That day I discovered mindfulness

Today I woke up mindful, choosing to acknowledge the things that make me happy. Happiness for me meant first and foremost, I am breathing, I am alive because that is everything.

I am not angry with anyone and most of all, I am not angry with myself.

I am not in pain.

Actually, when I think about it, our tendency is that we always whine when we have a headache or a head cold or pain in my back, etc but we rarely acknowledge when we’re feeling stellar. And today, I am feeling stellar. I don’t even feel bloated. Heh.

My jeans are not choking me to death, I have breathing room in my waist, the fit is perfect (I finally found my soul mate jeans and it makes a whole new difference in my life! So it may be easy to say that one of the keys to happiness is owning a pair of jeans that fits you perfectly!), my blouse is just right and I even have the most comfortable shoes even if I was running this morning on the way to work.

Life is not perfect. We have challenges in our midst, especially right now that my husband has taken a different career path that has no surety or guarantee but he is certainly happier and his less stressful days has made everyone in the house breathe a little easier. And smile more.

A few days ago while my husband and I were in the car driving through traffic in one of Dubai’s notorious for traffic road (Ittihad road, I’m talking about you!), we talked about depression. That there are days when I feel I am in the brink of depression (he was actually surprised about this revelation) but I found out why and what drives me to that edge: it’s over thinking. Over thinking about the future, over thinking of the little things that are beyond my control.

“Come to think of it, thinking seriously of the future is scary…mostly because we don’t know what’s in store for us. We cannot see what’s ahead and that makes me feel jittery.” I began my monologue.

“But the best way to predict the future is to create it, now.”, he said. We just need to paddle through this ocean of life together

Lately, I’ve feel I’m sleepwalking through life: waking up early to exercise, making breakfast, packing lunch, taking a bath, catching the train to work, working for 9 hours, back home, dinner, take kids baths, bed time stories, sleep and repeat. In the rush to accomplish necessary tasks, I find myself losing connection with the present moment—missing out on what I’m doing and how I’m feeling. Do I notice whether I feel well-rested in the morning or if the sky had clouds along my morning route to work?

No. But today, I acknowledge that I am well rested and there were some interesting clouds in the sky.

Hmmm, being mindful is actually nice. I like it and wish I would be like this every day. Being mindful sounds like a great idea, but it’s hard because life is filled with so many distractions – to do lists, e-mails, social media, not to mention those pesky little things called thoughts!  I’ve read that mindfulness takes a lot of work, but the good news is that the longer you practice, the easier it gets, and the more joyful your life becomes.

That said, mindfulness isn’t about being happy all the time. It’s about acceptance of the moment we’re in and feeling whatever we feel without trying to resist or control it.

So today, I walked toward the end of our office building to see a work colleague and greet her good morning and tell her I’m happy, because I’m a little more mindful and it feels so great.

Vacation can’t come sooner


Hi, how was your weekend? Ours was spent just at home, rummaging through things, cleaning, cleaning and cleaning. Also, I had a very strong urge to pack. The kind of OMG-I’m-going-for-vacation-I-need-to-pack kind of excitement that can’t be helped.

My daughter asked me when we’re going and I said, roughly seven weeks from now and she looked at me with one eyebrow raised (seriously, I didn’t think an 11 year old can raise one eyebrow). She looked at me like I grew another head.

The thing is, I get OCD when it comes to packing for vacation. When I was a student in Japan back in the day and go back to my home town every year, during December, I used to pack a month before. And because I did not have that much clothes, I would take clothes to wear from the bag, laundry it and put it back in the bag again and not in the closet. Crazy, I know.

There’s something about packing the bag that gets me pumped up for the trip! It’s been SEVEN years since I was back in my birth country so I won’t lie – I am excited although my sister has doused my vacation mode fire by telling me it’s hot, we don’t have aircon in our house back home, I’d probably be shocked with the sky high prices of things since I was last there, the traffic has gotten worse, etc, etc. 

But more than anything else, I am excited to take the kids to my home town. My father will see Benjamin for the first time and Pristine had not been there for seven years as too.

Top photo credit

It’s Mother’s Day and I’m the bad person tonight

mother and daughter

It’s Mother’s Day and I came home from a full day’s work. It’s 37 degrees Celsius (98.6F) in Dubai at 6 pm. Our house is a good 20 minutes walk from the nearest Metro station. I am drenched in sweat. Sunday is normal work day in the UAE (Middle East) so don’t be surprised why I am reporting for work on a Sunday – as do other holidays like Easter Sunday or Christmas…those are working days as well.

