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30Oct 2017

Our Halloween Trick or Treat Tradition 25 years ago

What happened to Halloween day? Why is Trick or Treat celebrated way earlier than October 31? Where is the fun in moving it to an earlier date? Those were some of the questions my kids asked me in 2006. My three children celebrated Trick or Treat only on October 31 whether it was a weekday or weekend. Then that all changed when our village changed the date because it was just convenient for them to facilitate the kids in costume. My kids often say that it is like moving Christmas day to December 20. Something like that.

Wikipedia states that

Halloween (or Hallowe’en) is an international holiday celebrated on October 31. Halloween activities include trick-or-treating, ghost tours, bonfires, costume parties, visiting haunted attractions, carving jack-o’-lanterns, reading scary stories, and watching horror movies.

I do not understand. Maybe I am trapped in the American tradition that my husband brought to our family since we first celebrated it 25 years ago. Maybe the Philippines has its own version on how to celebrate Halloween.

I remember the day my dear husband reminded me to dress up the little girls into witches for Halloween. “Halloween?” I thought Halloween was only done in the Western countries. ” Yes you have to dress them up as witches”. As a little boy in the late sixties, he pranced around the neighborhood begging for candies and yelling “Trick or Treat” . According to him, the Halloween “Trick or Treat” originated in the Philippines during the sixties when the Americans living in the village started the tradition. In the early nineties, Halloween was not yet commercialized. No little kids doing trick or treat inside the malls.

The Trick or Treat was limited to Ayala Land villages, where most American expatriates lived. There were a few masks and simple decors in National Book store but that was it. No costumes. I had to be creative. I designed a witch costume with yellow piping and a dressmaker executed it. A balikbayan sister from San Francisco brought in the hat, the candy corn candies, the fangs gum for props.

We drove all the way to visit the kid’s grandparents in Alabang just for the spooky Halloween experience. As usual, the beaming stage mother dressed up her adorable girls as cute little witches. The Trick or Treat party at the club was fantastic. The kids were dressed in typical Halloween costumes like vampires, ghosts, witches, and devils or even pumpkins.The eerie decors added to the thrilling experience.

The Trick or Treat adventure in this swanky Alabang village is something else. The houses compete with each other on the scariest theme. Most of these houses had tricks. In one house, the kids were terrified of the candle-lit pathway that led to a vampire rocking on the chair. Complete with spine-tingling music as you walk towards the vampire, it even freaked me out. One of my daughters scurried away as soon as she saw the ghoulish figure. For many years, the girls spent their Halloween with their grandparents in this Alabang village until Luijoe arrived in our lives.

Luijoe’s first Halloween in 1994 was spent at his aunt’s village. She started the Trick or Treat experience in her own village. 1994 saw the year when malls and the like started to sell costumes and more Halloween decors. My husband just adored his little boy. It’s no wonder that Halloween is such a painful experience for my husband. The past years, he used to hibernate in our bedroom avoiding the little kids knocking at our doors. But that is just how he was then. I love giving candies to these kids as I imagine my precious Luijoe hovering nearby. I am sure Luijoe is around me all the time.

My little boy posed his cutest smile ever. “sigh” I miss my boy. As I gathered the photos for this entry, I could not help turning misty-eyed pouring over these precious memories . “Was he really that cute?” “How I wish I can just rewind the past and hug him all over again!” Pictures and memories are what is left of him. Of course, his love rings true in my heart. But yes, I digress. And the tears well up again as I write this.

The girls who were then in their pre-teen years continued to be witches until their early teens. That’s when they designed their own costumes or innovated their wardrobe.

Luijoe’s last two Halloween was dressed up as a little devil. How he liked playing the naughty little imp to the hilt. This little devil is now my angel . His impish grins just makes me smile. Kids are just so adorable aren’t they? I miss my kids as little kids and being the stage mother fussing around them. Now that they have grown up, I’m just there when they need me.

After Luijoe died in 2000, the girls continued the Trick or Treat tradition with their younger cousins. Costumes are now based on themes other than traditional horror, such as dressing up as a character from a TV show or movie. Ahhh…. I miss the traditional Halloween costumes. L in this photo is behind the fence because she was traumatized by an 11 year old bully who grabbed her whole bag of candies. Demand for candies is just so much that after an hour, we always ran out of treats.

Our kitties are not exempt from trick or treat.

