As I was cleaning up my files, I chanced upon this piece I wrote seven years ago -- in March 2003. To this day, the experience continues to teach me.
In a mere split second three Sundays ago, a neighborhood stray cat succeeded in something I have long wanted to do -- pace myself from an average of 12-to-14-hour workday six days a week.
Those in non-governmental organizations (NGOs) will surely be able to relate and confirm. Many working in the corporate sector have often expressed surprise to discover how much work there is in social development. Especially those who know how much NGO workers are paid.
I have been taking on multiple functions and undertaking simultaneous assignments since I can't remember when. (Must have been before someone coined the term “multi-tasking.”) Ninety percent of my career life has been in social development – family planning, population, development communication, children and youth. So the change I wanted was tantamount to breaking what was practically a lifetime habit.
Now back to our stray cat story.
I was almost done with late lunch after Sunday worship. Suddenly, our shih tzu, Max, rushed out of the door and into the garage. Realizing the garage door was open, I ran after Max on reflex. Max is really an indoor pet who only gets to go to the yard for his morning rituals.
It turned out that a dirty skin-and-bone stray cat had wandered into the garage. By the time I reached the garage to keep the two apart, the cat was stretching and snarling at Max, teeth showing, ready to lunge at any time like Karate Kid just before throwing his opponent that powerful kick. Meantime Max was just looking back at the cat.
I succeeded in what I set out to do. But in the blink of an eye, I acquired a hairline fracture on my right tibia. Of course I did not know that at the time. I just remember somewhat hearing a distinct crunch somewhere that continues to resound in my mind's ear everytime I remember the incident.
Freeze frame -- I am seated on the garage floor, both hands clutching my right foot to keep it immobile.
The pain was bearable. But the terror was something else. Something went wrong in my body but I didn’t know exactly what it was. In a heartbeat, I learned the other meaning of the line “it took my breath away” that had nothing to do with roses, violins and romance.
Two hours later, I was home with my right foot, ankle and lower leg in a cast courtesy of the medical staff of the National Orthopedic Hospital.
Since then, life has never been the same again.
To say there has been a drastic change in lifestyle would be an understatement. Gone is the 5 a.m. rise – quick shower, make-up, dress up – walk to the North EDSA MRT Station (which serves as my daily exercise)– take the packed and ever-so-slow elevator ride to the third floor – cue for my MRT pass - go on the MRT ride to Buendia, taking my usual end-seat which is perfect for a 30-minute quiet time – get off at Buendia station - ride an Ayala Loop van to Citibank Tower – work until it’s time for that ride home except when some emergency errands beckon or from time to time have dinner with friends.
Nowadays, my typical day goes like this:
7:30 a.m. Wake up with each twist and turn carefully planned and consciously made -- it seems the usual reflex movements will have to go until my cast is removed in five weeks’ time, barring any change in doctor's orders.
8:00 a.m. Morning rituals (20 minutes on a workday in the past)
8:40 a.m. Breakfast (10 minutes on a workday in the past), read the papers
9:30 a.m. Bathe (much longer now than my usual 20 minutes, with right leg
propped up on a stool)
10:10 a.m. Get dressed (no longer just 10 minutes)
10:30 a.m. Read/listen to music/check email/work on the computer/ make calls
12:20 nn Lunch
1:30 Watch tv/nap/eat merienda/work/read/watch the news/dinner/chat
- 8:00 p.m.
8:00 p.m. Watch tv/work on computer/read
9:00 p.m. Evening rituals
9:30 p.m. Drink milk (fortified calcium content, take note)
9:40 p.m. Go to bed/read/pray/sleep
On some days, friends drop by, or I meet with colleagues on some projects (my office has agreed for me to do some of my work at home).
Certainly this is a far-cry from what I have been doing for the last so many years.
It has not been easy. But I can definitely say, and I say this loud and clear especially to those who are, wittingly or unwittingly, trapped in the live-to-work syndrome, that there is more to life than work. And that everything happens for a reason.
Funny, it is only now that I remember to thank God for that stray cat. That incident seven years ago showed me and continues to do so today, that truly, in God's hands, even a dirty stray cat or a fracture can be made to work for one's good.
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