Lunch was at Brotzeit, where we discussed the restaurant’s upcoming summer menu. Later, there was merienda with chef Miko Aspiras, who was introducing Valrhona chocolates to the public. At both venues, I felt nothing out of the ordinary. Like I said, just another day.
Then, on the way home, everything changed.
I took a nap in the car, and when we arrived, I tried unbuckling my seatbelt. That’s when I collapsed. I have only vague memories of what happened next — my driver pulling me up from the ground, surprised to find me there, unconscious. He hadn’t even seen me get out of the car. He carried me to my room, and a few minutes later, my mother checked on me. She immediately noticed I was slurring my words.
I was fortunate. My home is near the University of Santo Tomas Hospital, and that proximity saved my life.
That was Feb. 21, 2024 — the start of what I now call the longest nap of my life.
I recall fragments — my first two nights in the emergency room, where no private rooms were available, but the care from doctors and nurses was impeccable. I vaguely remember visits from my uncles, aunts, friends, and cousins. I met an incredible team of specialists who took charge of my recovery.
But I was drifting in and out of consciousness. I didn’t even realize I had suffered a stroke. All I knew was that I was in a hospital.
It felt like a dream.
To this day, I don’t fully understand what transpired during those months, but I’ve pieced together two life-altering truths from the stories I heard after I recovered.
First, I came dangerously close to death. There’s a story about me and an intubator — a device that keeps airways open to save lives. I needed one. The less I know about those moments, the better. But what I do know is that the medical team at UST Hospital gave me a second chance at life. Words will never be enough to express my gratitude.
Second, my loved ones saved me. Within days of my stroke, my friends — chefs, restaurateurs, and people from the food industry — organized benefit dinners in my name. I wasn’t there, but I’ve seen the photos. So many people showed up — some I knew, others I didn’t. Their kindness leaves me speechless. To each of them, if you’re reading this,my gratitude knows no bounds. Thank you.
Three months later, on May 27, 2024, I woke up. My first Facebook post was simple: “I’m back.” Since then, I’ve learned to walk again. Thankfully, I have no permanent disabilities — thank God for that. But recovery is a journey, and I still have a long way to go.
You’ll hear more about it in this column.
For now, let me just thank you for being part of my grand adventure. I was a writer before, and I am a writer still. And I intend to be one for a long time to come.
This one’s for you. Thank you, dear readers.