The girls have outgrown the costumes but the ghost story telling or watching horror movies never dies. I don’t have to don the witch’ hat and spook them out. I don’t need to line the garage with eerie candle-lit lighting. No need for the masked monster by the rocking chair. They can entertain themselves now.

So that’s how my family celebrate Halloween. What’s your tradition?

14Jan 2017

Sinulog memories

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 3 Comments

Taken on the stage of Sinulog 1985 celebrationThe cries of Pit Senyor rings in the air right now as Cebu’s Sinulog celebration heats up. Sinulog holds treasured memories of the two loves of my life: My dad and my husband.

Thirty one years ago , I first attended it with my then fiance. A lot of milestones happened in Sinulog 1985.

– my first Sinulog
– I got engaged the day before
– Dad was the chair of Sinulog 1985
– the 1985 model was a great organizational model

The Pamanhikan

How in love we both were ( and still are). Sinulog 1985 holds precious memories as that was the day Butch asked my dad for my hand in marriage. On that day, the two loves of my life finally got to talk for the first time. In all the 7 years that Butch and I were steadies, Dad never spoke a single word to Butch except “hi and bye”. That day, I finally asked Dad why he treated Butch that way . Dad’s two lame explanations were that he didn’t want Butch to be too familiar and secondly , he didn’t know how to talk to the boyfriend of his daughter. Oh well, that was cleared up that fateful Sinulog eve.

Sinulog 2012

Dad, the organizer

I missed the Sinulog so many times. During the Sinulog 2012, I brought my two girls to join the festivities and finally participate and take photos. It was not that crowded then in 1985 yet it was still festive.

With the help of my sister, Lorna who assisted dad during the Sinulog, I was able to piece something about dad’s last Sinulog as the overall organizer.

Dad was the chair for the Board of Judges committee, to judge the higantes and floats, starting 1981. I helped him find the judges and investigate their reputation and credibility. It is possible that the 1985 festival was the largest since it started but I do recall that even 1981 had already elbow-to-elbow crowds. I cannot remember the numbers. All I truly remember is that the 1985 model was a great organizational model.

The Sinulog Festival that started in 1980 was a modestly-managed event. David ““Boy” Odilao had started this project as a competition among school-based dance troupes. 16-year old Shelley Ann Roper from Connecticut, USA, the Rotary Exchange student hosted by the Rotary Club of Cebu-West (and who was living with us in our Lahug home) who was a member of the Southwestern Dance Troupe, was acknowledged as the first American to dance in this first official celebration that had commercial appeal. Shelley certainly stood out Ã¢â‚¬â€ blonde hair, fair skin, dancing barefooted in Sinulog attire.

Sinulog 2012

The glitters, the dances, the fancy trimmings and the pageantry are only expressions of how important Santo Nino is to the Cebuanos but for me Sinulog is a day filled with treasures of love .

My dear Sto. Nino . These days in January we are again celebrating your feast. How fitting to celebrate your feast in this first month of the year, since as a child, you invite us to grow and mature with you through the year!

Pit Senyor

17Dec 2016

Memories of Misa de gallo (or Simbang gabi)

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ Leave a Comment

Simbang Gabi is an “Aguinaldo Mass that literally means “Gift Mass.”

Three thirty in the morning
Wake up, he said.
Let’s go.

Bells tolling
In the distance
Calling us.

Walking briskly
in the dark
With my chattering sisters
And brothers
Shivering
I pulled my coat close to me
Against the chilly air.

Four a.m.
Struggling to keep my eyes open
In a church
smelling of candles
packed with people
Praying fervently
in Cebuano

This is torture, I thought
Let this be over soon.
Sacrifice, my father whispered
Preparing for Jesus’s birth.

The choir’s voices
swelled into song
Kasadya ning Taknaa.

At the parish hall door
Handing brown bags
of pan de sal
my mother had baked
to a jostling crowd
of the poor outside
who smelled of sweat and dust

Smiles from my neighbors inside
Sipping steaming cups of tsokolate
Munching sweet bread
Amid red and green parols
swaying by the windows.

I sighed.
Soon
It will be Christmas.

The poem was written by my younger sister five years ago. Now living in the US, she came up with the poem for her community paper after we reminisced on our childhood Christmas memories. Those were the days when we dreaded waking up at 3:30 AM yet we feared our dad’s anger if we didn’t obey him.

My sister asked “what was the word we used for simbang gabi?”

I know it as misa de gallo.

