Dengue kills

Here's forwarded e-mail from a friend. Natalie is the daughter of Ed Feist, a former client of Basic FCB and a good friend of my late father. My condolences and prayers to Mr. Feist and his family.

Many a grim tale has been told about the dreaded dengue. Here’s another one, as shared in an e-mail:

This evening, we attended the wake of Natalie Corrales Feist, only 17 years old. Her mother Rosa is the sister of Pilita Corrales and her father Ed Feist is the head of a big pharmaceutical company in Manila.

Natalie was studying in Australia and had come home to Manila to spend the Christmas holidays with her family. What started only as a stomachache progressed to malaise and fever that turned out to be the deadly dengue fever which snuffed out Natalie’s life in such a short time. Natalie was an only daughter and the youngest of three children. It was indeed so sad to witness the grief, the sadness, and the pain of losing such a wonderful daughter and so pretty at that. The priest saying Mass also mentioned about another young girl of 15 who also died recently.

A couple of years ago, my nephew who was only 28 years old and was to be married, also died within a short time after he contracted dengue. He was an only son.

Dengue kills. Let us not wait for it to get out of hand and claim more young lives. As my own small contribution to help increase people’s consciousness of this disease, allow me to share the warnings below. Many people are not aware that in their own homes, there are dangerous places where mosquitoes breed.

Please take note:

• The bromeliad plant has beautiful flowers, but they are deadly, because in between are pockets that collect clean water, which is where the dengue mosquitoes breed. If you have them, get rid of them or place them in pots so that after watering them, the pots can be turned over to remove the excess water. I have noticed that along Ayala Avenue in Makati and other roadsides, the bromeliads, which are very colorful, are often used by landscapers to brighten areas, etc.

The landscapers must be discouraged from using these plants, especially when they are planted in the ground, because they can cause an epidemic, as what happened in Cebu many years back. It was discovered that these plants were the culprits.

• Those that have bamboo fences placed over their concrete fences (as in many subdivisions) must see to it that the top is covered, because the bamboo crevices hold water and again become breeding places for dengue mosquitoes.
• I have just read on the Internet about a tip that was given at a recent gardening forum. Here it is:

Put some water in a white dinner plate (I suppose a small white platito will do) and add a couple of drops of Lemon Fresh Dish Washing Liquid. Set the dish on your porch, patio, picnic table, park bench, or other outdoor areas. I’m not sure what attracts them — the lemon’s smell, the white plate color, or what. But mosquitoes flock to it, and drop dead shortly after drinking the Lemon Fresh Dish Washing Liquid and water mixture and usually, within about 10 feet of the plate.

Try it, it works just super! It may seem trivial, but it may also help control mosquitoes around your home (especially in areas where the dengue- and malaria-carrying mosquitoes have reached epidemic proportions). It’s safer than mosquito coils ... no offensive odor and harmful fumes, no risk of fire.
This is all I can say, which may be helpful in controlling the rise of the deadly dengue mosquitoes. Let us all try to do our part in our own homes and surroundings, so that by doing so, we can lessen dengue’s breeding places and save more lives.

Isabel F. Guevara
Magallanes Village, Makati City

In sickness and in health (Part I)

Gabi has been sick on and off for the last couple of months.

It all started early December 2007. Patty, Gabi and I treated ourselves to a weekend stay in Renaissance Makati (formerly New World Hotel). It was our wedding anniversary and we had reason to celebrate. We originally wanted to run off to a beach resort. But just the thought of organizing the logistics of a road trip discouraged me from pursuing the sun and sand idea.

The Renaissance seemed like a good choice. It had broadband in every room so I was happy. It's right in front of Greenbelt and all the shops and restos we QCers hardly get a chance to visit and so Patty was happy. It had a nice pool ("Two pools, Papa!") so Gabi was happy.