My preteen hands me out a birthday invitation from one of her classmates. It’s going to be in one of the popular facility with huge trampolines where you can jump all you can, with friends. She’s excited. I am certainly not.

I know I am guilty of being what’s called a semi (not full blown!) “helicopter parent”, especially when it’s about safety. I hover too much, especially when we are in the water, when they are young and incapable. I had been called overprotective and strict when I refused my 7 year old to go to the movies alone with her classmate.

I had to gather strength to politely say no to this particular birthday invitation and I see the disappointment in her eyes. I can’t blame her – if I was her age, I would sulk too and I did when I was younger. There had been countless times I was not permitted to go out with my friends because my parents foresee danger. I’ve never done sleepovers. EVER.

At this point I think I’m beginning to sound like my parents, specifically my father. We were watching a news program one night in the 80’s, I think I was about 12 or 13 and the news anchor talks about a group of teenager drowning in the river (or was it beach? I couldn’t remember) and here’s what my father said, “If those boys and girls stayed at home, they could have been alive now.”

Why did we say no to this invitation of a day of fun with giggling preteens jumping on trampolines?

Along with the invitation card, the venue of the party she will be attending included a waiver in which parents/guardians need to sign. It read:

“You acknowledge that the activity is potentially dangerous and that by participating in the activity the child will be exposed to the possibility of personal injury.”

“You acknowledge that the recreational activities can be dangerous with many inherent risks and hazards. As a consequence personal injury, and sometimes fatality, can occur. You voluntarily assume and accept all such risks and waive the right to sue the facility for any personal injury or fatality by signing the facility’s waiver form.”

…basically, they could not be held liable for whatever happens with the child within their facility.

I won’t judge parents who readily sign those kind of waiver forms in the name of FUN. But I simply cannot sign it and hand over my child there. My child could hate me…I am sure she already does as I write this post. I am on the fence to be soft to let her understand that I am not that entity that robs her of all the fun, that I am mainly concerned of safety because I wish for us to be together longer. And that she can still have fun with minimal risk, without that scary waiver hovering over her parents head and driving them crazy until the party is over.

We could argue all day long that ALL activities pose some kind of danger. Your call. But mine too. Your child, my child.

As real and raw as this sounds, trying to strike a balance between honoring our kids, pushing them to fly, and protecting them is a challenge. I can already imagine it being more difficult from now on. Tonight, someone in my house thinks I am a bad person, the taker of joy. She doesn’t say anything but I can read her mind and it’s all in her eyes.

Our daughter is 11. We don’t have any issues with birthday parties held at home/restaurants, etc or pool parties with adult supervision but we abhor signing waivers from facilities that wash hands from any liabilities that could arise.

Top photo credit

All about orange and turquoise

orange and turquoise

My siblings and I are building a house for our parents – we tore down the house where we all grew up in, in the Philippines to build a new one; the one our parents really dreamed about. The house is almost finished now and we are just deciding on things to put in because we are replacing everything to new from big stuff like sofas, beds, cabinets etc., to small things like curtains, mats, towels, beddings and cushion covers (<- I totally made up this one, because…why not).

Top photo source: Pinterest

I am excited as if it is my house because finally I can put up things I like (with the approval of my FIVE other siblings though…but they are pretty easy to negotiate hee hee). As a forever renter, things like this excite me. I have projects lined up like making a photo gallery wall, making a DIY Roman blind…for a non-crafty person like me, this is too good to be true.

That said, I have been spending too much time on Etsy lately.

I would like our new house to have lively colors that pop. I’m thinking Orange! Turquoise! Teal! (you just need to look around the design on my blog to see the obvious…I love these colors!) My first family had been living long enough in a very dull, messy house (we have four boys in the family!) so it’s time we enjoy a more decent living space that’s pretty.

I found these beautiful, colorful living rooms.

living roomSource: Pinterest

living room

Source: Pinterest

living room

Source: Pinterest

Don’t you think the whole house seems to jump out of life with this color, particularly orange? If you are an orange lover, that is. But whatever. I like these colors. My brother has bought a dark brown couch and I am in a hunt for colorful cushion covers. I found these.

orange 1

Source: Etsy

turq 1

Source: Etsy

Very difficult to choose from so many designs! But orange and turquoise aside, I found this uber cute Totoro pillow covers, too! I would like to buy these and put these small cushions in the bedroom. My son’s reaction would be precious!