Oh yes, my sister recalled now. Misa de Gallo (Rooster’s Mass) is a more fitting word than simbang gabi (Night Mass) because we can literally hear roosters during the mass. I couldn’t understand why dad had to wake us up at such an ungodly hour. Going to mass this early for nine consecutive days is meant to show the churchgoer’s devotion to his faith and heighten anticipation for the Nativity of the Lord. In traditional Filipino belief, however, completing the novena is also supposed to mean that God would grant the devotee’s special wish or favor. I don’t think my dad was after granting of his wishes. He was a successful business man and a loving husband and father to seven children. He just wanted to follow Filipino tradition.

Despite the discomfort of waking up early, my sisters and I look back to these memories with nostalgia. Misa de Gallo was a test of our willpower to get up early and stay awake during mass. Of course, we were all wide awake for the free breakfast that our community prepared during the nine days. Many years later, I struggled to wake up at 4:00 AM and I succeeded only once since my teen years. That’s only because my two girls sang at the church choir.

Maybe it was the Misa de Gallo memories with my family or my dad, but today I finally woke up to the sound of Christmas carols pealing in the air. No church bells ringing , just the soothing Christmas carols which actually woke me up. Unfortunately, Butch begged off and the two girls refused to wake up. So I walked across the street just ten minutes before the mass started and what do I see?! A jumpacked church. I should have brought a stool. For once, I liked the sermon of our parish priest as it speaks of the divinity of Jesus Christ, that Jesus Christ is the main reason for the celebration of the season!

Just like tradition, I dropped by to buy suman and puto bumbong to feed the sleepyheads at home.

Here I am unable to sleep so I am blogging about the Misa de Gallo in my parish church.

Do you follow this tradition?

03Apr 2016

The power of a praying parent

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ Leave a Comment

One of the biggest life-changing event in 2013 is when my two children left our home to live independently. My new life as a blogger in 2006 came just when the kids were in college which then prepared me to let go one year at a time. Being alone at home with four cats give me some measure of comfort. It’s just the two of us now…my husband and I . There are many things we can do on our own that we never could do while the children were living with us like overseas travel or just sitting quietly reading a book.

I get flashbacks of my life as a mom to all the ‘first’ times in their lives: the first time the girls left home for a high school retreat, the first time the girls commuted through public transportation, the first time they crossed the streets by themselves, the first time they flew abroad on their own, the first time they drove the car. So many firsts and twenty something years later, the same feeling comes over me as I watched each daughter leave home, and watch her go. A mingling of pride, a bit of tears and mixed emotions overwhelm me as I reflect upon my empty nest. I get sentimental thinking of them as my forever little girls. My husband often worries about the girls and bugs me of updates. I don’t normally ask for updates because I would rather they volunteer that information. I tell my husband to just keep praying.

All I can do now is pray every day. I let go of worrying. It has been said that “worrying is like praying for what you don’t want.” Let go and Let God is my motto.

I came across “The Power of a Praying Parent” and it reminds me about how a mother’s job is never done. Let me share that quote from Stormie Omatian:

Being a mother is the greatest of all privileges. And it is also the biggest of all responsibilities. It is the best of all jobs, while at the same time it is the most difficult of all jobs. Being a mother can bring you the highest joy. It can also cause the deepest pain. It can make you feel like a huge success when everything is going well. And cause you to feel like a failure when something goes wrong. I know this because in my nearly thirty years of being a mother, I have experienced all those things many times over. When I brought my first child home from the hospital a few days after he was born, I was painfully aware that I didn’t know what I was doing. So I turned desperately to God for help. Every day. Sometimes on an hourly basis!

Through that time of depending on God to show me the way, I discovered that God doesn’t want us to raise our children without His help. Of course He wants us to do our part and “train up a child in the way he should go”, but He also wants us to look to Him to give us the wisdom, strength, and ability we need to do the job well. One of the most important parts of our job as a parent is to keep our children covered in prayer.

I believe that being a parent is becoming more and more difficult each year because of what our children are exposed to and bombarded with everywhere they turn. But we don’t have to be worried sick, dreading what is around the corner, or fearing the worst. We don’t have to be tossed to and fro by every new stage and age and trend and fad. We have the power to make a big difference in our children’s lives through prayer. That doesn’t mean we abdicate our responsibilities as parents. It means we partner with God to raise our children as we pray for every aspect of their lives. When we don’t pray for them, we leave our children’s lives up to chance.