I had a Plan. Everything was scheduled, down to the last minute. Patty was to drop me off in Jupiter St. for a 1:30 pm meeting, check-in at the Renaissance and then walk on over to Greenbelt 1 to buy tickets for that evening's performance of Repertory's Fiddler on the Roof. Dinner and drinks in Casa Armas was to be the night cap.

Gabi was to spend the night in his Wowa's house and follow first thing the next morning. After buffet breakfast, we were to spend the whole morning in the pool. Lunch in Emperor Court before checking out at 3 pm.

We never got to follow the schedule. On our way to Casa Armas Patty already got a call from her mother. Gabi it seemed was not feeling well. He was matamlay.

"Of course, he is!" was my instinctive reply. "He misses us!"

Turns out he was ailing from something more than papa and mommy homesickness. Mother-in-law dutifully reported his true state of health at 6:30 am the next day.

"He made suka twice last night and his poo poo is wet."

Now we were worried. We got Gabi on the phone and asked him how he was.

"Fine... But where are you, papa? I thought we were going swimming. I want to be with you and Mommy," was his weak reply.

"Come on over then, anak. Elias and the black car will pick you and yaya up and you can come here."

Patty and I quickly shifted to Plan B. The morning swim was definitely out of the picture. We went to Mercury and bought what we thought was needed: pedialyte, bottles of mineral water, fresh juice and a thermometer. The plan was for Gabi to be at our side so that we could assess his condition ourselves and then call his pedia for advice.

Gabi was asleep when the car drove up the hotel driveway. And the yaya was drenched in vomit.

I took him in my arms and we hurriedly brought him to our room. He was definitely matamlay. And was obviously in some sort of pain.

"Ouchy my tummy, Mommy," he didn't have to verbalize.

Patty quickly tried to cheer him up. "Look, baby," pointing at the complimentary fruit basket in the room. "Want some of your favorite oranges?"

"Yes, Mommy. I want." His face lit up at the suggestion of food.

And he quickly devoured three small slices.

We gave him juice to drink but he wanted water instead. He finished a whole bottle. We took his temperature. No fever but higher than normal.

It was then that we tried to contact his pedia. We sent her a text message. To both cell numbers she left in her calling card. And the long wait began.

Meanwhile, a somewhat revived Gabi sauntered to the window and saw the pools on the roof deck a few floors down.

"Two pools, Papa! Two pools. Let's swim!" he gleefully proclaimed as he scampered for his swim suit.

Patty and I just stared at each other. How do you tell an obviously sick child that he couldn't swim even if he was looking forward to family time in a pool much bigger than what we had at home?

We eventually came up with a rather foolish compromise.

"Okay, anak. We will swim. But only for a while. Because you're sick," was my Solomonic reply.

"I am not sick! Let's go."

Besides, the pedia had not replied yet. So might as well let Gabi have his cake.

So off to the pool we went. And had fun! For an hour, we played and laughed in the water.

We went back to the room, took quick showers, packed our stuff and informed Front Desk of our early check out. We had hoped that by the time we were on our way home in the car, we would already receive the pedia's instructions.

She never replied.

We got home, put Gabi in bed and shifted to Plan C. We called ER in Medical City and asked the resident pedia for advice. We were told to bring Gabi to the hospital for assessment. They would then text his pedia for instructions.

Huh? Text her? We already did! And we tried to call her but she wasn't picking up!

Did the ER have a special phone to contact Gabi's doctor? Much like Commissioner Gordon's red hot line to Batman? No use using the bat signal either. It was the middle of the day and the bright sun would have blocked off any SOS signal.

Time to shift to Plan D. I texted MY doctor, a cardiologist in Cardinal Santos who was my primary doctor and good friend.

He replied within 5 minutes.

"Bring him to St. Luke's. Not to the emergency room. Too much paper work. Straight to the lab and ask for a CBC. Bring urine and fecal samples too if you can. Do it at home so Gabi does not have to wait too long in the hospital. Have the tests done and bring Gabi home immediately. Just go back to get the results yourself. Have the pedia resident in ER interpret the results and then call me."

