Homecoming

 

I arrived home today after a three-day conference in Penang, Malaysia. I was part of a group sponsored by a pharmaceutical company. Yes, one of those trips with convention halls by day, sightseeing tours by late afternoon, and overfeeding sessions by night.

I’m not a big pharma kid. I don’t usually do these things. But I said yes this time, mostly because I knew I’d see old friends, especially Mark and Lowe, my junior fellows from PGH. We used to call ourselves The Fellowship of the Wandering Pacemakers, back when life was all cardiology, backpacking, and piso-fare bookings. Over a decade later, we’ve all gained titles and stopped being poorita, but I’m so grateful that they’ve kept their humility, their laughter, and that quiet way of respecting people. I love them even more for that. It was indeed refreshing to laugh with them again, talking about memories that used to induce anxiety, but now bring only cackles of joy. 

And yet, despite the change in scenery, the trip didn’t really feel like a break. I was constantly sleep-deprived, not just from the travel, but from chasing deadlines in hotel rooms. There were echo backlogs to read, lectures to finish, work that followed me across the sea. So when I finally arrived home, I wasn’t refreshed. I was exhausted. The torrential rains in Manila brought about by habagat also brought with it terrifying air turbulence during my plane ride home. The dread and the exhaustion gave me a pounding headache.

But when I arrived home, my dog Dolphy gave me a wet, sloppy welcome with his licks and cuddles. Then my kids ran to me. Their laughter, their chaos, their sticky little hands pulling me back into the world. I realized this was the medicine I needed.

I had gone away hoping to escape the noise. But in the end, it was the very noise I longed to escape that healed me.

Now I’m back in the mess of it all: the toys, the hugs, the unfinished breakfasts. And more than ever, I know that this is where I’d rather be.