Bruxism and the promdi

Piolo, a friend of PD, recently told him that he suffers from a sleep disorder called bruxism. It is a condition where a person grinds his teeth during sleep and is though to be caused by ‘repressed anxiety,’ to use his words. Apparently, PD was gnashing his teeth to death in his drunken stupor in one of the gang’s outings loud enough for Piolo to hear. PD explained that his mother is also a bruxer (what a term, parang boxer?!) and so it is possible that PD got this disorder from her by some imitation-by-teeth-gnashing mechanism. And, yes, the ‘repressed anxiety’ portion definitely hits the bull’s eye: PD thinks a lot and worries a lot.

PD has no idea when this started, probably while growing up when worrying was an everyday occurrence. PD has this theory that it all started that fateful Sunday night during his first year in high school. That Sunday afternoon he and his tatay were gathering panggatong (they did not have a gas stove and had to use firewood for cooking) as they regularly do.

Gathering panggatong was a usual chore for the neighborhood's children including PD. It was some sort of a communal activity when all the neighbors’ children and fathers bring their itak and head for the barangay’s hillsides, where it was more densely peppered with shrubs, small gemilina trees and other trees ideal for firewood.

At more desperate times these panggatong were sold (or bartered) to augment the family’s meager income.

On that day he and his tatay were gathering firewood nothing was out of the ordinary. His tatay then was a healthy 51-year old. All seemed normal until that night PD woke up to the sound of his tatay’s distress. To his shock and horror, blood was oozing out of his tatay’s mouth and he could hear the mad gurgling of blood as it escaped from his lungs. PD had no idea what was happening and why. What could a child of twelve do except hug his bloody father to comfort himself and cry? His nanay was away in Davao and so could not be relied on for help. In all the madness that it all seemed, did it occur to him to rush his tatay to the hospital? No. His tatay knew all too well that they could not afford a hospital. So they both waited for the mad rushing of blood to stop and when it mercifully did, sleep was a long way coming.

It was the start of perhaps the most traumatic period of PD’s life.

Episodes like that came and went sporadically at home, in church (they did a lot of praying then because that was all that they could do), in the morning and at night. PD has learned to dread those nights and the uselessness and helplessness that his tatay’s attacks made him feel. One time it came when PD was about to go to school. His nanay was still not home so he was left to care for his tatay, who did not (and could not) stop peddling vegetables despite his illness. What would they eat if he did? PD volunteered to skip class to help his father but he refused and told him: “You have to go to school. That’s more important than this.” These lines are forever etched in PD’s heart for they are lines uttered by his beloved, selfless tatay who was clutching his chest while blood was gushing from his mouth. So PD went to school with tears in his eyes and a very heavy heart, fearing what mad scene he will encounter when he went home that afternoon. And dread coming home he always did during those dark days.

If all this is the root cause of his teeth-gnashing, PD will be very grateful. It is a scar he is very proud to wear, for it reminds him of the sacrifices of his selfless and gentle tatay who nudged his son to value education for that was the only thing he could do.