Huge sigh of relief. At least I now knew what to do.

We proceeded with Plan E and followed my doctor's instructions to the letter. I ended up going to the hospital four times that same afternoon. Once to bring the urine sample. Once to bring the fecal sample. And once to get the results. Gabi only had to go once, to have his blood taken for the CBC test.

That was gut wrenching.

Being a diabetic, I get to have blood extracted at least once every three months. And my stomach still turns and my heartbeat increases whenever I see the needle.

Gabi was very brave. He cried when he saw the needle. Mommy held his other arm and gently suggested that they sing the Moon song (Moonriver which is Gabi's favorite).

"No, Mommy, I want to count."

So count we all did as the lab nurse stuck the needle and drew blood.

"1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5..."

It was all over before the mandatory 8 count. Boxer Gabi who has always been a Manny Pacquiao fan won his first fight! By knockout too!

I returned to get the test results later that evening. My doctor had already called earlier to remind me to text him the results once I get them.

"Nothing to worry about", he said, a few minutes after I sent him the results.

"Continue with the fluid replacement regimen. Watch out for the signs of dehydration. And bring him to his pedia first thing Monday."

Relieved and suddenly exhausted, I said a quiet prayer of thanksgiving and drove home to be with mother and child.

I fell asleep right away. But not before already plotting Plan F...

More on Plan F, G and H in a later post.

When backs break

We all know by now of the untimely death of Australian actor Heath Ledger of Brokeback Mountain fame.

It’s truly tragic. And sad. May God bless his soul.

And although reports on the circumstances of his death remain at least for now speculative, what’s sadder is that he died from an apparent overdose of anti-anxiety pills.

I have always been against these types of drugs. Drugs that psychiatrists prescribe. And mainly because I almost got “hooked” on such anti-depressant drugs myself in the late 90s.

I was going through a major crisis in my life. I felt that everyone was ganging up on me. To quote the Paul Williams song, it was “you and me against the world.” Except in my case, there was no “you.” Just “me” … and not just “sometimes” but all the time.

Family, friends and my former significant other tried to help. But I refused to be helped. I chose to remain at home, with only my dog as company for most of the day, and spent the time staring at the wall or mindlessly playing computer games on my Mac SE.

There were no affordable broadband internet services back then. And no Facebook. Nor blogspot. There were no available online distractions to keep my mind away from my worries. Worries which at the beginning may have been real but which soon evolved to exaggerated and even imagined levels.

I was convinced into seeing a psychiatrist. Who immediately prescribed drugs whose names I can no longer recall.

I took the drugs. And got immediate relief. I was so “out of it” that I couldn’t even remember that I had issues to deal with. The drugs were definitely a narcotic. A temporary respite from the problems of this world.

But my worries never went away. Especially when the “high” wore off. So I became dependent on them. I was an addict.

And so instead of helping me deal with my problems, I ended up having an even bigger addiction problem. And did my original worries disappear through therapy and medication? No, things got worse. I lost my job. I lost all my money. I lost my significant other. And now I was a druggie.

It was my late father who eventually helped me snap out of my chronic depression. He distracted me. Gave me new responsibilities. Gave me time. Gave me other things to think about.

And he made me see beyond myself. He made me see that if I longed to be loved, I had to de-focus from my own selfish self and selflessly focus on loving others. Most of all, God, who is Love Himself.

“Mahalin mo na lang,” was his favorite saying. Focus not on what others are doing to you. Focus on what you can do for them. Not an original thought definitely, but it’s a certified depression buster.

I finally got rid of my depression blues when my father suffered a heart attack and eventually died in 2000. Even in sickness, even in death, he was teaching me that Charity was the best path to a depression-less life. It’s a difficult road, yes. But to struggle, to persevere on this track, despite the bumpy road, will surely lead all of us to where we are all meant to be. In heaven, with God, where we will forever be free of all worries and issues.

(1) When I grow up ...

... I want to be a barista!

