I DON'T KNOW WHY I LOVE YOU BUT I DO


We woke up last Sunday to a wet, drizzling, early morning fog. It was superbowl Sunday, but even more exciting was the fact that it was Surf City Marathon day at Huntington Beach and Papa was running the half-marathon... his very first real marathon run ever.

I came from work the previous nights of Thursday and Friday and was going back to work that Sunday night, which was the beginning of a 4-day stretch. It's always a tough thing for me to recover from consecutive nights of work and I thought there was no way I could make it that Sunday morning. But then, I saw how important it was for him and it was probably a moment I would very much regret not to be able to share with him so I threw all good sense to the wind and took my place beside him... in a manner of speaking , that is (running is one thing I don't do if you put a barking dog at my heels... heh!).

I wasn't counting on the rain happily pouring in, which might have been sleet with the awful cold, cold wind blowing in from the sea. We parked well away from the track, where a yellow bus would shuttle us to the starting line. Everyone in the queue was freezing and wet and freezing all over again. When Papa took his place at the starting line, I tried to take my place on the patio of the Waterfront Hilton to see him off but it was so hard to look through the rain. Amazingly, I discovered that it's harder to gaze through the rain than it is through harsh sunlight. I consoled myself into thinking he's there... out there doing what he's been working hard to do. He'll be fine.

And then they were off. And I had 2 hours to kill.

I called my cousin, Leslie, who lived in Huntington Beach, to tell her where I was. The previous afternoon, I made arrangements with her to meet me so we could spend time together while we waited for Papa to run his course. We walked all the way from the hotel to Main St. (only later did she show me how far we walked... I could have run the marathon myself, I think) where we had lunch in a wonderful Mexican restaurant called Avila's El Ranchito where I had a big luscious bowl of Mama Avila's soup and Leslie and I tried to catch up on each other's lives for the 20 miles and 8 months that we haven't touched base.

2 hours after and 20 degrees warmer, we realized it was time to go back to the track and await Papa's rush to the finish line. It didn't take long. I hardly had the time to set up my camera when there he was... every wet, pale, panting inch of him sprinting the last 20 meters to the finish line. Oh my God, I couldn't have been more proud of him and happy that I decided to be there.




We walked back to the restaurant where we let Papa change into dry clothes and have his fill. Then we went home and I tried to cram as much sleep as I could into the couple of hours I had left before getting ready for work.

And that's where I would be for the next four nights.

I can't talk a lot about my work. First of all, it's not ethical, against the law, in fact, to talk about my patients. And the last thing I would do is talk about trade stuff with non-trade people, or even with trade people. The only thing I could say is that it's hard not to be in a warm bed at a time when your body is telling you that is exactly where you're supposed to be. It's hard to put the car on reverse and out of the driveway just as your husband walks in the front door and calls, 'Honey, I'm home.' It's a very short walk in the night chill from the parking lot to the hospital entrance but that morning when I was standing in the frost and rain with Papa was probably several degrees warmer, just because.

I work in the neonatal ICU. I work with babies, with newborn babies... with sick, newborn babies. And if there's anything that I can probably name as my one compelling reason for going back again and again (apart from the reality that I do need the job) is the fact that I am working with babies. 3 months after I started this job, a friend asked me how I was doing and I said, 'Great. Right now, I don't think I could take care of anybody bigger than this.' And I go and put my hands where they are about 50cm. apart.




To go 2 nights in a row is acceptable. A lot of nurses wouldn't go a day beyond that. I'd do that and some nurses would ask me, 'Why do you do that to yourself?' To do 4 nights is simply crazy. But sure, I did it. And I probably would, every chance I get. It's tiring, sometimes it can get scary just to be in that place where you'll never know what to expect, and it's stressful a hundred times over. But when you're in a roll, those babies can get so addictive. Sometimes, I miss the feel of a baby's head against my chest, where it lays burping contentedly after a bottle of formula. In a world of uncontrolled commercialism where hardly anybody has enough, this is eureka.

That morning, just before Papa found his way to the starting line, a man behind us was asking somebody, 'So tell me again. Why are you doing this?'

I think back on the things Papa and I do and that question echoes in my head on and on.

I can only smile in response.