Today was a joyous occasion for the Hope of God Manila church, as our pastor, Soradej Meesaengtham, married Eunice Tan, in simply ceremonies at Fernwood Garden in Quezon City. It's a beautiful place, with swans and cygnets frolicking with carp in pools scattered throughout the garden, and parakeets, cockatoos, and peacocks observing the festivities from tree branches hanging overhead. It went exquisitely well. I sang a song slightly offkey, forgivable, I trust and hope, given that the wrong version was played by the sound system technicians, and hosted the reception ceremonies with my beautiful wife Cathy.
A second celebration was held from 5-7PM at the Hope Church along Aurora Boulevard. I sang three other songs there; I also hosted a special number prepared by the church subdistrict to which I belong.
That's the good news.
The bad news is this: in the middle of the second song, my head began to ache. It got progressively worse until it felt like my head was a peanut being crushed underfoot by a 350-pound football player. I continued to sing, though, and acknowledged a third song requested by the couple. I got through that, but stepping backstage, I felt like my head was going to explode.
It was a pain I'd never ever experienced before. I wanted to cry so badly, but didn't want to worry the other members of the band (too late, though - they noticed me clutching my temples in pain and rushed out to get Cathy). She came in and asked if I was okay - which I wasn't. I told her that my head was in a huge amount of pain, and she moved me to the table where she was seated - with the other pastors and visitors from Thailand. I couldn't let them see that I was suffering, so I put up a brave face. Later on, I hosted that special number I mentioned earlier, and during one of the spiels, I actually said, "Ow, ow, ow" without thinking about it. Nuts.
As I type this at Netopia while waiting for Cathy to finish her shopping and my head feeling slightly better, I wonder if this is my wakeup call, the sign that, like everyone else in the world, I am not immortal. I could wake up the next morning, prepare for praise and worship, and make myself a cup of coffee, telling myself, "this'll be fine with a croissant," and God could say, "Okay, fine, have your croissant, but afterwards, that's it." And I collapse on the kitchen floor.
I mean, come on, I genuinely thought some blood vessel burst in my head and I was going to die! To think this at 28 is sad. I'm supposed to have my life ahead of me, but then again, God does make things happen for a reason. I'm scheduled for a checkup next week, and I gotta admit, I'm a little unnerved. What if I discover some kind of tumor in my head? What if I find out that all those chocolates and ice cream have taken their toll, and I'm now diabetic? What if I find that I've got cancer of the [insert body part here]?
I used to think I'm a superblessed kid, and I still know I'm superblessed, but I'm not a kid anymore, I'm a 28-year-old who has a hard time bending over because I'm too obese for my own good. While my head was pounding, I noticed I actually wasn't breathing normally: I'd breathe, then I stopped breathing until I actually needed to take a breath from lack of air. In light of my medical history, I could be chronic for something, I don't know what, and I'm unnerved, not out of fear of death, but more of what my family would do without me,
This is all my fault, and I blame KitKat Chunky White. LOL
What happens if I die? My insurance is paid, so Cathy and Nathan won't be left without anything, but there are questions. If I get a stroke or something, and become a vegetable, will I become a Terri Shiavo? [Pull the plug.] Will my son actually remember me if I die at this point in his life? [Mental note: take more videos with you in the frame, Ganns.] Will Cathy remarry? [She has my wishes to.] Will Nathan grow up without a father figure? [As if I'm the template! Hello!] Will Wilson Phillips ever reach #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 ever again? [No.]
Mortality sucks balls to begin with, and it sucks more when it's your mortality of which you're aware. Meanwhile, I continue to pray, and if you've time, a little prayer for me and my checkup'd be nice. Be superblessed, y'all.