Everyday, at 7:10 am sharp, I help Papa make his first cup of coffee.

Sitting on our kitchen counter, I first heat up some water on an electronic kettle. Papa insists on only using bottled mineral water for his coffee. Not tap water --- which is potable in our village. Not even distilled water --- which is what we drink at table. Papa explains that he needs the "minerals" in his water to "allow the ground coffee to blend with and blossom in the water."

Huh? Whatever! Too BIG a concept for me. Water is just that ... tubig!

I then put three heaping tablespoons of ground coffee on Papa's French press. Since New Year we've been using this glass WMf press that Tito Miguel gave my Papa for Christmas. Poor Tito Miguel and Tita Armi had to rush off to Rustan's to buy the press and tea cups that Papa put on his wish list.

That's what I don't understand. Papa already has three French presses. And not to mention an Espresso maker, a drip machine and three different sizes of the oven top coffee pot variety.

And he asked for another press for Christmas!

Papa then pours the boiling water into the press and after 55 seconds -- no more, no less, he lets me press the coffee, ever so slowly until the plunger hits the glass bottom.

Papa likes his coffee and insists on making his cofee the same way all the time.

"Life is simple, anak" he always says. "Don't complicate it. Consistency is key. The best stress buster is a life of norms and regularity."

Papa and I then proceed to the living room, him with his coffee, me with my Yakult. We partake of the same pandesal and cheddar cheese breakfast. And we share kwento about yesterday, today and tomorrow.

When I grow up, I want to be a barista so I can continue to make Papa coffee for breakfast. And so that I can continue to share my mornings with Papa.

Q: Why are doctors' clients called "patients"?

A: Because that's what we all have to be in order to endure the looooong wait outside their clinics!

Grrr...

I have been to three doctors' clinics at least seven times in the last four weeks. Four times to Patty's OB-GYN in Medical City. A couple of appointments with Gabi's pedia and opthalmologist in St. Lukes. And today to my cardiologist/ endocrinologist/ business partner and friend in Cardinal Santos.

And without exception, I've had to endure waits of no less than 45 minutes at a time. Sometimes even longer.

And it is not a pleasant experience.

I've long learned to block off the entire morning or the entire afternoon when I have a doctor's appointment. Patty taught me how to manage the long wait. She goes to the clinic early, signing up even before the doctor shows up, leaves her number and then heads to the nearest food stall to grab a bite and wait for the clinic secretary's text summons.

We get our sms notification when there are just two patients ahead of us. Enough time to negotiate the long queues to the elevator and get back to the clinic. But then we still have to wait.

The challenge now is how to fight off boredom. And irritation. And try as much as possible to remain productive. Or at least preserve sanity.

I've tried bringing a book or two. It didn't work. Reading is supposed to be relaxing, a luxury one looks forward to. Being in the company of other impatient patients is definitely not conducive to relaxing.

Once in a while, I find myself just just observing the faces of the waiting crowd. I particularly like observing the hordes of med reps who wait in doctors' clinics the whole day. Every day! Imagine that: waiting is their profession!

Today I am trying something new. Now I write this blog as I continue to wait. Writing on my notebook with my pen.

I'll bring my laptop and weRoam card next time. So I can post on the fly.

Wow, I don't believe it. I am actually looking forward to the next doctor's appointment.

Now it is I who can't wait.

A funny thing happened on the way to Sweeney Todd

I was going on a movie date! It was a spur of the moment thing. (Which if you know me, a self-confessed creature of habit, is an achievement in itself.)

It wasn't in my schedule. I went to my Mom's house to pick up my sister-in-law Dana. We were supposed to go to Fr. Honti's wake. But she was tired. And her husband, my brother Paolo, was also too tamad to go.

And so I suddenly had four hours to spare before my next scheduled appointment: another wake this time in Araneta Ave. at 10:30 pm.

Dana suggested we go see Sweeney Todd.

