Rainbow

Unbelievable! I saw a rainbow today.

Doubly unbelievable! I saw a rainbow today arching over Makati.

I was feeling a bit anxious again about my wife’s pregnancy. We had our regular visit yesterday to our immunologist. The blood test results indicated no infection. But Aires’ antibodies are still on overdrive, suggesting continuous rejection of the pregnancy. To add insult to injury, our doctor revealed that Aires inherited a mutated gene from both her mother and father that makes her blood prone to clotting. The only way to control this during the pregnancy is to increase her current dosage of heparin (an anti-coagulant). From 1 cc per shot twice a day to 1.5 cc per shot twice a day. From a small regular syringe and short needle to a stouter one with a longer needle.

Syringes and needles were in my head when I saw the ROYGBIV. Only the rainbow’s ends were visible over Makati. The whole arc was hidden by the city’s smog. But those short curves were bright enough to snap me out of my melancholy.

Rainbows do appear after the rain. We all have our own rainbows. They just come in different colors, sizes, and surprises. It’s a stunning red when you finally finish a report good enough to secure a funding donation. It’s a bright orange when you finally find a document that has long been missing. It’s an effervescent yellow when you get that promotion you’ve worked so hard for. It’s a lush green when you get a vacation leave approved. It’s an immaculate blue when you get people to agree with you. It’s a unique indigo when a satisfied colleague or client says thanks to you. It’s a vivacious violet when you learn that you will be a father soon.

I have started counting my blessings early this year. Instead of moping and sulking about unfinished tasks and imperfect outputs, I watch out for small wins. Like the blood clot that is now under control, like the heartbeat of our baby, like the infection-free blood test results, and like the next day that brings us closer to the next week.

Just look up. Your own rainbow may just be over you.

Ask, seek, knock

"Ask and you will receive. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you." (Matthew 7:7)

For this is the power of prayer.

And so we asked, sought, and knocked on His door. We prayed really hard. Let the clot in the uterus decrease. (Medically, it is called a subchorionic hematoma.) Stop it from encroaching into our baby's life support system inside the womb of Aires. Do not let it reach the source of our child's nourishment. Moderate its greed.

We went to our gynecologist to see how the baby is doing. We waited almost two hours for our turn. Aires was anxious. She clutched her rosary and prayed for yet another miracle. If the clot grew, Aires would be admitted to the hospital anew for an emergency intravenous immunoglobulin treatment. She would receive 50 grams of an intravenous drug that would temper her natural killer cells --- her defense system that has kept rejecting this pregnancy. This treatment normally lasts for more than 10 hours.

If the clot did not grow nor shrink, we would need to do another ultrasound after three or so days.

If the clot got reduced, Aires and the baby would be out of danger.

The ultrasound results came out. We heard our doctor say: "The clot has organized." We did not know at first what she meant. In plain speak, it meant that the clot shrunk and no fluid was seen near the baby. It simply meant that God once again answered our prayers.

It is now up to us to do rest.

Joke... joke... joke!!!

Today, I said sorry to a colleague for a joke I made a few days ago.

I gave a very animated presentation. But before I went straight to my presentation, I tried to write albeit spontaneously in my mind a big bang opening. It was a joke about how excellent the local codes for children of Davao and Bohol were that other local government units copied them word for word. I said the joke in front of my officemates, knowing that it would bring the house down. Everybody indeed laughed. But somebody in the crowd took offense. The joke was not about her. It was about two provinces that were very far from where we were. But the joke hit her hard. Helping governments craft local codes was her project after all.

My colleague confronted me after my presentation. I said sorry then. I did not mean to put her project in a bad light. And I said sorry again earlier today.

This week, a local governor said a joke about the President. He called her the “luckiest bitch.” His remark became the global quip of the day. The opposition saw the opportunity to argue that even the President’s allies have a low regard for her.

In last week’s televised confrontation between ZTE-NBN witness Jun Lozada and the President’s men, Jun joked about feeling like a contestant in the TV game show, One vs 100. He also joked about the President’s men wearing suits while he was only in a white shirt. The President’s men were offended, saying that their coats and ties had nothing to do with the issue at hand.

I said sorry to my colleague. The governor said sorry to the President. Jun did not say sorry to the President’s men.

We say sorry for having blurted out jokes if we do not mean to offend. We do not say sorry when the jokes are meant to be, as a saying goes, half-truths. Hillary Clinton did not say sorry when she called Barrack Obama’s campaign a “change copied from Xerox.”