Source: Etsy

totoro 2

Source: Etsy

If you’re a Studio Ghibli fan (Totoro, Spirited Away, Howl’s Moving Castle, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke, ring a bell?), I know you’d go crazy with this Totoro pillow cover too!

Back to putting some splash of color in the living room, I am in love with these accent chairs.

accent chair 1

Source: Pinterest

orange accent chair

Source: Pinterest

Nothing like cute funky colored chairs to break up the cream walls, hey.

So, what do you think? I know we all have our color preferences and yep because this is my blog, you are not allowed to bash my orange and turquoise thingie because that’s my ‘in thing’ for now, maybe it will change when I am older, I don’t know. But heck, life is too short to live on all beige!

That long, nervous, stressful week


Hello unfazed, beautiful people. How was your week? Mine had been a nightmare.

I had a pregnancy scare.

Just to be clear, it was nothing but a scare. I am not pregnant and hope not to be until my uterus wilts into my old age…which is soon.

For the past years or so, my period came like clockwork. I don’t even notice them or made a big deal about them. They come, they go. And we were careful, though following the natural family planning method. No accidents, no scare. Until recently. My husband brushed off my panic and worries by saying it’s just like one of those few times in the past when my period schedule gets wonky and I end up in the ob clinic prescribed with hormone medicine Primolut and get terrible hormonal side effects which makes me act like a complete mental case.

After 5 days of nervous waiting, I booked a doctor’s appointment at a lady clinic before the weekend last week.

It’s difficult to go on with this post without delving into some gruesome details but I will try my best. These past few days had been some trying times for me. I say for me because the husband didn’t seem to mind – could be pregnant? Ok, then, what’s another more? He even marvelled at what could be a miracle. And started thinking and suggesting baby names! Oh my God. I mean, I should be grateful really. He didn’t see it as a “mistake” but a blessing.

(My sister also offered to keep the baby if I didn’t want it, like it’s only a puppy LOL!)

But what really is “another one more”?

For me, it meant a LOT. It means a different life that I have to live. It meant a few more years down the lane spent in sleepless nights, dirty diapers, leaking boobs and vaccination schedules and bawling over excess baby weight that doesn’t seem to come off etc. I could go on and on and on and ooooon! Never mind I would probably be having a difficult birth again that might end up in c-section when I still haven’t gotten over the fear, pain and trauma of the last one almost four years ago.

I have done my share of those difficult days and nights and at (almost) 39, I shouldn’t be doing those baby stuff any more. I am just slowly reclaiming my life, sleeping for a decent number of hours without someone attached to one part of my body sometimes all through the night, slowly going back to my pre-pregnancy health and composure (I had a complicated and life threatening birth with my last) and enjoying some bits of freedom.

I have done a home pregnancy test and it turned out negative. But still without the period, these are the things that ran through my restless mind:

What if I did the test wrong?

Should I have chosen the more modern and high tech and probably more accurate digital pregnancy test stick that was 3x more expensive? I realized after testing with a non-popular brand that you can’t really buy peace of mind!

What is it is a false negative? I have been Googling too much false negative stories and 10 negative tests and still ended up pregnant horror stories in Yahoo Answers.

There’s no cure and end to the anxiety.

For the record, I certainly didn’t feel pregnant – I’ve had two pregnancies in the past (oh scratch, that and make that three – I had an ectopic pregnancy in 2010 before Benjamin) and this time, I really don’t feel or look pregnant. But what do I know? My mother who birthed six children said not all pregnancies are the same.

Why do I always think of my mother in times like this??

But I’m craving chocolate, Doritos, and carbs like nobody’s business, so everything must be okay, right? But what if I’m getting those cravings because I’m pregnant?

Women – we never win.

I’ve been sober everyday last week and felt selfish crying over a possible pregnancy but in my defense, I think I already deserve a break. A break from the sleepless nights and the heartbreak over leaving the baby at 3 months old to return to work, a break from pumping breast milk in my hiding area in the office to provide supply the high demand of my son. For a while, I feel like a cow and I would cry from desperation if I can’t reach the quota and it may mean my baby will be hungry and then I have to go home and feed him directly.

I exclusively breastfed for more than 2 years each baby. And yes, my boobs are soft and saggy like a deflated balloon now, thankyouverymuch. 

So I got my period and right now, I feel like I’ve been given another lease at life.

For the first time in a week, I was able to sleep properly and peacefully thinking, I will wake up un-pregnant. I can continue with my fitness journey! My boobs won’t be slaves anymore! I can continue with my travel plans! Benjamin won’t be a middle child, yay!