And I agreed immediately. (Which surprised even me! I didn't even bother to first consult my schedule on my PDA!)

I love musicals! Ever since my Dad started to play Rogers and Hammerstein's classics on Sunday afternoons when we were kids. Sound of Music, Carousel, West Side Story ... And I'm a great fan of today's classics as well. Andrew Lloyd Webber, Stephen Sondheim, Shonberg, Boubil and Mackintosh.

And I love movies! In fact, not too long ago, when I was still single, I would regularly go on movie dates with certified movie addicts, Kit and Elisa, Bert and Michelle, Gel and Ria, Rich and Kathy, Peter and Geli, and before they left for the States, Gonz and Sandra.

(Okay, I may not be as well-versed in comparative movie analysis like Kit, Gonz, Peter, Gel, Bert and Rich. I prefer to stay with the girls, making snide remarks like the Muppet Show hecklers and swooning at how guapo this or that actor is. But hey, I love going to movies. And the popcorn too!)

Anyways ...

And because my nephew Gio was a Stephen Sondheim fan like Paolo, Dana and me, we decided to take him along as well, and with my niece Therese in tow.

Fun! A group movie date! Like the Tweedle Bugs of Sesame Street fame, we all excitedly trooped to nearby Galleria to catch the 7:30 pm show.

Let's take the car to the zoo!, was my silent refrain as Gio and Dana began to hum the movie soundtrack.

My first mistake was not checking the movie rating beforehand. :(

To our horror, the movie was rated R-18. (And justifiably so, Dana later on confirmed. Disturbing, she said... Buti nga sa 'yo!)

It was 7:20. The movie was to begin in 10 minutes. So I made another spur of the moment decision. (The second in less than an hour! I must have been running a fever.)

"You and Dana go see the movie," wise Robbi quipped. "I shall take care of the kids!", he said with a wave of his hand.

So off they went to see the demon barber.

"So what do you want to do, There and Gio? Want to see another movie?"

Mistake number 2.

"Yes, Ninong Robbi! Let's go watch Alvin and the Chipmunks!"

So it was.

Well, the bright side is I did get to watch a movie. And it was a musical too.

And I got to spend time with my two eldest pamangkins.

And I did get a good hour's sleep before my next appointment.

"Walang sinuman ang nabubuhay para sa sarili lang ..."

Father Eduardo Hontiveros passed away yesterday, 15 January 2008.

Fr. Honti was the well-loved great grand uncle of my nephews Gio and Pepi, lolo pari to my sister-in-law Dana, tito to Tita Ivi Avellana-Cosio, and younger brother to National Artist Daisy Hontiveros Avellana.

He was also my Theology 131 teacher in the Ateneo in 1988.

From Wikipedia:

Eduardo "Fr. Honti" Hontiveros (20 December 1923 – 15 January 2008) was a FilipinoJesuit composer and musician, best-known as an innovative creator of Philippine liturgical music.

He was born in Molo, Iloilo City, one of eight siblings, to Jose Hontiveros and Vicenta Pardo. He studied at the Capiz Elementary School and transferred at the Ateneo de Manila High Schoo, graduating in 1939. He entered the San Jose Seminary from 1939 to 1945, and entered the Society of Jesus in 1945; he made his first vows as a novice in 1947. He studied theology in the United States in 1951, and was ordained by Cardinal Francis Spellman in 1954.

With the Vatican II mandate of localization of the Holy Mass, Fr. Honti began to write liturgical hymns in the 1960's, where the mission of his first hymn was to provide a song that local people could easily learn and sing at worship, for the Jesuit-oversight parish at Barangka in Marikina. This brought about the tradition of religious music in the country which would later come to be known simply as "Jesuit Music".^[1]

His works include "Papuri sa Diyos", "Magnificat", "Maria, Bukang-Liwayway", "Pananagutan", among many others. His works have been published and sung in many parishes in the Philippines and in other countries as well; his "Papuri sa Diyos" has been sung at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome.^[2]

Fr. Hontiveros suffered a stroke in 1991, affecting his mobility and his ability to communicate. He suffered another stroke in early January 2008 and died on January 15, 2008, aged 84.

