It Is always a choIce

By Helen Magpantay Encarnacion Contributor

Iam a fiftyish single mom to the love of my life and only son Joey who is now a college student. Working in Public Relations as a freelancer, I raised my son all by myself. He was nine when my husband completely abandoned us to pursue other personal affairs. my smoking got worse from half a pack to almost one and a half packs a day. Depression and anxiety got me to the point that I did not want to see other people, much less exercise.

My health was never the same again since then.

Rubber sticker on my chest

Several weeks before Christmas of 2009, I was hoping against hope that my husband would call my son and I to tell us he was ok, and that he would come back for us. But nada. Zilch. Zero. Not a word, not a whiff of anything from him.

I couldn’t take a Christmas that is lacking of a father and a husband.

Then it started. The intermittent pain in the stomach. Nights that I couldn’t sleep. The feeling of a rubberized sticker on my upper torso, from above my navel up to my shoulder blades.

My first instinct was to massage e ucalyptus oil on my tummy and on my chest as I did in the on a low-salt, low-fat diet. Smoking was also a no-no. Most importantly, I was told to avoid the things that stressed me. But how can one actually do that? past to relieve me of muscle pain or the feeling of being bloated. a t t he er , m y precious +a B blood was extracted for the routine check. While an e C G machine was attached to my pressure points, I fell asleep. I woke up in an air-conditioned room with an I v bag attached to me. a f ter several days of loneliness, self-pity, incessant boredom and tasteless hospital food, I was given the doctor’s discharge order. The doctor saw me just before I left the hospital. He said that I had a heart attack, a Myocardial Infarction. He added that I had to be very mindful of the quality of food that I ate so I was placed

During that difficult time, I only had my fifth grader taking care of me in the hospital. Though my friends visited every now and then, it was Joey who spoke with my doctors, bought me my medicine in cases when the hospital ran out of stock, briefed the visitors of my condition, and handled our finances. He was only 11 years old then.

I tried sleeping in the fetal position and flat with my face and body down on the bed. During the first nights it worked, easing the pain I felt on my chest. But the chest pains got more and more intense as the days went on.

Until one morning, I asked Joey and my sister to bring me to the Hospital e me rgency r o om. The pain was so unnerving and continuous that it felt like I was always about to vomit but I never did.

That heart attack made me feel sorry for myself. Being the stubborn person that I was, I still held on to my bad habits. The unhealthy diet, the overall lack of exercise, my smoking and above all else, the mental and emotional stress.

My depression got worse by the day until three years later, something out of the ordinary happened.

World spins with my eyes closed aS i s my routine around 4:00 am, I went down to the bathroom to pee. With my eyes closed, I sat down on the toilet bowl and urinated. But together with urine, I was also defecating soft and watery feces. Still with eyes closed, I washed myself up. I felt the world spinning with my eyes closed as I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom. I called Joey midway and he helped me up.

In the bedroom, I was complaining of dizziness that wouldn’t go away even if my eyes were closed and in whatever position I was. My son who was in 5th grade then decided for us to go to the nearest hospital. While he hailed a cab, I struggled to grip on to anything I could get my hands on so I can get out the gate and board the taxi. Inside the cab with Joey, still with my eyes closed, he asked me if I could raise my arms together. He said I can raise my left arm but my right arm was left on my lap. I cried.

Continued on C3