In our cloisters

It’s really hard to get older. First you get sore eyes. Then your blood pressure skyrockets to 180/110. That’s too high! So you go see a cardiologist who gives you maintenance medicines that get your blood pressure went down to 140/90. Now, he says, you can go to Laoag.

In the interim I had lunch with four high school friends. You mean you haven’t been taking maintenance medicines until now? They all asked.

Wait a minute, I said. You mean you’ve all been taking maintenance medicine?

Yes, they said all together. That gave me pause.

When did your BPs go up? I asked.

I don’t know. A long time ago. I can’t remember. They said.

Before or after menopause? I asked. Suddenly at 71, you’re no longer afraid to say the word.

All of them sort of said, I think after.

Did you ever stop to think that for women, maybe it’s normal to get higher blood pressure after menopause? I know I did. Before the big M my blood pressure was at 130/80. After it was usually 150/90. I grant that 180/110 was pretty high but maybe it was normal. And if it was normal then why are we all on maintenance pills?  Maybe it’s the work of pharmaceutical companies who sell the maintenance pills. I think someone should study the effect of menopause of women’s blood pressure and check this out. Don’t you think so?

Please pass the patis, one of them asked another and that put an end to my question.

On top of everything I got a serious case of pharyngitis — painful throat, very bad cough, heavy cold, but according to the doctor no walking pneumonia. But boldly I went to Laoag anyway to teach the nuns creative writing. Last time I was there was to visit my mother’s oldest living sister, who was 95. They are cloistered nuns who live in a convent with dogs, cats, birds and a few other people who help out. Sister Tessa, who once worked at Coca-Cola like me, asked me to come and teach them writing and to make my visit coincide with my aunt’s 96th birthday. Immediately I said I would and was hellbent on keeping my promise — with or without pharyngitis.

 So I went. Four hours waiting at the airport for the plane to take off late. But I got there and could rest in the same bedroom I slept in the last time with the same wide bed covered in the same bedsheets just for me. It was like coming home.

Let me tell you, it was a wonderful vacation. I had three full meals a day. They set the table for me and I ate. That’s two full meals more than I ever ate at home where I have no maid and am too lazy to cook. At 10 a.m. we would meet for class. At first the nuns were shy but when I taught them my writing technique they immediately took to it and slowly began to write so that by the end of the five days I could see they had confidence and joy in their writing and I knew I had done a good job.

 But teaching was only two hours of my day and another hour at night. The rest of the time I went to the chapel and sat there listening to the ladies pray the rosary. Oh Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fire of hell, lead all souls to heaven especially those who are in most need of thy mercy. I could pray that silently with them.  I still knew it from my youth. Then they followed with another short prayer I did not know but sitting there listening to them, sensing the strength of their faith, calmed me.  I totally enjoyed it.

 Every day I had a siesta, some days two hours, on other days one. One day the nuns put me on their jeep and sent me to the beach, to a beautiful house that was put in their care. It was in a deserted portion of the beach. Fe, my companion, said, “The water in that sea is very salty. It is the China Sea,  saltier than the Pacific Ocean. “  The sunset that day was spectacular too.

 In those five days at the nunnery I learned there wasn’t much difference between the nuns’ lives and mine. They were women living together within the cloister’s walls. I was a woman living alone who had voluntarily cloistered herself in her flat.  They were ordinary people who loved God above all else. I am an ordinary person who loves God above all else. The rest of the details just don’t matter.

 So now I have new friends — the nuns. They are wonderful people and take away some of the strain on getting older.

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