From jesuits.ph:

When Fr. Eddie Hontiveros wrote his first liturgical hymn in the 60's, all he wanted to do was to come up with a song that people could easily learn and sing at worship. He had no idea that in writing that first song and in teaching it to a group of young boys and girls in Barangka, Marikina, he was actually starting a whole tradition of religious and liturgical music in the country--which would later come to be known simply as "Jesuit Music." Today, thirty years after Father Honti's first composition, his songs--as well as those of other Jesuit musicians that he has inspired--are sung in churches all over the country, as well as in other parts of the world, wherever Filipinos gather in worship and prayer.

Father Honti brought so many of us together in Masses all over the world where his hymns were sung. And Father Honti brought so many of us closer to God through his prayerful music.


Tayong lahat ay tinipon ng Diyos na kapiling niya.

Thank you, Father Honti.

And I thought I had it maid. :(

I have a bad temper.

It runs in the genes. Literally. We Mercados, or at least most of us, are known to over blow our tops once in a while. Friends and in-laws label it as the "Mercado Temper." And I doubt if it's meant to be a compliment.

In my case, it also runs in the blood. Literally. Because I am diabetic and take insulin and oral medications everyday, I am prone to wildly fluctuating blood glucose levels. Particularly hypo glycemia or low blood sugar levels. And it is when these levels are too low that I become more prone to tantrums at the slightest provocation.

I admit that my temper explosions at times can cause tsunami-like destruction.

Yesterday morning, our cook packed her bags and left after I berated her for not following my rather simple breakfast request.

Berated does not accurately describe my tirade. I cringe in front of my computer right now when I recall the little drama of yesterday morn.

I simply lost it. As Patty quietly told me a good 6 hours after the incident, it was as if I was possessed. Straight from the movies. And although I for once had the starring role, it was a performance I totally regret.

And just when I thought I had my blood sugar level under control. Just when I thought I had already achieved a balance. Just when I thought I could deal with the all too present incompetencies of household staff.

I am now contrite. Guilt pervades. I wish I could take it back.

A little too late of course.

Jose Luis V. Tantoco (29 August 1968 - 8 January 2007)

The last time I talked to Joel was late July 2000, outside Lola Charing's house on Pili. It must have been 2 in the morning.

Lola Pacit jut died that morning and it was the last night of my father's wake in San Antonio.


We were outside by the cars while the Soriano women were finalizing plans for Lola Pacit's wake and funeral.

Despite the obviously somber and even depressing circumstances, Joel was his usual calm and comforting self. We chatted for a while. It was not small talk. Light but not frivolous banter.

He did most of the talking. And he didn't speak of death. He spoke of life! Of what he wanted to do, of what he wanted to achieve. And he quickly got excited, becoming animated about his dreams. We ended up smiling. And laughing. An unspoken commitment to go on enjoying life despite the difficulties, despite even the possibility of an early death.

We parted ways an hour later. And I never saw him again.

Thank you, Joel, for that short talk we had. Thank you for being with me during a difficult phase in my life. And thank you for rekindling that love of life that I thought I'd never experience again.

Thank you, my friend. I will always remember you with fondness in my thoughts and prayers.

P.S. Thank you, Rica, for reminding all of us about Joel. (And thank you for the picture, which I grabbed from your site)

Beware! Insensitive Zoo Keepers Can Bite!

My friend Michelle sent me this forwarded e-mail this afternoon.

I was in shock. On the same day when the accident happened, I was also there in Arc of Avilon. With Gabi and ALL his Mercado cousins!

We didn't witness the incident. But we were there. And it could have happened to any of us.

We were there on a whim. Miguel had a few hours to kill before flying back to KL with his kids, Luis and Rocio. Paolo had left for Paris earlier that morning but Dana and their two boys, Gio and Pepi, decided to stay a little longer to avoid the bitter winter in Europe.