But first, a plan. Because I don’t want to go through this torture again.

Kids, grades and homework


I got an email from Pristine’s teacher a few days ago asking for a preferred date to meet. No, she is not in trouble or something. The school reports have been sent home so the school is setting up dates and times for parents to meet the class teachers so they can voice out their respective concerns. I looked at the dates and times – all are on weekdays and of course, on hours where my butt needs to be: at my chair at work.

I’ve attended the previous parent’s meeting by asking permission to go home earlier than my 6pm time off. I got the permission but not after hearing some words I didn’t want to hear. Not really harsh but also not too considerate. What can a working mom do?

This was the general comment of the class teacher of my daughter:

“Pristine is a pleasure to teach. She has a kind, caring and bubbly personality. She enjoys riddles, jokes and puzzles as well as reading and playing with her friends. She has a very good relationship with her peers and adults in school which is based on respect. Her mature approach to her learning and the high expectations she sets herself means she takes ownership over her own education and making very good progress.”

Those words. Suddenly, the steep school fees were worth it.

Additional comment from the teacher in his email to me this morning when I said I couldn’t meet him for the parent’s meeting:

“No worries at all. Pristine is progressing well. She is a talented mathematician and is beginning to show some flair in her fictional writing which I am quite happy with. She continually contributes to lessons and shows pride in the work completed in class.”

Her highest mark is Mathematics which I could not, for the life of me, get any credit for. Math has always been my weakness and until now, I am not friends with numbers. From all her teacher’s comments, I can only vouch that the “bubbly” part is from my DNA. The others, from her dad.

Pristine and dad

~ don’t look at him too hard, he is not used to being featured on this blog! ~

That said, our young student is not perfect. No one is but there is a flaw that puzzles me and I still don’t know how to approach this: it seems that sometimes, her home work is incomplete.

“…she will need to fully complete her homework for submission on Tuesdays as there are times when some parts are omitted.”

So how does that work? She is excellent in doing everything required during class, but slacking in homework? Don’t I check? Great question and I will not lie.

I don’t check everyday.

When I get home from work, I give the other kid a cuddle, attention, bath and have dinner. I ask Pristine if everything is fine and if she says ok, I leave it at that. I have had too much faith. But now seeing her report card and her teacher’s comment about her homework, I told her this needs to be corrected. And I hope she does because yep, I can’t check every night. I could but sometimes I am a lazy mom. On some nights, I just want to recharge so I can tackle another day. Or else, I feel I’d break.

(Where is the other parent in this equation, you ask. Good question again. His work time doesn’t allow him to be always there before our bed time, and we all have accepted that. The Math DNA is enough contribution.)

But part of me says, “Don’t be too hard since she is doing well at school”…but homework is important too, right? I never miss completing my homework when I was still a student and my parents never had to nag about it. My husband, on the other hand, admitted he slacked with the homework part when he was young (But he excelled in every subject and was a constant honor student.) so Pristine probably got this from him.

Can you see the pattern? We are playing the “from which DNA” game.

* Apart from homework which they are given grades for too, her grades for all other subjects are excellent.

Anyway, are you a parent? What will you tell your child without discrediting about incomplete homework if he/she is doing very well in school (in terms of grades)?

Happy New Year 2015!

Happy New Year 2015

What do I look forward to in 2015? Health, first and foremost, going back to see my family (my father has not ‘met’ my son), more peace of mind, focusing more on blogging and probably less time spent on social media (boy, they sure are thieves of time!).

So…how did your city celebrate the new year?

Last year, Dubai set the world record for the largest fireworks display, with 479,651 shells fired in just six minutes on New Year’s Eve. This year, Dubai took the world record for the largest LED-illuminated facade. Burj Khalifa has been wrapped with LED panels with a total area of 32,467 sq metres, surpassing the existing record held by Mall Taman Anggrek in Indonesia, with the LED screen area around Burj Khalifa nearly 3.75 times larger. Source

Here’s what happened at Downtown Dubai, dubbed as “the center of now” during New Year’s eve:

We stayed at home because we learned, that the best way to see the fireworks display on new year’s is at the comfort of home, with champagne in hand. Heh. I know the euphoria of the crowd would have been very exciting but the need to get to the venue hours before midnight, standing for long hours in the cold (my being too realistic puts me off..what about toilets?) and the struggle to go home after smoke clears off…I have heard of horrible stories and being outside, with dead legs and a hungry stomach is not my idea of spending the first day of the new year.

