In grade school, our teachers — some of whom were American nuns — would often tell us:
“One word for the wise is enough.” It was a tongue-in-cheek admonition, actually. It meant that if you had to be warned more than once, then you’re not too bright. (Read: you’re pathetic.)
Well, I’ve been reminded of that saying recently.
You see, quite a number of my friends have been getting sick — mainly from overwork, stress, fatigue, going to the office even if they’re sick, engaging in strenuous activities beyond their physical-mental capacities, and (horror of horrors) not taking their maintenance meds because they’re making tipid. (I don’t know if that ought to make me laugh or cry.)
Some, on the other hand, are simply in denial about their age — can’t accept the fact that they’re not 16 anymore but 60. They’re too embarrassed to even admit they’re human.
That they can actually get sick like the rest of us ordinary mortals.
Well, I remember one of those times when we had to rush my mom to the ER because she was diabetic and didn’t take her insulin shots again, or ate too many grapes or mangoes again, or stressed herself out again.
Eventually she’d have to be confined after every ER episode. Our bill would often hit 6 figures every time she was hospitalized.
To add to our anxiety, my mom was too old to have medical insurance, so we just kind of rolled with the punches. Thank goodness we had set aside a fund for her medical needs — long before she needed it. Still, those 6-figure hospital bills were always alarming and heart-stopping for Ito and me because I’m an only child. I have no siblings who could split the bill with me!
Well, one day, something quite fortuitous happened from out of the blue. There was this one memorable doctor who paid my mom a visit, one fine morning. He was already quite, quite frustrated with my mom who hardly listened to his advice, nor heeded his warnings.
He stared at my mom for a few minutes without saying a thing. It seemed to me like he was trying very, very hard to control himself from scolding her. And was probably weighing his thoughts and words.
Finally, he spoke. He leaned over and spoke to my mom, very up close and personal. Very in her face. I cannot forget what happened next.
He looked at my mom straight in the eye and told her, “Lola. Sana namasyal ka nalang sa Europe instead of spending your money in this hospital. Sayang naman, Lola. Sana nag-Europe ka nalang!”
And with that, he turned around and left. He didn’t say another word to my mom.
End Result: after her doctor had left, my mom looked at me, very quiet. Looking sad.
Perplexed. And quite forlorn. Which was so unlike my mom who’s usually opinionated, stubborn, and feisty.
Wonder of wonders, after that close encounter with her doctor, she started taking her insulin shots religiously. She actually asked her caregivers to give her less sweets. And scolded them if they forgot to let her take her medicines.
For a while, my mom went traveling again. Asia, she said, was interesting. But her favorites were always New York and Paris.
Indeed. One word for the wise is enough.
My mom died at the ripe, old age of 92. She was reading her Bible and Harry Potter for years. No dialysis. No paralysis. No amputations. No blindness or deafness. No heart attacks. No major strokes. She was never bedridden so she never had bedsores. Her eyesight was better than mine after I had her eyes operated on for lens implants. She could read and watch TV without eyeglasses. Amazing.
I guess, at just the right time, she finally learned that “one word for the wise is enough.”
How about you?