So to AOA we all went. Wawel and Therese, Samantha and Diego, Miguel, Luis and Rocio, Dana, Gio and Pepi, Beeto, Gabi and myself.

Thankfully no one wanted to pet the snakes. The kids did pose with the birds and the miniature horse and fed the rabbits and giant turtles. But not the reptiles.

I don't know what I would have done if the same thing happened to Gabi or any of my nephews and nieces.

I'd probably bite the snake back! And the handler too! And after reading this forwarded e-mail, I'd probably sink my teeth on the zoo owners as well.

Wow! Can you imagine that? They blamed the victim for "not properly handling" the snake!

THEY should be the ones kept in cages! I'd certainly pay good money to visit a zoo where insensitive merchants are put on display behind bars as a warning to would be consumer victims!

Grrr... Never again.

Date: January 8, 2008 4:30:03 PM GMT+08:00

Subject: Snake Bite Story at the Arc of Avilon in Tiendesitas - FYI

PASS THIS STORY TO YOUR FRIENDS...

My Family and I visited the new Arc of Avilon (AoA) Zoo located at Frontera

Verde near Tiendesitas in Pasig last January 5, 2008. The highlight of the

said zoo is they allow people especially kids to touch their animals like

orangutan, parrots, eagles, rabbits, tortoise and snakes.

And when you allow your kids to touch these animals, you trust that the

animals are harmless and are trained not to hurt its visitors.

Unfortunately, my 2nd daughter was bitten by an Albino King Snake. Her

finger was bloodied so I quickly ask where the clinic was located. I saw a

sign that read Hospital/Quarantine, I quicky open the door but found

nothing inside but some cages and two people talking. I ask if there's a

doctor there and they said none. Then the king snake handler came over and

directed us to follow him. I thought we would be brought to a clinic. To my

dismay, we were brought to a dirty pantry full of flies. And the handler

administered Betadine to my daughter's finger, which was stored in a soy

sauce gallon container. A park with no clinic, no doctor and no medicine.

I took my daughter to the hospital, and upon reaching the hospital the

first question was what kind of snake bit my daughter. I told them its an

Albino King Snake. They were not sure whether the king snake is a venomous

or a non-venomous snake. They said they had to consult an expert about

this. After awhile, Thank God that the king snake was a non-venomous one.

But the doctors wanted to be sure so they gave my daughter an anti-tetanus

drug and ask her to take anti-biotics for seven days.

After reaching home, I texted both Jake and Tina Gaw (owners of AoA) that

the doctor asked us to observe my daughters condition. I also told them

that I am going to write about this horrible experience. Tina texted back

and said: "Jerry, if thats how bad you felt, I respect your personal

feelings concerning the incident. I wish she (my daughter) could have been

more careful in handling the snake or other pets as well especially this

one is exotic. Even tame ones, rabbit, tortoise, mouse, pig bite when they

felt hurt or frighten when not properly handled. And its really sad when

you felt it became a horrible issue."

Now it's my daughter's fault to be bitten by the snake? AoA never bothered

to offer their help and now they blame my daughter for the incident. That

was a very insensitive remark by Tina. I don't think the snake was hurt or

frighten, they were tired and irritated because they were being used to

entertain people.

Exotic you say? Why allow them to be touched by people? Yes, I agree that

animals bite when they felt hurt or frighten, but let me remind the

management of AoA that most of your audience are children, I even saw some

as young as two years old. They will just touch and play with the animals

without knowing whether they're hurting them or not. It is AoA's

responsibility to make sure that none of their animals be hurt or frigthen

so that biting won't happen.

And since accidents happen, how come Arc of Avilon don't even have a clinic

to at least administer some first-aid soluton. What if the eagles decided

to peck the visitors, or use their big claws to attack the visitors. Donkey

or horse suddenly kicking. And snakes biting. There shoud be a doctor, a

clinic and first-aid kit to address this kind of unfortunate incidents.