But that’s just me.

I still dream of being outside in Times Square though one day…but that could be just a dream because I don’t want to wear adult diapers…(one of my friends actually said that could be the solution of my there’s-no-toilet-and-I-need-to-go scare)

Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful new year celebrations, however you spent it and I hope all the best for you and your family in 2015!

Top photo credit

Thoughts on turning 38


One rainy day in 1996, my father came home with an unusual glow in his face. He looked like he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t. It’s the first time he’d acted like that and it felt weird. He is usually pretty chatty about everything and would exaggerate stories with elaborate hand gestures and facial expressions that never fail to entertain. However, when he came in the door that day, he looked at me and handed me…a letter.

(With a daughter who’s addicted to all things Harry Potter, I am tempted to say “Hogwart’s Letter – though it almost had the same effect.)

A few weeks earlier, I took a qualifying scholarship exam to study in Japan. And that letter was all about it.

I passed the exam and would be leaving home and my father could not contain his excitement and afraid to miss all the right words if he’d speak it so he wrote it down instead.This was 1996 when we didn’t have cellphones to send text messages or internet for Facebook messages. It was the good old handwritten letters period in time.

So a couple of days back, I turned 38. Yeah, whatever. It’s another birthday but turning 38 wasn’t just “another birthday” this time. I was 19 when I left home so that meant half of my life have been spent living abroad. It has been 19 years since I got my father’s letter.

(Left is the photo when I first got my passport at 19, the right is double my age at 38)

19 and 38

How does it feel turning 38?

When I was 13, I looked at my mother who turned 38 and just had her sixth baby and thought, “how am I going to handle being 38? I could not possibly do it better than her!” I admit I was scared of aging because it meant more responsibilities, more children! Funny because at that time, I thought the number of children was genetic – if my mom had six, I would probably have six too or around that big number. It was a crazy thought but nevertheless it felt so true that time!

Yes, there are more responsibilities now but thankfully, lesser than six children (I only have two, that is all I can manage!).The morning I turned 38, I didn’t think of the party I’d be doing (because I don’t like parties so there’s no party) I got up and stood on my own two feet and realized my world is full of possibilities. I have a healthy family, a safe and cozy home and dreams to pursue. I have the luxury to think about the things I want to do, not just the things I have to do.I love where I am in my life right now. The past year had been so good I wonder what I did to deserve it.

But the very best part is that all of this wonder is only part of my unfolding story. Because, I’m only 38.

Benjamin birthday

Me, the party pooper

Benjamin birthday

I feel bad every time one of my children’s birthday nears. Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for another year of good health and thankful for each of the 365 days I hold them. But the usual and almost obligatory birthday parties (depending on which culture you came from!) or some sort of celebration – that always gets me.

I suck at party planning.

I admire people who can pull off party planning like a pro. People who make Pinterest boards and mood and vision boards of the perfect party, moms who make a real effort to make birthdays colorful and themed and all things bright and wonderful. My friends Abi of Cuddles and Crumbs who makes very creative cakes and Sheila of AB and me who gets excited about party planning and nails it. Lucky kids they have!

Maybe I am being lazy. I don’t like big parties, especially if I have to host it. This is not about the cost at all because we all know with some creativity and resourcefulness, one can create a party within a specific budget.

I am awkward at big parties.

I always feel I do not do well entertaining each and every guest and I think I have to – because they have come out all the way to attend my party. I do not even eat well at parties I host (thankfully it’s not many). I do not remember if I ate anything on my wedding reception. I can’t even remember if we had a vanilla or chocolate cake.

Anyway, it was my son’s third birthday yesterday. If I had to follow my “traditional” thing, that would mean no party, no calling of guests, just family members and probably just have a small cake with 3 little candles to blow and maybe a few balloons just to get the birthday mood in. And many pictures.

Benjamin turns 3

But then I feel guilty and succumb to the “norm”.

I searched and ordered a Nemo cake (Benjamin is into Nemo or The Little Mermaid but I can’t, for the life of me, get him a cake with a half naked, half fish-half human girl on top), I got balloons, took half day off from work to do last minute shopping and went home to cook.

I totally spent all the time in the kitchen that I forgot to take a shower before guests came. Plus I could not find my foundation powder so I had to borrow from a guest (she offered!). How epic fail is that? Oh and my hair – it was overdue for a hair dye session to cover the grey like, 3 weeks ago!