Praying for our children doesn’t mean that nothing will ever go wrong in their lives. But when it does, we don’t have to beat ourselves up for not being perfect parents. Besides, it’s not being a perfect parent that makes the difference in a child’s life, for there are no perfect parents. It’s being a praying parent that makes a big difference. And that’s something we can all be.”

No one is a perfect parent but we can all be a praying parent. I am aware of my failures in the past and I pray my children will count the times I picked up myself from the rubble and never went back.

Our two daughters will always be home.

And my Luijoe, of course. They live with us, in our hearts.

I will be constantly reminded that my children will always be in my heart because home is where the heart is . With the help of prayers, I know they will be safe , loved and full of energy to realize their goals in life.

25Mar 2016

Luijoe, my son and The Seven Last Words

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 9 Comments

Luijoe meadow somewhere in the North, where his grandparents live today

The Holy Week is one of the most memorable time of the year. Being a “cafeteria Catholic” my religious faith is at best mediocre. Luijoe, my innocent and religious 6 year old son often chastised me for not praying hard enough .

Painting on the wall of Church of Holy Sacrifice, UP Campus

I felt like a terrible mother who led a ho-hum religious existence. Gosh, we learn so much from our children , don’t we? It is the Holy Week which reminds me of my son. The image of the dying Jesus when he blurted out “Woman, behold thy son, Behold thy mother” struck a chord in my son’s heart.

Luijoe photo taken at Luijoe meadow during Holy Week 2000

Every night, Luijoe pointed to that image asking me over and over again what it meant. He pointed to John the Beloved “Who is he? How is he related to the Mother of Jesus?” Strange he asked about John. I cuddled Luijoe in my arms and explained that the dying Jesus wanted John the Beloved to take care of his grieving mother. How was I to know that my own son would die the following weeks? During the funeral, I remember those last words and took it literally to mean that my family or my friends would take care of me in my bereavement, that there would be “John the Beloved” who will help me.

When a death as devastating as the loss of a child hits you, one tries to find meaning. One tries to make sense out of it. The time came when I realized that those last words were not about me. It was about me helping those who are in pain , because the grief journey is not easy. My son made sure that I would not be alone in this journey as long as I continue to help others. He made sure I remember to be the “John the Beloved” and be compassionate to other people’s pain.

I look back and reflect on that poignant scene. It is my son’s way of reminding me that I will find comfort and still be a comfort to others:

He who was nailed to the cross, wanted to spare His mother further pain, not only for that moment, but for her entire future. He put her in the care of the apostle whom ““He loved” and whom He knew would care for her in return. Even as Jesus was dying, He went beyond himself to addresses someone else’s need.

Luijoe meadow at night, taken by Sean, my brother-in-law 2010 Christmas day

The Seven Last Words remind me of my son who died so young yet I know he continues to live in me through my work, my actions and devotion. Luijoe is with me everyday.

Here is something soothing:
Mozart Ave Verum Corpus por Leonard Bernstein

19Oct 2015

It’s been 40 years since my mom died of breast cancer

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 28 Comments

It was a warm Sunday afternoon in 1972 as mom and I were taking a siesta by the porch. I still remember that fateful day when mom anxiously took my hand so I could feel the lump in her left breast. I felt the soft mass but I had no inkling that it was cancer then. Cancer does not happen to us. It’s an illness we just hear from other families like my next door neighbor who survived it anyway. I quickly erased the negative thoughts from my mind. Mom got operated that same week and it wasn’t good news. Her left breast had to be removed including part of her armpits where cancer cells invaded her lymph nodes.

Physical Therapy, radiation, chemotherapy, hair loss, a dozen wigs, remission, a relapse, a trip to New York to visit Betty Ford’s doctor, a visit to Lourdes, France for miracle water, black chickens for sacrifice, aphasia ensued for the next 3 years. Despite all the measures, mom died on July 25, 1976 at the age of 45 years old. I was on my third year of college in UP Diliman and together with my siblings, Lorna and Oscar, we took the plane to Cebu. I peered down the runway as the raindrops splashed the glass window as if in unison with the tears that fell down my cheeks. I was sad that my mom was probably dying and even sadder at the thought that my dad would suffer the pain of losing a wife. I wasn’t particularly close to my mother. Years of verbal and even physical abuse brought that awkward distance between us. Yes, it’s sad I didn’t feel maternal love from her. And vice-versa.

During the wake, we were told by the family doctor never to take birth control pills as it could trigger breast cancer cells. I forgot the reason behind this now.