Arc of Avilon should not allow people to touch a snake that bites plus they

should have expert handlers to assist its visitors. All the Arc of Avilon

management can say is that the snake is a non-venomous one. No other help

was offered, and then they will blame the visitors for mishandling the

animals.

Am I overacting? I don't think so. What are the chances that you will get

bitten by a snake in the metropolis? Worst in a theme park like Arc of

Avilon. As a parent, will you take it sitting down? Will you just take

their word for it that it's non-venomous? Remember, its a snake-bite. Let

this be a warning to all my readers who are planning to visit Arc of Avilon

at Tiendesitas or any other zoo for that matter.

Let my story be a lesson to all. You can ask your kids to look but as much

as possible DO NOT TOUCH. Better yet, DO NOT VISIT the Arc of Avilon

totally, until they improve their facilities. Never again will we go to the

Arc of Avilon.

Thank you and more power. God Bless us all!

Jerry Liao

I am so proud of you, my son!

Gabi is now officially potty-trained! Woohoo! (I'm already counting the savings on them damn diapers!)

And I witnessed it myself early this morning.

Gabi and I have a daily routine. I get up at around 5 every morning. I go down to the dining room and sit down on my favorite chair on the dining table cabezera.

Say my prayers. Check my blood sugar. Inject insulin and take my medications. Write my blog (if I have anything new to say). Update Gabi's multiply. Check my e-mail. And sigh, begin to work.

Gabi, almost always, at 5 minutes before 7, wakes up and calls for me from his third floor room.

(Yes, to Patty's horror, Gabi is slowly becoming a mini Me. He too is slowly becoming a creature of habit. And OC too! Not because I force him, mind you. It's HIS choice. So there!)

I bring Gabi down and he takes his favorite chair also on the head of his small table. Gabi and I spend the next thirty minutes talking about anything and everything under the sun. Today it was about school and how excited he was to see his favorite teacher Mia and his classmates again.

Suddenly he stands up, grabs my hand and leads me to the powder room, proudly saying "I'm going to make poo poo, Papa!"

And he did! All by himself. (Okay, I helped him up the seat and wiped him clean after the deed.)

Patty did mention to me yesterday that Gabi has indeed learned to relieve himself. But this was the first time I witnessed it myself.

Made me cry. (To the puzzled look of Gabi who probably thought, as he is wont to do, that Papa is being weird again.)

I wonder if this will now form part of our routine. Hmmm. Must put that down on my schedule.

A rebellious new year

Writing as Gabi (gabimercado.multiply.com)

Papa, Mommy and I spent a quiet New Year's Eve in the Manila Peninsula.

Mommy was out on furlough, getting a 24-hour pass from her doctor-ordered house arrest. The terms of the temporary liberty were strict. Mommy was to be detained in her room and only allowed to leave its confines for buffet breakfast on New Year's Day.

But Papa and I were free to roam around as much as we wanted. :)

And trust Papa to use our short visit to teach me about the recent events in this now historic hotel.

It all began at check-in time. There was a long queue. Much like the long lines of guests forced to check out of the hotel that fateful day in November.

Armed with only his cell phone camera, Papa decided to re-enact the events. What better way to learn about history than to act it out ourselves. With me of course as a willing but unpaid on-cam talent.

Here is our version of the Magdalo Siege Part II:

Run! Rebel soldier escapes from the Makati Regional Trial Court.

... marches down Makati Ave, to the Pen where he holds fort.

Caught pleading for help from their windows are unsuspecting guests.

An ultimatum is issued. When it will end is anybody's guess.

Heavy artillery is brought in (Okay, okay, we couldn't get a tank, we got this from the pantry)...

Tear gas canisters are tossed, marking the end to the party.

Forcing media to crawl out to safety.

Rebel soldier leader surrenders and is led out in cuffs

Others fled to continue the fight, their cry resounds: "Enough is enough!"