‘Happy bypass to you!’
Quizzical was the look on the eyes of bedside nurses Francis Domalaon and Emma Pablo when they went to my room at 6:17 a.m. of Sept. 27 to bring me to the OR of St. Luke’s Global for my quadruple bypass surgery. The room was in a party mood, almost oblivious to the major operation that was about to take place. Each of my caregivers—composed of my family and friends—was carrying a balloon, some heart-shaped. Those balloons were courtesy of my UPLB college friends Detdet Hernandez, Joee Mendiola Mendoza, Tiffany Urrutia, and Jig Navarete who had them delivered the night before.
By the time the bed was rolled out of my room, we started singing “Happy Bypass to You” to the tune of “Happy Birthday.” Indeed, that day was a birthday for me. The operation would spell a new life for me after being diagnosed with blocked major arteries through an angiogram. I was told by my doctors I was a walking time bomb and could die anytime. I allowed God to win over me, so I went under the knife. The success of my operation would mean a new lease on life. A new purpose from the divine.
“Kahit ang maya ay hindi mahuhulog sa lupa kung hindi ipahihintulot ng Diyos,” said my nephew Nikkelle, quoting Matthew, in his prayers before the nurses brought me out of the room. That passage was so powerful I was energized and all the more became ready for my operation. Days before that, at home, Nikkelle told me about “trust and total surrender to the Lord.”
By the time we reached the busy nurses and doctors at the station on the north wing of the hospital’s 15th floor, “Happy Bypass to You” was already being sung resoundingly. They smiled and clapped at the station as they wished me good fortune. They were shaking their heads in disbelief because for the first time, they experienced something new: a joyful bypass operation send-off.
In my mind, I had already prayed and asked God to take the wheel. I thought God would be happy that the patient himself was happy. That meant full trust in God’s full control.
I did my assignment days before my surgery. I went to confession three times. I heard Masses, received communion. A priest named Fr. Paul Martin Ma. Gapuz, OSM at St. Peregrine Laziosi Parish and Diocesan Shrine in Muntinlupa City, prayed over me and anointed my forehead and hands with blessed oil to provide spiritual healing, peace, and courage. I was conscious about making God happy before my surgery, so I readied myself spiritually.
When I reached the OR, the last thing I did was sing “Happy Bypass to You” and ended it with a selfie with the family and friends who brought me to the OR.
My happy hormones helped me perform “excellently during operation that no complication was recorded.” I did not feel a single thing. I woke up less than 20 minutes after the 3.5-hour bypass surgery with a praise and a song.
And when my cardiologist, Dr. Leni Iboleon-Dy, cheerful and caring, helped wheel me out of the recovery room to the coronary care unit, I was so awake I recognized everybody when we first passed by the lounge where my well-wishers were waiting for me.
“Inday Ruru!” I waved at my youngest brother Rod from a comfortable distance, almost forgetting that there were tubes and other contraptions in my body and hands. He was a picture of joy and relief. “Nakailang-pari’t-parito na ako sa chapel, Inday,” my brother said.
“Yaya Li!” She waved and sang “Alive! Alive forevermore. Jesus is alive forevermore.”
“Chrisipipi! Jan! Thank you,” I told my best friend Christine Dayrit and my sister Jan Chavez-Arceo who never left my side. Both were kabado and hopeful when I entered the OR.
“Paula! Alex! Nikkelle! Howell! Nikki! Gabby! Buhay ako. Salamat sa Diyos!” I shouted to my nieces and nephews, who, by this time, had total joy in their hearts.
“Jericho Castillo! Salamat sa mga dasal,” I told my “pilot” as he managed to wave and smile at me.
And I recognized one more person I had not seen for a long time but happened to be at the lounge as she was also waiting for her own patient: “Patti Olbes! How are you?” She gave a thumbs-up.
“And the guard! Guard, I’m alive! I’m sorry I did not get your name earlier.”
I was just happy to be alive.
God is good. I survived my quadruple bypass.
***
The night before my quadruple bypass, I was tossing and turning in my hospital bed at St. Luke’s Global. I had prayed the rosary, clutched my more-than-palm-sized image of Padre Pio, and pleaded to God. Time passed. Anxiety stayed. And it overstayed like a lover not wanting a breakup.
I took comfort, however, in the bedtime message by my cardiologist, Dr. Leni Iboleon-Dy, that it was normal to be anxious and that I should look forward to a new, beautiful life after the surgery. In Dr. Leni’s judgment, perhaps because I would be operated on as a strong body that did not suffer a prior heart attack, the surgery was just necessary to prolong my life all the more. She tucked me in and gave me a hug.
“I’ll see you early morning tomorrow. Pray,” she whispered, with a loving wink. It was past 8 p.m.
“I’ll be ready for the swimsuit competition by that time. Or for my closeup,” I laughed. We laughed.
The lights were switched off. From my room on the 15th floor, BGC and EDSA were ablaze. There was an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe that popped up for a few seconds. A rosary somewhere on EDSA was lit up, too. I watched them and took them as signs that God was by my side.
We left Gulod at 11 a.m. for the hospital on Sept. 26. An overcast sky veiled the resting place of my parents when we dropped by first to say a prayer. Typhoon Opong had kicked off its rage when we started to drive past the toll gate that would usher us to SLEX. The expressway was hooded with nimbus clouds and there was the usual banter inside the car. I checked in a day early at the hospital for my heart operation. By 4:13 p.m. of Sept. 26, I was already in my room with family and closest friends like Christine and Mye Alimagno Pascual.
Earlier, God manifested himself when He sent to me my God-fearing heart surgeon, Dr. Ramon Diaz. While I was waiting for my assigned room at the admission office of the hospital, my heart surgeon took time to meet me. It was taking time to get a room and the surgeon wanted to explain to me the procedure. He was a picture of bliss and calm. It helped that his comely face was consoling, comforting. He was dropping bombs, yet everything was cushioned because he explained everything with caution and care. “We’re looking at four or more,” he said, referring to the number of bypass grafts. “Based on your angiogram result—which is really challenging, because all your major arteries, save for the collateral ones, are occluded—the least number of bypass grafts we will do is four, that’s quadruple. The most is quintuple or sextuple.”
The doctor sensed the lump in my throat. “Relax. We’ll make it. The more bypass, the merrier, the better,” he said.
“Will I wake up after?”
“Of course! I’ll do my best. I’ll pray. I’ll pray for you.”
In an instant, fear abandoned my face. Excitement replaced it. Joy resided in it. I was truly happy.
My doctors delivered on their promises. They said I was an “excellent, easy patient on the operating table.”
The fear that lurked pre-operation was a time-consuming ordeal that I should have brushed aside with faith. I learned that “worrying is worthless.”
And it’s true what Nikkelle said in his prayer: “Kahit ang maya ay hindi mahuhulog sa lupa kung hindi ipahihintulot ng Diyos.”