Years later, I became a mother myself. A friend was dying of breast cancer. A worried Butch implored that I take a breast exam to rule out any breast cancer which could be in our genes. I was only 39 years old and I thought maybe I should take that mammogram before I hit 40 years old at about the time mom discovered the lump.

I took that painful mammogram test where the machine squashes your breast as it takes an x-ray. The results were not good. I quickly called David, my brother who was then a neurology resident at some medical school in the Philippines (the University of the Philippines-Philippine General Hospital (UP-PGH) ).
There was some hazy mass showing up on my left breast which was not palpable. It’s the same spot where mom had the lump. David strongly advised me to have immediate surgery to have it checked if it was benign or not. My brother said that breast cancer cells can be so aggressive and can quickly replicate in a few weeks. Shocked at two doctors’ medical opinion, I told myself that I cannot die now. Not when my kids are still so young. Lauren was only 10. M was 9 and Luijoe was 3 years old.

No, I cannot die yet.

I cried in bed and my thoughts went to my mom during the days she suffered from the ravages of her breast cancer. I imagined her in the same situation , livid with fear of leaving my young kids and husband. Then I prayed and asked for forgiveness and understanding for all those years that we drifted apart. Bearing a grudge or deep resentment on someone is like cancer cells eating up your heart and mind. With the release of negative emotions of the past, I was ready for my surgery but first I took the day off before surgery to be with my kids at the play center in the mall. Thinking I might die on the operating table, I held on to these precious moments by having a fun photo shoot with my kids. I thought with a heavy heart .

They will look back to these memories and remember that their mom loved them so much.

I surrounded my hospital room at the Philippine General Hospital with these photos. Just before I left for the surgery, I gazed lovingly at the photo of my three beautiful children.

I can’t leave you yet. God, don’t let me die.

I needed a needle localization of my “breast mass” because it was not palpable and my surgeon need to know the exact location of this mass. With the long needle stabbed on to my left breast, my brother wheeled me over to the surgery room. There waiting for me was an outstanding surgeon, Dr. Rodney Dofitas, my brother-in-law. I gave instructions for him to remove my breast if found to be malignant. With everything in order I counted to ten as I fought back the anesthesia to kick in

Much later, I woke up to my brother-in-law who cheerfully announced that the breast mass was benign. He excised the mass for extra precaution, hence my left breast is a smaller than my right one. I don’t mind the disfigurement at all.

My heart just leaped with joy. I couldn’t help but cry and thank God for giving me this second chance. My friend died a year after my surgery. When I reached my 46th birthday, I thanked God for each additional year in my life that my mom didn’t enjoy. I celebrate each year with joy and gratitude that my kids still had a mother in their growing up years. Every additional year is a bonus.

It’s been 40 years since my mom died of breast cancer and technology for early breast cancer detection is in place. Even the medications increase chances of survival. There is even breast reconstruction surgery. Talk to your doctor soon.

Go Pink in Support of Breast Cancer Awareness. National Breast Cancer Awareness Month is dedicated to increasing awareness of the importance of early breast cancer detection.

Photo above was taken a few months before mom discovered her breast cancer in 1972

10Aug 2015

Cord Blood Banking, just like insurance for your child & 3 generations of your family

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 1 Comment

Sixteen long years have passed and I miss my brother so much. It was in August of 1996 that Oscar , my brother was first diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia, or AML-M4. My family worked very hard to support Oscar in his search for a cure, spanning hours and hours of research and inquiries through the internet and electronic mail. The technological advantage resulted in many blessings, especially when he qualified for a clinical trial in the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, Maryland. Oscar made the brave choice to undergo a stem cell transplant, knowing that there was a 50-50 chance he would survive, and that he had to take that risk. It was his second remission. Still, our family remained optimistic. My youngest sister was a perfect match.

My brother at National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute, Bethesda, 1999

The stem cell transplant NIH, Bethesda, Maryland was a success but infection set in. Oscar died a few months after his stem cell transplant. Perhaps, my brother helped pave the way for stem cell therapy today.

Just before Oscar died, he told me “I am glad we didn’t have to spend all our inheritance”. The clinical trial in NIH was totally free except for board and lodging including plane fare. There was an option to go to Singapore and Israel but it would cost us 10 million pesos. You will have to remember that stem cell transplant was still so new then.

My brother’s struggle with leukemia, the stem cell transplant is one reason I want to share this new discovery.

