Our cherished gift
Cal’s birth was a most awaited event in both my family and that of my son-in-law. She is the first grandchild in the two families, and everyone was looking forward to her birth. After all, it took all of six years after her parents’ wedding for her to come to be.
And so Cal arrived at close to midnight on March 29, 2009, and there was much rejoicing. But it was not for long. She appeared not to be going the way other babies do. We thought it was just delayed growth, but after several tests the dreaded diagnosis came: Cal has cerebral palsy, the athetoid type. The generic definition of this type of cerebral palsy is “a group of nonprogressive, noncontagious motor conditions that cause physical disability in human development, chiefly in the areas of body movement.”
The portion of the brain that controls motor development was not fully developed. We were worried that this condition might have been inherited down the line but the doctors assured us that it is not, and that it could occur during pregnancy and during and after birth.
Thus began countless trips to doctors and therapists. Cal maintains a rather busy schedule. She sees three physical therapists and three occupational therapists separately every week. Add to these monthly visits to her pediatrician and every-six-months visits to her dentist. She also attended a toddler’s integrated school this past school year.
In the past three years, Cal has responded positively to her therapies. She loves swimming. Slowly she is learning how to speak, and any new word she utters is music to our ears. Her vocabulary now includes such expressions as “Oh, no!” and “Eww!” She can now count from one to 10, and she sings her alphabet song although it does not come out loud and clear. Only recently, she went for an eye checkup and the ophthalmologist was happy to learn that she can read the letters shown on the screen. She was diagnosed with 20/20 vision. She now has to wear her eye patch every other day instead of daily for three hours in the morning so she does not go cross-eyed.
Cal loves to practice walking and to dance Gangnam style. “Yaya” Weng can only smile in amusement through her tiredness when her ward is in dancing mode! Football is her game. Her Mama props her up and Yaya chases the ball she kicks and gives it back to her. It’s really tiring for the two adults, but you should hear Cal shout in merry laughter—laughter that evokes Browning’s “first fine careless rapture.”
She would feign a cough and tell her Mama she’s not going to school the next day and will instead go to Doc Marissa. Or she would make believe that she is Abby and Yaya Weng is Yaya Maya. Blame it on the telenovelas that everybody watches. Or she would pretend that she’s Doc Cal and has her toy stethoscope hanging from her neck for the most part of the day. But Mickey Mouse is the love of her life, with Dora a close second. And she loves to ride the carousel and watch the fountain at Robinson’s Magnolia.
Cal’s dad is a pet lover, and now so is Cal. She now has a menagerie comprising: a pet parrot which she named Oompah; two pugs—a mother and son named Lilo and Max; a golden retriever called Frodo; an arowana; several koi; a black, polka-dotted stingray; a turtle; a rooster and a hen—yes, the hen has laid several eggs; and at least three pairs of love birds! There was an albino frog but it did not live long. And when Cal met our dog, Oscar, they took to each other like fish to water. Cal became Oscar’s protector and guardian; she gets angry and cries at the slightest attempt of anyone to scold the dog if he misbehaves.
She calls me “Lola” and addresses her paternal grandparents as “Amah” and “Kong-Kong.” Amah lovingly resents Cal’s therapists because she feels that they are hurting the child, but she also understands that Cal has to undertake the treatments. Yet she can never be convinced to attend Cal’s sessions. Kong-Kong spoils Cal with M&Ms and junk food and gladly switches the TV channels to the programs that Cal loves to watch. Amah and Cal’s parents are dismayed, but they shake their heads and let Kong-Kong have his way.
My eldest son is her baptismal godfather and she calls him “Ninong.” He takes her shopping and buys stuff that she likes. Cal smiles her sweetest when Ninong is around and plays and talks with her. My sister and brother-in-law have also joined her coterie of fans. She calls them “Mima” and “Lolo,” respectively. Lolo buys her Dora and Mickey Mouse bags and toys and would promise her the moon if she wants it.
All of us attend Cal’s school activities to root for her. On Recognition Day, she was given an achievement award. Her mom was teary-eyed and I felt a lump in my throat when Yaya carried her to the stage to receive her certificate. Yes, indeed, she is a work in progress!
Everything is grace and Cal is God’s gift to us. Like any precious gift, she is cherished and loved. She is never looked upon as a burden even if the going gets rough sometimes. She has drawn all of us closer to our God and to one another.
Cal has a long way to go, but at every stop and turn I am hopeful that her progress will continue unimpeded. And every time I go for my weekly “apo-stolate” (a term coined by my church group for the grandmas who miss their duty in church to babysit their grandchildren), I walk in faith. I feel a certain elation, a wonderful feeling that the Good Shepherd is with me, working His miracle on Cal, guiding and leading our family to a brighter tomorrow.
Cristina M. Gamboa, 73, retired from the corporate world in 2000 and is now a volunteer church worker at the Our Lady of the Pillar Parish in Las Piñas City.
