again, wins over my body.

In the middle of 2011, it was all fine. Except that once, a mad man, who happens to have had some rift with someone I knew, pointed a gun on me, and brought me to the dark roads between Salitran and Salawag. It was around 10 pm. And I knew that road...so I struggled to get out of his car. It was an old box-type Lancer with a thin, plastic-looking window on the right. But it was not plastic, it was something hard enough to break my bones. I later learned that when I smashed the window to get out of the car and save myself. I brought myself to the police station.

 In 2012, my heart has had palpitations and my chest pains would sometimes relapse. I would still visit the hospital by myself, still for fear of giving my family and friends a burden. I'd pay for all the tests and some MRI at times. Recently, I had a slip, causing three of my fingers to break (I learned that 3 weeks after the accident, when i decided to see a doctor by myself.) I would have convulsions and extreme bone aches. In times like that, I'd just pray, "In Jesus' name..." to put myself back together. Nothing is so painful when you love life. After all of these, I think I am well. As long as my heart beats with love for my job, for the people I love, for life itself...I am well.