Banking baby’s cord blood

I got to attend a forum about the CordLife Medical Philippines Inc. and it offers hope to those with history of cancers and other illnesses in the family. Cord Life is a private cord blood banking facility provides a full suite of cord blood and tissue banking services including the collection, processing, testing, and cryo-preservation of cord blood stem cells and tissue. When I speak of stem cells, I am not referring to controversial stem cell therapy from sheep or embryos. Cord blood is a rich source of Hematopoietic Stem cells (HSCs) which are responsible for replenishing blood and regenerating the immune system.

The list of stem cell treatable diseases continues to grow at a rapid pace and parents may want to consider saving cord blood stem cells of their baby . As a parent, we want to protect our family. At your baby’s birth, you have the unique opportunity to safeguard the health of the ones you love by storing your newborn child’s cord blood stem cells. Though there is literature on “Why Save Cord Blood?” , it would help if a doctor would explain the importance of stem cell treatment. There are a wide range of diseases that are treatable with stem cells derived from cord blood and other sources of similar type of stem cells (Haematopoietic Stem Cell), like bone marrow and peripheral blood, including stem cell disorders, acute and chronic forms of leukemia, myeloproliferative disorders, and many more.

I will not explain anymore on the importance of stem cell treatment but you can read more about it from Makati Medical Center’s work on stem cell technology . (Makati Med is an active member of the International Society for Cellular Therapy (ISCT), a professional association that provides scientific and technical support for laboratories engaged in cellular therapy. It is also actively engaged in prospective clinical trials with US-based companies.)

Why store your baby’s cord blood?

If you could protect your newborn baby against these diseases in the future, would you do so? Why consider?

There are ten reasons to store your baby’s cord blood:

1. a biological protection for the whole family.
2. 100% match for your baby
3. Can treat more than 80 diseases including leukemia and lymphona
4. Benefit from future emerging treatments
5. Exclusive use for your family
6. Painless and risk-free to the baby and mother
7. Once-in-a-lifetime chance to collect
8. Higher chance to match vs. bone marrow transplants
9. Lower rejection rate in transplant
10. Peace of mind- immediate availability

The decision has to be made before the birth because the cord blood has to be stored right away after giving birth. You never know when you might need it or not. You wish you would never have to use it but at least you have something to go back to. Just like insurance.

Imagine, the possibility of looking for an exact match. It costs $30,000 and one has to be waitlisted for as long as two years. I know it might not seem so important to some parents but you might be more convinced if some of the conditions are true to you.

1. History of cancer
2. Cardiac problems
3. Difficulty having children (because getting a stem cell match might be more difficult. Out of 5 siblings, only 1 of us was a perfect match)
4. Mixed race have a unique genetic combination.

CordBlood Network protecting 3 generations

Unlike other cord blood banks that provide basic cord blood banking for only your child, CordBlood Network, a Cordlife initiated programme will assist in the search for a matching cord blood unit should the need arise for your child, his/her legal guardians and maternal and paternal grandparents. With the CordBlood Network, you can now protect three generations of your family by storing your baby’s cord blood with Cordlife.

Storing your baby’s cord blood is a means of protecting the health of your child now,and into the future including your family . Of all the decisions a parent can make for their children , choosing to store their cord blood could turn out to be the most important. You can find out the different payment modes to fit your family budget.

Before checking out Cordlife , consult with your doctor to understand more about stem cell therapy and Cord Blood Banking.

Visit their website http://www.cordlife.com/ph/ to know more about Cord Blood Banking or contact them at (02) 470-1735/332 1888 or email info@ph.cordlife.com

11Apr 2015

National siblings day: We know each other’s hearts

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 20 Comments

Once upon a time, seven siblings lived in an almost perfect world with a strict mom and a loving dad. It seemed almost perfect because the seven siblings played and laughed day in and day out. They were each other’s best friends. Their mother did not allow them to play with the neighbors because she wanted them to be close to each other.

That perfect world started to crumble when the mother died from breast cancer complications in 1976. Life was not the same without a motherly touch but their dad pulled it off so well. He became their mom and a dad at the same time. In 1990, the siblings decided to have a family reunion because they felt their dad was going to die anytime soon. Two siblings were already in America at that time and it was going to be the first time to see each other in years.

