Wipe Out
This is the moment when part of my country was ravaged by calamity, my dear friends soon to lose their jobs and my father is at higher risk of disability, or death.
The feeling is just inexplicable. To simplify, it's depressing.
I was stranded in Santa Isabel when Ondoy struck Metro Manila, without electricity, without power. I had nothing heroic to do but to save the pianos in the music department, unknowing that outside was a greater disaster. Hundreds died and millions lost their property, their security.
Before Ondoy, I was told of the drastic climate change from where I worked. A lot of jobs will be lost in several health projects because of an alleged corruption, or misuse of fund, of one institution. I was also told how unstable the health system is when international funds offered absolute dependency and prematurely take their money away, leaving some but important health services paralyzed. But what bothers me is the loss of jobs, jobs that in the first place were never permanent. I could have been a bit happier since I resigned months ago, but the sympathy is undeniable. And now, all will seem to disappear just like that.
And then my father. He was recently diagnosed to have a major stroke, although he seems well until now. We only found out when a family friend noticed my father's slight worsening in speech over the phone. I wouldn't know it sooner had I not received a forwarded e-mail from my aunt in Geneva, showing the communication between her and her MD classmate about my father's condition. My father's stroke is mysterious; we weren't quite sure why and how it happened. My father is attacked without my knowledge, stabbing me and my profession at the back.
Moving on is not that easy for me, just like many of us now.
The feeling is just inexplicable. To simplify, it's depressing.
I was stranded in Santa Isabel when Ondoy struck Metro Manila, without electricity, without power. I had nothing heroic to do but to save the pianos in the music department, unknowing that outside was a greater disaster. Hundreds died and millions lost their property, their security.
Before Ondoy, I was told of the drastic climate change from where I worked. A lot of jobs will be lost in several health projects because of an alleged corruption, or misuse of fund, of one institution. I was also told how unstable the health system is when international funds offered absolute dependency and prematurely take their money away, leaving some but important health services paralyzed. But what bothers me is the loss of jobs, jobs that in the first place were never permanent. I could have been a bit happier since I resigned months ago, but the sympathy is undeniable. And now, all will seem to disappear just like that.
And then my father. He was recently diagnosed to have a major stroke, although he seems well until now. We only found out when a family friend noticed my father's slight worsening in speech over the phone. I wouldn't know it sooner had I not received a forwarded e-mail from my aunt in Geneva, showing the communication between her and her MD classmate about my father's condition. My father's stroke is mysterious; we weren't quite sure why and how it happened. My father is attacked without my knowledge, stabbing me and my profession at the back.
Moving on is not that easy for me, just like many of us now.
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