Of miraculous pills and worn hearts

Photo by Amanda Jones on Unsplash

Whenever I got sick as a kid, my mother would make a simple medicine concoction. She would crush a half of Biogesic in a spoon. To neutralize its bitterness, a teaspoon of sugar would be added. To make it easier to swallow, the dry ingredients would be dissolved by adding a teaspoon of water. It worked like magic, minus the initial retching as the bitter taste would hit my palette first. 

If only things were easier as before.

January 4, 2017 – A few days after New Year’s, my sister paid us a visit in the hospital. She was in a rather festive mood. She came in bringing with her bottles of USANA. Pretending to be interested, I went through all the bottles.

“Ma, ningpalit ko ug ing-ani,” she grabbed a bottle from my hand, “para mu-ok na ka.”

But mama was already taking handfuls of medicine, I thought.

“Naa ko’y kaila nga ang iyang daddy kay naay cancer. After pila ka months ug tomar naayo iya sakit,” my sister explained, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

“Sige, pakaunon sa nato si mama before siya muinom,” I suggested.

After taking her last after-lunch pill, I took out one tablet from each bottle. Most of the it were the size of a thumb. My mother’s forehead creased at the sight of the “miracle tablets."

“Here we go again,” read the text above her head.

I know, ma. I know. 

Needles didn’t faze my mother. But overtime, a different aversion developed. Ingesting became difficult for her. Four spoonfuls of papaya and she’d be full. Four pills in and she’d become queasy. It was her least favorite activity, one I found most challenging and frustrating.

She spat the first tablet on her first attempt. We tried again and failed. Mama couldn’t do it. We crushed the tablet and coaxed mama into taking it. She regurgitated some afterwards.

“Di na ko, toy,” she handed me the clump from her bony hands.

"Ma, i-take na siya," my sister pleaded tearfully.

Her ostentatious mood evaporated as the regurgitated clump fell into the trash can. 

"I believe mao ni ang gamiton ni God para maayo ka.”

My mother looked at her vacantly, trying to process many things at once. 

She was trying so hard, my mother. But she could only ingest so much.

In the end she only swallowed the smallest pill from the bunch.

"Ako i-try ipainom niya te," I consoled my sister who looked defeated while she prepared to leave.

"Pero kung di niya kaya, ako nalang im-non. Sayang man gud kung di magamit," I joked.

"Pray lang ta toy," my sister said as I accompanied her out of the hospital.

"Oo, uy. Every day baya ko magpray,” I responded, hoping to ease my sister’s fears.

If only things were easier as before.