Mom's Rescue Mission: 24h prior

Two weeks before hearing about the news regarding mom, I had just returned from a trip to Alberta with a good friend of mine. Up until then, traveling was done for leisure, to explore new places and new culture. Now, it was strange to hop on a plane out of necessity. This one-way ticket I had bought frantically two days ago was my first step into completing part of my mission: bring mom back to Canada.

Flying to Asia is no joke. As I ponder over the amount of hours I will remain seated, I am wishing for the absence of pressure sores and DVTs (blood clots in the lower extremities) ... I had to throw in some nursing educational content lol. Upon arrival at the airport, I am left with bittersweet feelings; excited to revisit the the Philippines after seven years but anxious for the situation that is bringing me there. The airport felt like familiar territory due to my previous trip. I checked-in, obtained my boarding pass, and flew through security with ease. Once I reach my gate (three hours prior the plane's departure), I sit down and glance at my itinerary: three stops, with about 2-3 hours layover between them. The waiting game begins.

After sending small updates to my family here and in the Philippines, the majority of the time I am left speaking to myself (internally, of course). I pull out my travel notebook and a pen, fix myself comfortably with my legs elevated on my suitcase, and write away. Feelings, feelings, and more feelings. It was all that filled up my mind.

The first flight was easy peasy: I landed in Vancouver at about 21:00. I find my gate and repeat the same process of a few hours ago. However, the only difference was that an hour prior to boarding, I hear my name get called overhead to speak to the gate attendant.

Gate attendant: "Hi, may I see your boarding pass and your passport please?"

Me: -hands them in a confused state-

Gate attendant: "I'm sorry, I'm afraid you won't be able to board this plane unless you have proof that you will return to Canada."

Me: "What? I wasn't told this when getting here."

Gate attendant: "I apologize but since we will be crossing borders, you will have to provide proof that you will not be staying abroad indefinitely. If you can purchase a return ticket and show proof of it, you will be able to board the plane."

"Oh f...", I thought to myself. I had already spent nearly 2k on my one-way ticket. With time racing against me, I took out my laptop and hastily connect to the not-so-great airport wifi. And there I was, stressed out of my mind. So many questions popped into my head: "Why does this rule exist? When is my return date? What's my cheapest alternative? Will I make up my mind in time to board this plane?"

My mind races as I skim through my options:

1. Buy the cheapest random ticket.

2. Buy an expensive refundable ticket.

3. Buy an even more expensive ticket that allows for rebooking.

I picked option #3. (Spoiler alert: That ticket purchased wasn't the one that got me back to Canada, to be continued ...)

With ten minutes left until boarding time, I go back to the gate attendant and show her proof of my purchase. She then gives me the okay to board the plane. Next stop: Taipei.

---

I do not recall much of my time during that 12-hour flight. All I can say is that I remember watching A Star is Born and La La Land, and reminiscing over how I felt in that moment. Otherwise, the rest of the time I spent sleeping. I remember most specifically the song "City of Stars" sung by Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. As I hummed the melody to myself while the majority of the other passengers were sleeping, I end up writing my own lyrics to it. My rendition was dedicated to my mother. I went back to my notes on my phone, and see that this song, Tough Journey, was written from 04:25am to 05:12am, two minutes before landing. If you're wondering why the time stamp is there, do not ask me, I've always been a weird kid who likes to keep track of time.

The songwriting did change my perspective for the rest of the journey as I draw nearer to my final destination. It installed in me hope to keep pushing through, hope that I would soon see mom again, hope that I will complete the mission regardless of the time it will take.

---

I land in Manila at 9:40 am. And maaaaaaaaaaan, it is HOT! Or as my Ilokano family members would say "NAPUDOT!" I meet my cousin's husband at Terminal 3. Prior to getting to the hospital, we make several pit stops to get food (fresh coconut!).

As we are driving through busy Manila city, where it appears that the roads are are a free-for-all (pedestrians and drivers alike), I am relieved to be in a car and not a plane anymore. As the heat hits my skin, and the polluted air enters my nares, there is a feeling of déja vu from previous trips to the motherland. With the windows down, I stare out in the open; the palm trees, the male vendor selling bananas, the jeepneys, and finally the hospital. There is equally a sentiment of relief and anxiety that takes over me. It was time to see mom ...

---

I walk up the stairs to the third floor where the neurosurgery ward is located. Mom was in a 3 bedded-room. The curtains around each bed are wrapped around to offer some "privacy". Yet, I can hear the family members of the other patients echoing through the room. This was odd for me, being a patient's family member and not a nurse in a hospital I've never been in. Heck, in a whole freaking other country where I was unfamiliar with the health care system. Mom's bed was the nearest one to the window. I "knock" on the curtain (lol) and open it. And there she was, the reason for my mission. I had created a whole scenario in my head, that mom would look just like she did when she was back home. I had made myself believe that the neurologist was over-exaggerating and that I would be able to fly her back to Canada in a couple of days ... I was wrong. Mom had "moonface" from the Decadron she had been given (steroids to reduce the swelling in her brain). Every half-hour or so, she would be vomiting. I made a quick realization then that, it was safest to stay here for now. After more than 12 hours of traveling, a jet-lagged Cristine was completely exhausted and succumbed to uncontrollable crying. It wasn't the only time in that month-long hospitalization I had done so. But mom told me something as she lay on her hospital bed: "Stop crying, it's going to be okay". Mom was always like that, stoic and resilient. I guess it was my turn to be that for her now ...