Epigraphs aflaunting

As an avid collector of books, what I first read, well after the title, is the epigraphs- if there's any- and that would set my mood, would drive me down ferociously, pursuing the hidden morsels deep within the pages. This is not an entirely original post, a tumblr account I've stumbled from Flavorwire led me to Epigraphic - a blog purely adorned with multi-textured epigrams, from different literary mantras of the publishing world.

What would make this original, I hope, is the inclusion of the book covers where the epigrammatic consciousnesses are taken from. The books here are from my humble collections. If you happen to come across this blog, please leave your comments on how can I better my post every single time.

Love..., ever unsatisfied, lives always in the moment that is about to come.

- Marcel Proust. Epigraph from The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer.

Márgarét, are you gríeving

Over Goldengrove unleaving?

Leáves, líke the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

Ah!  ás the heart grows older

It will come to such sights colder

By and by, nor spare a sigh

Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;

And yet you wíll weep and know why.

Now no matter, child, the name:

Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed

What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

It ís the blight man was born for,

It is Margaret you mourn for.

- Spring and Fall: To a Young Child. Epigraph from Goldengrove by Framcine Prose

Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth.

- Sheryl Louise Moller. Epigraph from Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

There is another world, but it is in this one.

-W.B. Yeats. Epigraph from The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian by Sherman Alexie

Rattle his bones/ Over the stones/ It's only a pauper/ Who nobody owns. 

Traditional Nursery Rhyme. Epigraph from The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman.

- They say this is a wonderful world to live in, but I don't believe I ever did really live in a wonderful world.

Charlie Starkweather in his 1958 confession. Epigraph from Bad Dirt: Wyoming Stories 2 by Annie Proulx

And a certain ruler asked him, saying, " Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" And Jesus said unto him, " Why callest thou me good? None is good, save one. That is God."

- Luke 18:18-19. Epigraph from The Devil and Miss Prym by Paulo Coelho

I meant what I said, and I said what I meant... An elephant's faithful- one hundred per cent!

- Theodor Seuss Geisel, Horton Hatches the Egg, 1940. Epigraph from Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

Xoxo

Ryan

The Longest Days

( This is the long-due account of my grandmother sickness and hospitalization and holistic healing, and how did we all come out, appreciative and gratified to all those who helped us.)



Sometimes, we need not be prepared, to harness the strength inside us.


I blogged about my grandmother's visitation over the holidays. We planned about it as early as June. We all decided it would be financially helpful if instead of going to the province wherein money could be so steep, we would fashion a different scheme. So, my tita and I decided to have my granny came over Christmas.

We were all excited, especially me, because I missed my Mamay.


Little did we know that the rush, the stress, the foodies, and the travel took their toll on her health. So the night of January 3, 2012, just as we're preparing for sleep, Mamay complained about her head and she vomited right there and then. I thought, she's just tired from all the hours of looking over my sister and pamangkin. But the vomiting continued on. We felt the need for medical assistance and so we rushed her to the community clinic.

I will never forget the bystanders who helped us in carrying Mamay to the hospital. I mouthed my gratitude and they all smiled at me. That was my first glimpse of hope.

We wheeled her and somebody took her blood pressure. We were shocked to know her bp. 270/ 180.
The doctor advised us that if the patient has that high bp and vomiting on the sides, it is best to confine her in a bigger hospital where they could really trace what went wrong. We were given three options which I will not mention in this post. We chose the one nearest because I didn't want Mamay to travel long given her delicate condition.

We rode in an ambulance. My first time ever. It was surreal, like a stilt from a movie. Ever wonder what goes inside an ambulance? You were strapped in little seats and horrors! it played music too. I appreciated the intention of lulling us with the situation. What I will not take into consideration are the song selections. You think it is beneficial in any way if you hear My Immortal by Evanescence being played in the ambulance radio. WTF. You are crossed between being hospitalized yourself and wit-scared and you will be hearing songs from a goth- band? and with such paramount death connotation? Weird sense of humor.


That was a shock. But what brought us to the tipping edge was the treatment we braved through in the hospital entrance. We were stopped on our tracks by a somebody. Given his starched-white gown or robe or whatever, he appeared to be one of the doctors. Another hopeful glimpse. Or so we figured out.

" Do you know where you are?" That was the first question. We thought it would be " What happened?, Come in"

We were warned by the nurses in the community clinic that aristocracy thrived by the minute in the hospital but I never expected it to be that much. It was over the top in its scope. I had hot flushes just as his question leaped from his mouth. When you are caught in the middle of a trying time, you could either be a lion or a lamb. I chose the former.

" I happen to know how to read!" , we were unabashedly discriminated. Still, Mamay laid semi-conscious on the ambulance bed. Was it part of the Hippocratic Oath to ask the patient's family member useless questions while the patient laid on the bed? Was it part of the Hippocratic Oath that the doctor should be sneering and diabolical, thus creating psychologically-induced angst? Enlighten me.

When the doctor adsorbed the gravity of my words, My mother and I, so strong and weak at the same time, were ushered to the admitting office. We were given the math. We were in awkward situation: We don't have money at hand. We were shabbily dressed. The receptionist asked if we were prepared to spend a fortune, given the semi-private room rate and the medicines and all sorts of bill in between. I said yes. We read the rules. We were confident that nurses and aides were taking care over my Mamay while we were daunted over the A+ medical rates. When my other Tita, who were waiting outside texted us that Mamay was still in the ambulance bed, that broke my mother's bottle of reserve. We couldn't see the point of prolonging my Mamay's agony just because we were still negotiating inside.
Would it hurt their financial system if they will allow my granny to rest inside the wards below while the negotiation is ongoing? Would it chip their sterling reputation as the prime city hospital of they will give first aid treatment while the negotiation is ongoing. If yes, then, I pity them.

( to be continued)