ESSAY Ghosthunting in an Old Hotel By Noel P. Pingoy, MD Philippine Daily Inquirer First Posted 07:29:00 09/07/2008
MANILA, Philippines - An earsplitting, wayward wind rattled the glass window of the 17th floor, like a child jangling a maracas. The sky was silvered but a threatening black had slowly eased in like a premonition for the wicked wind. It probably came from the north harbor, the gargantuan ships unnerved by the gush but the sea below appeared somewhat listless. A slight drizzle percolated on the pane—like tiny beads of sweat on a furrowed brow on a summer day, only this time it was strangely, differently cold. January had never been this chilly, I told myself.
This is my first time to stay at the Manila Hotel. I don’t really understand why but despite its well-advertised old world charm and its deep sense of history, this hotel had never appealed much to me in the past. So when Aventis invited the alumni of the PGH Medical Oncology program to a meeting on lung cancer with the out-of-towners staying overnight at this hotel, I seized the opportunity to check the place out, hoping that the stay will convince me of its lofty place among the grand hotels of the capital.
Ghosts take residence in old buildings especially the high-ceilinged ones, people say, and I wondered what ghost inhabit my room, amidst the grayish walls, the sea green carpet and the carved wooden furniture on the upper floors.
I figured if I lay there long enough, keeping my breath low and equally cadenced like a metronome, I’d be able to get a sense of the antiquity of the place, perhaps encounter phantoms that have been reported to haunt its lonely corridors and forlorn floors. I told myself if I keep my eye peeled and my ears opened, if I really pay attention to the shadows and whispers that the silent spaces allow, something was in store for me. A flash in the mirror perhaps, or a rustling of the drapes. I shuddered at the thought of an actual ghost showing up unannounced at the foot of the bed, white gown fluttering in a windless corner.
For a few minutes, with my back stretched firmly on the bed, I imagined how I would have wanted my ghost to appear before me. Would the lights blink? Would there be music? I can faintly decipher the words Gary Granada was mouthing on my phone. (I had downloaded some songs from Ka Gary’s 2007 “Sa Pagitan ng Ngayon at Kailanman” CD which was, incidentally, one of the best releases for me during the past year.) In the title track, he was asking:
Sana sa buhay laging tama o mali.
At ang katanunga’y simpleng oo o hindi.
Kung ganun dalangin kong ikaw ay mamalagi
Sa pinakatangi mong pinakamimithi.
Ah, sweet introspection followed. If these mildewed walls were to reveal something and ask how I would define my presence in this world, I’d probably stare at the ghost’s trenchant eyes and declare something foolish as this: Feel your life. Palpate it like something that is easily within your grasp regardless of how incalculably mysterious and differently unfathomable it may seem. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness, seize, claim and honor it like there’s no tomorrow for in the holy, happy hidden heart of it, life is my greatest gift, meant to be claimed in the here and the now.
Ka Gary continued his laments:
Ang galak at dalamhati ay paano hahatiin
At paano ka pipili kung wala kang pipiliin
Ano ang gagawin ng pusong di mapagbigyan
Ang magkatunggaling pangako at pakiramdam
May isang paruparong paroroo’t paririyan
Sa pagitan ng ngayon at kailanman.
Something stirred in the bathroom. Or more correctly, I imagined something stirred in the bathroom. Got up and checked but found nary a trace of my elusive ghost. Instead I caught a glimpse of the Manila Bulletin lying on the other bed, half-opened to the Foreign News section. Sir Edmund Hilary, first man to conquer Everest, died yesterday. The report featured his exploits with his sherpa guide Tenzing Norgay. What was remarkable was the entry on how Sir Edmund disclosed only after his beloved friend’s death that he was the first man to reach the summit instead of the two of them together. Never seduced by fame, this was a man who did not take the spotlight all by himself when he could have easily done so. Even in death, he remained the humble farmer in New Zealand who never really understood the celebrity status that his exploits brought him.
That small news article led me to thinking that I always have a choice, like every man I meet on the street or in the hospital rounds, or like Sir Edmund; it is the sublime essence of his humanity. A man can lead a frivolous life, trying to win the praise of many with the sleek car he drives to work, with the gadgets and toys that showcase one’s capacity to be both cool and calculating, with the signature clothes and accessories that are meant to define his ultimate acceptance in the social registry. A man can strive to be the best, the strongest, the most influential in the pack, seeking the veneration of others, reveling in their covetousness. He may claw his way to the top, ignoring the rules of the game in order to get to the finish line first, hoping to dominate other people in a vain attempt to hide his own sorry inadequacies. And ah, he can covet fame which is the most obscure quest of all with the full force of his perspicacity only to realize that it is all about hype and image. It has no substance at all and it is only worth the 15 minutes it lasted.
The crooning persisted:
Kung isang araw magtalo ang panata’t panaginip
At ang iisa mong puso minsan magdadalawang isip
Sa kalagitnaan ng pag-asa’t pag-asam
Sa dulo’t bungad ng pinagtagpo’t natagpuan
Ibig kong alamin kung ang pag-ibig may puwang
Sa pagitan ng ngayo’t kailanman.
The past year had been a breakthrough one for me. Got to fulfill my childhood dream of traveling to the US and the UK. For free, no less. Met someone really interesting enough to cause me to feel good about waking up in the morning, often daydreaming of what life would be like in Kyoto (or anywhere else in the world), with her. Rediscovered the bliss of life beyond medicine. Received a complement from my niece Tricia who’s only in preschool that I looked good after losing 28 lbs (13 lbs of which I regained during the holiday season, sigh). And made a lot of great, new friends at FLEX and ALC.
