Hypertension and Baguio City

Just got back from Baguio City for the annual MC Weekend of Couples for Christ.  This trip made me aware  that I can never live in the mountains.  The moment my husband and I arrived at our hotel, I felt different already.  I didn't blame it on the high altitude at first but later realized that the mountain altitude had something to do with it.  From our arrival up to our departure for Manila, I had an elevated blood pressure.  The maintenance medications that I took for my hypertension were not effective in stabilizing my blood pressure. 

I have been hypertensive since I was twenty seven years old.  My hypertension was triggered by my first pregnancy.  My obstetrician-gynecologist hoped that my hypertension will disappear once I was not pregnant anymore but it was in vain.  The hypertension stayed up to this day. 

On reading about the relationship of hypertension with high altitude, I found out that as you travel higher, there is less oxygen in the air that you breathe.  With less oxygen getting inside the body, it responds by pumping more blood thereby increasing the heart rate.  In my vocabulary, the increase in heart rate is palpitation.  Palpitation is my tell tale sign that I have high blood pressure.  True enough, when my doctor-friend from Couples for Christ checked my blood pressure, the sphygmometer read 170/90.

To cope with the elevated blood pressure, I rested, refrained from walking up and down and took my medicines.  The slow pace stabilized my blood pressure for a while but it was not my normal blood pressure.  Once in Manila, it started to stabilize only after a day from arrival.  

For future vacations, I should keep in mind to stay away from high altitude places if I want to enjoy.  I will surely miss the bright colors of the Baguio blooms that dot the mountainside and the cool weather. 

Mom's Cooking

What's it with Mom's cooking?  Through the years, I observe that I always looked forward to eating from her dining table.  Even simple viands take a different twist when she herself did the cooking.   I guess what makes Mom's cooking special is that it reminds me of home and at the same time those viands come with stories of my growing up years.

With Mommy

I remember that when I had morning sickness while pregnant with my firstborn, I had a really difficult time.  I would feel sick and vomit after each meal.  I dreaded eating but I have to take something otherwise I would be nauseous.  When my husband and I were invited for Dad's birthday dinner, I succeeded in eating Mom's specialties without throwing up afterwards.  Maybe I took comfort that I was still her little girl even though I already had a family of my own.

My mother was a teacher and took up Home Economics as a specialization.  In her younger years, she was passionate in cooking and baking.  We grew up to her style of cooking even if the cooking was done by a cook.  She trained our cook well to cook like her.  My father knew/knows good food so the cook better shape up.  It is in this environment that I grew up in. 

Up to the last day of my single life, I couldn't cook a meal for dear life.  We always had a cook in the household so there was no need for me to help out in the kitchen.  I learned to cook out of sheer desperation ...  my husband and I's first helper left us after a month.  I was forced to learn cooking by asking Mommy how to do a certain dish.  Later on, I realized that I was heavily influenced by Mommy.  My standard of taste was Mom's.  I wonder if my children will miss my cooking after they have settled in their own homes years from now?

To this day, she still supervises and cooks on special occasions like Christmas and New Year.  I guess habits die hard.

Cooking sotanghon for Noche Buena with Encar, her cook, looking.