But if I were the President, I would be really furious if I were called a bitch.

Whistleblower to the whistleblower

Just before Erwin Santos confessed about Jun Lozada's shady practices in the Philippine Forest Corporation, he called Jun his friend. His eyes flickered. He paused for a second. His tears began to fall.

The camera slowly zoomed in, close enough to capture that one drop, crossing Erwin's cheek. If it weren't for the words etched at the corner of the screen (LIVE NEWS), I would have thought I was watching another soap opera.

The show is called Boses (The Voice). It aired amidst normal TV programming and was bannered as an important announcement. It aired, (Surprise! Surprise!), only on the government-controlled TV stations.

Erwin said he had nothing to gain. He simply wanted to tell the truth. What was his information? It took him almost an hour to share his story. At the end of it all, it all boiled down to this --- that Jun as PhilForest head practiced nepotism (Jun assigned a younger brother a supervisory post in the company), and defied procurement regulations (Jun arbitrarily awarded hectares of government land for farming to allegedly 20-30 friends or relatives).

Erwin admitted that he was hurt when Jun called him Judas for allegedly turning over critical documents to the National Bureau of Investigation. But he was not doing this confession to get back at Jun. He was doing this for the truth.

Erwin was interrogated by "Kuya Mario". I do not know anything about this Mario guy but if the government hopes to make Erwin the whistleblower to the whistleblower, the TV set up should have been different. Sure, Kuya Mario has the broadcast voice but his questioning was aggressive. He sounded that he was ready to pounce on Erwin, and pulverize him to smitherins.

A TV screen was in the background, showing the title card of "Boses". A series of silhouttes acts as the title card's branding. The use of silhouttes evokes anonymity. It appears shady to say the least. Which is what Erwin's whistleblowing sends accross --- simply shady. Close-up please.

The drive home

How many times have I driven home as if travelling through the Twilight Zone?

I see the road. I see other cars. I see other people going home. I am also going home. But I seem to be heading somewhere else. My mind floats. I think in pictures. Stories and what-if scenes fill my head.

This happens usually when I am troubled.

I feel anxious about my wife's pregnancy. Aires is now almost 10 weeks into her pregnancy. Our child is now officially a fetus. The heartbeat is amazingly fast at 190 beats per minute. The fetus is okay.

But there is a slight problem. The ultrasound shows a formation of a hemorrhage between the lining of the uterus and the sac that protects the fetus. This is called a subchorionic hemorrhage. The formation is actually a collection of dead tissue cells. It is officially a blood clot. If the clot crosses the placenta that provides nutrition to the fetus, the baby will be in danger.

Now there is nothing slight about this problem at all. This new information is troubling. Aires has been put on a strict bed rest regimen. She may need to undergo another round of immune therapy treatment to reduce the clotting.

All these got me a trip to Twilight Zone. The drive home on that day we learnt about this subchorionic hemorrhage was eerily long and slow. Just like this journey of hope. Long and slow.

Dear God... Help us get home safely.

Touch me not

In 1886, Filipino national hero, Jose Rizal, wrote the novel, Noli Me Tangere and sparked a revolution. The title may be translated in Filipino as Huwag Mo Akong Salingin. In English, Touch Me Not.

In 2006, American inventor, Jeffrey Han showed his digital technology to the world and sparked a revolution in media reporting and forecasting. This time, it is all about touching.

Computer whiz Han perfected a multi-point interactive touch-screen technology and sold it to CNN in 2007. This year, CNN unveiled its “Magic Wall”, a giant TV screen showing graphs, charts, maps, and data on the ongoing American election. Think of it as a really big iTouch. CNN anchor John King navigated the screen with his fingers. He adjusted pie charts, zoomed in and out of a map from a country view down to household clusters, and made bold predictions on who is leading and who is trailing behind.

This is indeed the power of information at your fingertips.

Han’s company Perceptive Pixel developed this technology called the Multi-Touch Collaboration Wall, after years of research. Han was a researcher at the New York University. A simpler version of the Magic Wall is available for US$ 100,000.00.

The multi-touch technique finds its roots in 1982 with multi-touch tablets and screens. Apple tried to register the word multi-touch as part of the iPhone trademark in 2007.

It took over two decades before the multi-touch technology gained its rightful place in our computer era. Thanks to a very young researcher named Jeffrey Han.

Jose Rizal's Noli started the downfall of the Spanish reign in the Philippines. Whose reign will end with Jeffrey Han's Magic Wall?

Blow your whistle

When it comes to whistling, I am a late bloomer.