But really, does my young child know it’s even his birthday?


Benjamin’s nanny was so sweet to make this wall decor with Pristine’s help.

The food to prepare for a home party – this is where I suck more.

When I was growing up, we only get to have ice creams and soda and spaghetti or cakes and probably a big roast meat during our birthdays and Christmas. I come from a big family (we are six siblings) so plus our parents’ birthdays and Christmas and New Year, we get to enjoy “special occasion only” food 10 times a year. That’s only 10 times in 365 days.

So every ice cream in cone and spaghetti and cakes are special.

But fast forward to now, we can have ice cream every day if we want it. We cook a pasta dish for the kids at least once a week. Cakes? Whenever we like it at  restaurants when we dine out.

How life has changed.

This is where my party planning attempt goes sour. What food will I cook and serve the guests that’s “party-worthy”? Yada, yada, yada I know you’ll tell me it’s just not about the food but the company! the spirit! the togetherness! yada, yada, yada…but really – it IS about the food too. Personally, I see or feel nothing special about having parties now because all the “party worthy” food has become so normal that it has lost its special meaning.

Does that sound strange? Am I going out of my mind?

We had close family and a few friends last night who enjoyed our “normal” food – maybe even if it’s something they can have everyday. I also enjoyed the evening but man, the things that needed to be done prior – it makes me still think that a party isn’t always necessary (for me – because if that’s your thing, that is totally cool).

But what do I know, maybe I am really just being lazy and think sweeping confetti from the floor at 11 pm is no fun at all.

Is it really IBS?

Blood Sample

An update about my health.

The chronic stomach pain continued after I published my last post. I spent Friday night waking up to pain, TWICE. Saturday was ok, Sunday was not, Monday not…I’ve lost count.

I’m so tired.

The gastroenterologist ordered complete blood test and liver function test along with full abdominal scan to know what it happening with me. He prescribed medicines for IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome – because doctors, they resort to this diagnosis when they are not too sure!) the last time I was there and there had been some improvements – I still have pain attacks but milder though the duration is longer. One time, it started at 9pm and I was only relieved of the pain and slept after midnight.

The blood test revealed I have high count of white blood cells and Eosinophils – a type of white blood cells that will indicate if a person has inflammation or infection. The main functions of eosinophils include involvement in defense against parasites, allergic responses, tissue inflammation and immunity. It is associated with so many diseases that it’s difficult to pinpoint what without further tests.

The scan – they asked me to fast so I did but what they didn’t tell me was that I needed to arrive with a full bladder. I was already very hungry (my appointment was 12 noon and my last meal was 7 pm the previous day!) and on top of that, I was required to chug huge amounts of water to fill my bladder. I drank 10 glasses and waited.

That was one of the shittiest feeling in the world. I almost wanted to throw up!

The nurse said, “Let me know when you can’t really, really hold your pee anymore.” Man, that instruction should include an adult diaper!

My scan showed nothing wrong with my gall bladder (I thought there would be stones or something because that runs in our family), my liver was clean (the radiologist was surprised it is not fatty despite me being overweight, ouch), kidneys fine, spleen ok. “All your organs are beautiful.”

I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.

Now because it was a full abdominal scan, the ultrasound technician discovered something else: bulky, enlarge uterus and possible PCOD (polycystic ovarian disease). But she said this could not be related to my stomach pain because I’m not feeling the pain in my lower abdomen but upper, right below my rib cage. I need to see an ob-gyn soon.

I can’t have a break. Stomach pain and now, problem with my lady bits. Urgh.

The gastro doctor looked at my test results and only told me to continue the IBS meds. That was it. And to not to take too much stress. I am still in pain, in fact, I am in pain while writing this.

My stomach still reacts badly to a lot of food items that I normally ate before without any problems: raw nuts, coconut milk, or anything with coconuts most especially. And…CHOCOLATES.

So now, I’m to continue taking the medicines for IBS and if there is no improvement for a month (is the doctor insane or what? I CANNOT live another month like this – pain attacks almost everyday!!), I will have to undergo endoscopy and stomach biopsy.

But first of all, I may need to find another doctor!

I feel like I only spent a fortune to be told, “your organs are beautiful” and nothing else. No proper diagnosis, no probable solution.

P.S. The funny thing is, the doctor asked me: “Are you eating lots of food from tin cans, drinking milk, soda, eating processed food like sausages and deli meats, high intake of carbohydrates? Because that could cause stomach issues.” I don’t eat any of those foods.