Normalcy

She seemed like just another normal kid.

She sat on her bed indian-fashioned, still wearing her jammies. She watched Ice Age with us in the tiny tv screen. She laughed at Sid's antics. She has a dimple on her right cheek that shows whenever she smiles.

Very polite kid, too. Without any prodding from her parents, she offered us candies. She angled the screen towards us so we could see the movie better. She addressed Luz and I as "ate".

As with most ten-year olds, she likes cartoons. Spongebob Squarepants, Jimmy Neutron, Ariel the Little Mermaid. Some other Japanese animations I'm not familiar with.

She told us of her pets and the story behind each of their funny names.

She seemed like just another normal kid. Except for the IV bag of chemo medicine inserted in her vein. And her inch-short hair sticking out in every direction. Her dad stroked her hair and remarked how they should have it fixed. With a small pout, she said, "Kalbo na naman..."

When the nurse came to take off her IV, she tried her best to keep still - just grimacing a little when the adhesive stuck to her skin. When we asked if it hurts whenever they stick a needle into her, she shook her head. It's already been over a year, she said, and she's already gotten used to the monthly treatments.

She missed a year of school, though. When she was diagnosed, she almost became a cripple. The nonchalant way she said it was unnerving: "muntik na nga po ako malumpo nung nagkasakit ako nung isang taon."

Another two years of treatment and she could be well again.

Just a little after the credits of Ice Age rolled, she asked her mother if she could take a bath already. We then said our goodbyes to the family.

And as we watched her wave goodbye, she seemed like just another normal kid.