Shortly after, the 27 year old brother, Reuben died of fulminant Hepatitis A. Health authorities discovered that there was a Hepatitis A epidemic in their area about the time of the reunion. What perfect timing for the Hepatitis A virus! It seemed an evil witch carried a poisoned apple during their party. Four other siblings including Lauren suffered from Hepatitis A. They filed a case against Metro Cebu Water District (MCWD) and won the case 12 years later.

In 1999, a 40 year old brother, Oscar died of leukemia (AML- 6) after an unsuccessful stem cell transplant in Bethesda, Maryland.

Perhaps grief overtook their father after witnessing the deaths of his two sons and his wife. A parent should not have to bury a son. After burying Oscar, the dad collapsed, had surgery and became bedridden by the time of his death in 2003.

Only 5 siblings are left. Four sisters and One brother.

That is the brief story of the deaths in my family (aside from my son). Three of them are now living outside the Philippines while my other sister lives in Manila. During the past years, reunions centered upon the burying of the dead or dying. Does it have to be so? For me, I needed to be with my siblings because they are all I have left of my childhood, where I learned the gift of laughter, music, and service to community.
When all of these deaths fell upon my family some priest suggested the ““Healing of the Family Tree” and gave me a prayer. Each night, I was to recite this prayer hoping in the belief that the curse of family deaths would end. I didn’t believe in it. Instead, healing should begin in each one of us.

We heal our family trees primarily by changing ourselves to be better persons, even much better than our ancestors could ever be. We heal our family trees by taking care of our health so our predisposition to certain genetic diseases will be curtailed. We heal our family trees by receiving a new nature through total commitment to God . Secondly, we heal our family trees by repentance and healing. The change starts in us. Healing starts in us. It was time to stop looking back at the past and move forward now.

And that’s what we all did. I am proud of each of my siblings who have made it their life’s mission to volunteer, engage in civic duties, or do pioneer medical research to our respective community. I won’t toot their horns on this because we are only answerable to God.

I visited my siblings in the US just to be with them, to laugh, to reminisce, to just be. Despite the deaths in our family, we, the five siblings felt life is too short to be bitter over the deaths in our family. What better time to reunite during happier times.

What does do good is doing good. For every action we take, the world is changed in some small way for the better, and then the actions taken become our living tribute to our loved ones. And then my siblings and parents are never entirely gone. They live in our actions.

I love my family.

And one day..the family of seven siblings and their mom and dad will be reunited together again in God’s time.

“To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.” ~Clara Ortega

04Apr 2015

My brother’s battle with Leukemia

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 13 Comments

April 3 is the 16th death anniversary of my younger brother, Oscar. He died from a failed stem cell transplant. He was only 40 years old. Oscar was diagnosed with Acute myeloid leukemia (AML-M4) on September 1, 1996. Getting sick of leukemia is a logistical nightmare especially if one is looking for blood type AB donors.

A caricature of my brother in 1982 when he managed our bakeshop, Sally’s Home Bake Shop

Our family worked diligently to support Oscar in his search for a cure, spanning hours and hours of research and inquiries through the internet and electronic mail. Research revealed that Oscar needed a stem cell transplant upon remission but unfortunately, he relapsed before we found a hospital within our budget. Cost of stem cell transplant ranged from 7 to 20 million pesos in 1998. The cheapest transplant was in Israel. To raise funds for his transplant, we put one of our properties for sale.

Fortunately, Oscar was eligible to participate in a Clinical trial at the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute (NHLBI) in Bethesda, Maryland. My sister’s friend who worked in that institute informed us of the clinical trial which was already in Phase 3. This phase is the second to the last step prior to making it a protocol among doctors. The stem cell transplant , medicines and hospitalization were free. Luck was also on our side because my sibling-doctor was an exact tissue match. The hospital required us to raise money for his board and lodging outside the hospital. Total budget for the 6 month stay was estimated to reach only 600 thousand pesos. Everything seemed perfect.

Oscar made the brave choice to undergo a stem cell transplant, knowing that there was a 50-50 chance he would survive, and that he had to take that risk. (View videotape of his reflections after the transplant )

The stem cells never had a chance to grow because of sepsis. After 6 months in NHLBI, the doctors sadly announced that he had to return to the Philippines. I guess the doctors decided they couldn’t do anything for him so they sent him home. Oscar, thin and black from the radiation treatment arrived on March 29, 1999. I held his frail hand and prayed quietly that God deliver him from his pain.

He smiled at me ” At least, we did not have to spend our inheritance to pay for my treatment”

We talked until he was tired. Knowing his days were numbered, I slept beside him that night .