Sometimes, Ka Gary would be interrupted by a call from a nurse, relaying the latest lab results of some patients back home. Or a text message. Good friend George had promised to keep in touch as soon as he was through with work. One of the few people who could see the world in a constant positive light, his life’s journey was not a languid walk in the park, so to speak. His dad succumbed to prostate cancer a few years back, both his mom and sister received treatment for breast cancer, and he had seen some really difficult times himself. But these misfortunes did not prevent him from leading a productive, grounded and happy existence.. He might just be the template for a contented life but he would often beg to differ, saying “Not me, Doc, I have done certain things…”
His shared life-defining principles are worth emulating for their simplicity and sincerity: (1) I will not use people for my selfish desires. (2) I will not agree to anything that will go against my personal will. (3) I will always view the good in all situations. (4) I will endeavor to create value in every thing I do. (5) I will welcome change as an opportunity for growth. And (6) Every human being loves and is loved by someone else. My dear Auntie Grace added my 7th, something that I remember her telling me way back in high school: “That the human being next to you is someone whom Christ died on the cross for and thus deserves your love, respect and goodwill.”
George also taught me the art of letting go, about being able to discern the meaning between holding on to something and simply allowing things to fall by the wayside where they are meant to be. A few days later, there was a conversation about respecting one’s space in the context of recent personal turmoil and professional advancements, stressors of modern life as researches have shown. Sad maybe, but that’s the essence of a friendship that was based on mutual respect: it allows individuals to move on, in pursuit of their respective personal journeys. Who can tell that people sometimes suddenly decide to get off the bus and take another means of transportation or quietly end one journey to start another? Always in search of the source of their deepest gladness and loftiest dreams, no matter how remotely attainable they may be. Life simply taught a lesson that nobody in this realm is indispensable; that nothing is too precious to give up or too mundane to cling to, in the face of life’s dynamic ebbs and flows. Whether paths do cross again is only within the sovereignty of Time, and friends like foes, colleagues and competitors alike, even kin and strangers simply have to trust their respective journeys. As they say, one cannot simply assign his own happiness on another.
In the end, Ka Gary was reduced to asking the questions.
Ano ang sukatan, alin ba ang mas mabigat
… Ang tunay ba o nararapat
People with cancer lead the most eloquent lives. My patients cannot simply feign boldness when they are so vastly fearful for the people, their loved ones and significant others, whom they might leave behind. They cannot fake happiness when the mere thought of what there is to come unnerves and shakes them to the core. And they cannot simulate peace when the mayhem within consumes the chaos without, when the uncertainty of life itself is made more conspicuously real by every new symptom that the body complains about. These are the people who live in the here and now, who seize every chance at happiness they can lay their hands on without remorse or reluctance. I guess when people start realizing that death is very much a part of life, they start living for real. No pretensions, no conventions, only opportunities that every breathing grants; they live for the moment, in full passion. That life itself is grace is something that these people have constantly shown me.
This is the reason why I would always advocate for full disclosure instead of the usual Pinoy belief that it is best not to tell the patient of his diagnosis. In this country, the patients are usually the last to know about their cancer diagnosis because families believe that doing so might only send them to further depression. Mamamatay sa lungkot at sama ng loob. But regret burns the soul like the vortex of a raging storm. Imagine this scenario: You tell yourself you should do this—or perhaps tell others what you are going to do—then at the last minute put it off. You keep saying next time, next time, and not even forgetting it, promised yourself you’ll get to it the earliest possible. Then something happens, in the heat of the moment, in the aftermath of a conflict, in the discomfiture of secrets and deceits, in the vacuum of unasked questions. And you still simply tell yourself, sige lang, kaya pa, sa susunod na lang. But all of the sudden, cancer struck, death ensues. All that you wish to say or do, all you wanted to fix, all the mercies you seek or the revenge you want, all the matters you wish to prove, are abruptly, unceremoniously eliminated with the flat line in the monitor. And everything else ends. Not even a single word. Too late.
What could be more pathetic than this?
The rain had come to an abrupt halt, slowly allowing the light and warmth to seep through the previously frosted glass window of the room. Darn, I just missed my Manila Hotel ghost. Another missed opportunity, I told myself. Or just plain urban legend.
But I got to thinking, haven’t I just confronted my inner ghosts along with Ka Gary’s laments? In the stillness of this room, in the rhythm of my own breathing, in a morning bathed with conscious detachment, I have just made peace with my inner ghosts, those cataleptic stirrings that are beyond the perception of the senses but upset my every waking moment. People in the theater are familiar with the superstition that when an emptied theater is ever left completely dark, a ghost will take up residence. To prevent this, a single “ghost light” is left burning at center stage after the audience and all of the actors and the company have gone home. I have probably failed to leave my “ghost light” aflame that ghosts have long since resided in my inner self.
My ghost hunting was not a worthless exercise after all; I whispered a prayer of thanks.
I stood up, ready to face the hustle of the day, I retrieved my coat in the closet. Then I noticed some faint scribbling on the cabinet wall, I WAS HERE. Who could have left it here? A kid who got hold of a pencil? A troubled young man in search of something to vandalize? A blissful young bride after the honeymoon wishing to come back to this room 10 years later and hoping to find her scrawling still intact? Or an old soul at the end of his life’s journey wishing to leave some imprint behind?
It was something too tempting to resist, the urge to grab my pen and write I WAS HERE—NPP as well. But nah, after discovering my ghosts I might just invest my energies in the intangibles and the permanent and the immeasurable. I will instead assert my presence in my profession, in my patients’ lives, in my relationships with family, friends and strangers, putting I WAS HERE in their hearts where everything matters. Enough proof that when this grace of life is taken back by my Creator, people will remember that I too passed this way.
Copyright 2008 Philippine Daily Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
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