No matter how hard I tried to blow through my pucked lips, no sound would come out. One of my brothers once joked that all I needed to do was to blow a whistle to learn to whistle.

The word "whistleblowers" used to describe British cops who would blow their whistles upon seeing someone committing an offense. Today, the word refers to those who expose an anomaly in organizations or governments.

Whistleblowers played crucial roles in history. Watergate. Enron. Pfizer. Washington sex scandal. Those who blew the whistle so to speak became celebrated. In the Philippines, whistleblowers are commonly looked with suspicion. Mary Rosebud Ong spilled the beans on Senator Ping Lacson, and did not get any product endorsement. Acsa Ramirez, a lowly cashier, implicated Landbank executives in a multi-million tax diversion scam and was named a suspect by no less than the President herself. (She was acquitted a year later.) Ilocos governor Chavit Singson's testimony on Jueteng-gate led to Estrada's downfall but his heroics failed to win him a seat in the Senate.

Whistleblowers in the Philippines are often pictured as lacking in credibility. They are considered traitors, sourgrapes, and equally guilty of the offenses they exposed.

Strangely, though, ZTE-NBN scandal whistleblower Rodolfo Noel "Jun" Lozada, Jr. appears to be gaining what other whistleblowers failed to achieve. Credibility in the eyes of media. Therefore, credibility in the eyes of the public.

He may have achieved this status because of his consistent, unshakeable statements. "Paulit-ulit na po tayo. Pero uulitin ko pa rin po." His meek countenance and his unabashed crying bouts. "Ayoko na pong umiyak." His humble remarks. "Ako po ay isang promding Instik." His witty retorts. "Hindi ko po alam kung bakit pilit akong kinakabit kay Joey (De Venecia). Ang tanging pagkakatulad lang namin ay pareho kaming nakakalbo na." He presented himself as somebody who is not clean, who has done wrongdoings, who has a genuine fear for his life, who has nothing to gain, who did not want his life to be disrupted, who cannot tell a lie under oath.

The Senate blue ribbon committee investigation had a totally different ambiance with Jun Lozada around. The Senators appeared sympathetic. Those who tried to rattle Lozada like Enrile and Santiago were generally courteous. Only Joker (who happens to share the President's surname) lost his cool with Lozada.

This drama will continue to unfold and hug airtime and print space. The plot will thicken and have its twists and turns. Is he a sinner or a saint? A hero or just simply stupid? Will his story aid legislation? What laws will come out of this investigation? Will we finally have a Whistleblower Protection Act?

Or will Lozada's whistleblowing be like mine? Timid. Futile. Simply ka-pffft.

(For an interesting read on whistleblowing in the Philippines: http://www.rvr.aim.edu.ph/quartely%20report/mcravol18.pdf)

Type "O"

I used to be hemophobic. I cringed at the sight of blood, real or reel. Truly, unmanly, you may say. Blood was my Kryptonite.

But, when my wife, Aires, needed white blood cells for her lymphocyte immune therapy treatment. I became more than a man. I was Superman. Aires was my Lois Lane.

I can now look at this life-giving substance called "blood" without feeling dizzy or nauseous. Knowing that my own blood will save Aires and the growing life in her womb, in an instant, changed how I looked at this bodily fluid.

Human blood is technically a tissue. Understanding what it is made up of allows me to appreciate this wonder. Plasma, red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets --- all can still be broken down into proteins, salt, and of course, oxygen. All these make up human blood.

The way we look at things changes because of the context (My wife is pregnant), the motivation (Donating my blood will make this pregnancy a success), and newfound knowledge (Blood is a complex substance that is life-saving).

As an Irish hero once said, "Blood is a cleansing and sanctifying thing."

My blood type, by the way, is "O".

Miracle baby

I believe in dreams. I believe in miracles.

My wife and I learnt that she was finally pregnant. We had been trying for the last six years. The news came unexpectedly. It took Aires two pregnancy kits to believe. It took me just one. Just one look at the second strip of pink of the first tester --- I believed.

This is a difficult pregnancy. Aires had to stay home, away from crowds. Pills and injections everyday. She knows that this is one chance we cannot just take to chance.

We did everything. She went under the knife. So did I. She took fertility pills. I had my vitamins. We prayed a lot. We danced in Obando. We went to pilgrims. Always believing. Never losing hope.

We are still doing everything to keep this pregnancy going. Our baby will be born in August. We know that he or she will be one healthy baby. To others like us, believe. In dreams. In miracles.