Oscar held on to the hope that there was a chance to recover . Inspite of his optimism, he prepared for his death. He videotaped instructions for his two sons on how to run his lechon business, deposited college funds , dictated his last will and testament and discussed other matters.

On April 3, 1999, Oscar suffered a brain hemorrhage and died a few hours later.

When a sibling dies, all future special occasions will be forever changed. There will be no more shared birthday celebrations, anniversaries, or holidays. There will be no telephone calls telling of the milestones of a nephew or niece. The sharing of life’s unique and special events will never again take place.

In tribute to the memory of my brother, I created a memorial site which includes midi files of his compositions and some photos and legacies. I can just hear him playing his award-winning musical piece, Pangarap ng Musmos which is now a church song. Oscar is having a blast playing the piano with my son, my mom, dad and Ruben, another brother in heaven.

24Dec 2014

The Christmas letter my daughter wrote 10 years ago, that changed my life.

by Noemi Lardizabal-Dado ⋅ 1 Comment

Early this year, I cleared up all the junk that was piling at home. Lying beneath all that clutter , I spotted this special Christmas card, that my daughter gave me on December 24, 2004. Yes, exactly 10 years ago. I clearly remember myself 10 years ago. I was like a zombie, grief stricken from the loss of my beloved son and avoided social contact with friends and relatives, except immediate family. It had been four years since my son died but still, I felt I was holed up in the deepest pit, trying to find the light that would bring me to a new normal. I was borderline obese and ugly. Not only that, I was a controlling mother and an indifferent wife. So, when I read Lauren’s greeting card, I suddenly saw a tiny ray of light…and felt a knot in my throat. GUILT.

With my daughter’s permission, I am copying the contents of her beautiful letter. So wise beyond her 18 years, I want you to read it for yourself:

December 24, 2004

Dearest Mom,

I thought I’d write you a short Christmas letter as a token of my gratitude for everything that you’ve done for me. I mean, you’ve done so much for me and…. and Dad and you put so much effort into making holidays like this memorable and magical for all of us. You’ve done a wonderful job and I appreciate it very much.

I see you do so many things for us, and sometimes I wonder if you do anything for yourself. It’s okay for you to take care of us but I think you need to take more care of yourself. I guess I’m a bit worried about what you will do with your life after M and I leave the nest. I think it would be nice for you to go out once in a while, relax and just have fun and not attend to family duties. Take a break and be yourself.

I guess the reason why I’m telling you this is because even if I don’t show it very often, I do love you and I am concerned about you, I want you to be happy , and I want to know if you will be all right two or three years from now when I go off and start my own life.

You and I are very different from one another and I hope you understand that even though I’d like to do everything you ask of me, I’m my own person too. And sometimes I do things not so I could piss you off, but because it’s something I want for myself. And while I know you are constantly worried about me because it’s your job to, I thought I’d let you know that I’m going to be just fine.

Merry Christmas , Mom. I love you.

Love from

Your daughter, Lauren

When I showed Lauren this letter , I asked her how I turned out…10 years after. Did I pass the mark?

“I guess”, my wise daughter nods.

Here are a few things I did the following year:

2005

– Finally gave my daughter the approval to continue the relationship with someone I did not approve

– Enrolled at Fitness First to lose excess weight

– gave my husband an ultimatum, to shape up or our marriage is over

– Co-founded the grief support group for bereaved parents, The Compassionate friends in December 2005

2006

– started this blog

I believe I am taking care of myself more than I did 10 years ago. I lost all those excess pounds. I feel pretty oh so pretty. My social life and career as a mom blogger and citizen advocate make life so worth living. I also believe I am a better person than I was ten years ago. Yes, my home is now an empty nest and it gets lonely at times but I found something to be busy with– working for the future of this country.I want to make a difference in my children’s lives by making a difference in the world. And I have four cats to keep me company aside from my husband. I hope my daughters are proud of me because I am proud of myself. I hope they will count the times I worked hard to attain this new normal than those times I fell in that pit.

Being a mother can be the greatest opportunity for growth. Our children show us possibilities , that there is a new world out there. The struggle to be our best “when the stakes are so high offers us a chance to be introspective and explore ideas we might not have ever considered.” I encourage parents to explore these possibilities and integrate everything our children are trying to teach us. We learn so much from them.

Thank you, my dear daughters for raising your mother well.

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