I received my second dose of Pfizer on Wednesday afternoon. Other than a sore arm, I felt fine. I went back home to work and then went ice skating in the evening. I wanted to get some practice before my test next Tuesday, but I couldn’t do much. All the turning made me dizzy.

I went to bed early, but then I had a terrible dream. My wife was iced cold. Then she pulled the Bill-and-Melinda shit on me. She wanted to get divorce because she can’t no longer grow together with me. What’s happened to the vowel we took? In case she forget, let me remind her: “Rồi mai đây đi trên đường đời / Đừng buông tay âm thầm tìm về cô đơn.” (Later, on the journey through life / Don’t let go of my hand to seek your quiet solitude.)

I woke up and thank goodness it was just a dream. I took off my CPAP mask and just read and wrote in bed. Around 8 AM, I took my oldest son to school to take the standard test. I went back home to work on a project that required full concentration. I told my other son to take his class on his own.

At 10:30 AM, I had to break away from the project to go to my doctor appointment. My internist wanted to touch base on my sleep study. I went back home, had a quick lunch, then went back to work. Without any email interruptions, I finished the project around 3:30 PM. I sent it to my co-worker to check the content.

I put together a study guide for my son for his test the next day. Instead of taking notes, he and I took photos of all the slides his teacher presented. I went back to all the slides and wrote a single page study guide for him to study.

I was planning on taking the kids to the skatepark after they finished with their school, but my headache was getting worse. Then I started to feel chilly. Then my temperature increased. The vaccine had kicked in. I went to bed to rest while my wife took the kids out for pizza and frozen yogurt.

I am heading to bed early tonight and hopefully the reaction will go away tomorrow.

I have not read any of Mr. Caro’s work, but I have heard of his monumental works on Robert Moses and Lyndon Johnson. I picked up this book because I was interested in his researching, interviewing, writing process. Unfortunately, it’s only a collection of his previous essays written for other publications, his interviews, and some new materials. Mr. Caro did state upfront that this book is not what he wanted to write. He is working on a memoir, but he is not sure if he could get it done in time. He is a meticulous writer who takes his time and he is in his 80’s. He just wanted to get this book out just in case he ran out of time. I wish him well and I will hope to get a chance to read his full memoir. This one didn’t do it.

Raksa Yin, co-programming director at AIGA DC, writes:

Hi Donny,

I’m reaching out to say you were nominated into our AAPI Heritage Month social media campaign. Through this campaign in May, we want to highlight AAPI creatives doing interesting works telling their heritage story, showing awareness of AAPI issues or building a safe space for AAPI voices.

I want to say congrats! You will be featured in our upcoming social media campaign with other AAPI creatives. Your Vietnamese Typography stood out and it’s very unique.

I am deeply honored for the nomination.

Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai writes in the New York Times:

It is long overdue that we highlight the costs of wars beyond injuries and casualties, to include the damage still inflicted on our health, our families and our environment. It is long overdue that comprehensive actions be taken to help all victims of Agent Orange, regardless of their nationalities.

Watch the slideshow, “Please Give Me,” I created to raise awareness of the victims of Agent Orange the U.S. has never acknowledged.

As we left my sister’s house around 11:30 pm, I realized that I needed to pick up distilled water. We stopped by CVS. I ran in and looked at the water section. Another man was also looking and he asked, “Are you looking for distilled water?” I replied, “Yes.” He said, “Me too. I needed it for my CPAP tonight.” I replied, “Me too. Let’s ask if they still have it in stock.” He asked the receptionist and she said, “If you don’t see it on our shelf, we ran out.” He asked, “Do you think Walgreens might have it?” She replied, “No.” As we walked out of the store, he said, “Oh shit!”

I went back to our car and told my wife what happened. She quickly looked up Walgreens and it would be closing in 13 minutes. As we headed over, the neon lights started to shut off. I parked the car and ran in quickly. I spotted the same man I encountered earlier carried four jugs of one-gallon distilled water. He told me, “There’s more on the shelf.” I ran back and grabbed one jug.

Even with our masks on, we looked at each other at the checkout with a sigh of relief. I wished him a great night of sleep as we parted. It occurred to me that I am now depending on distill water just like drugs. I dragged my wife and my sleeping children to the store to get my drug. I should have listened to my wife and bought one earlier in the day. I procrastinated until the last minute.

By the time all of us showered and brushed our teeth, it was almost one in the morning. The kids were knocked out, but I was still wide awake. Even the CPAP didn’t really help much.

Klara is an AF (artificial friend) who has the ability to observe her surroundings and the capability to learn human feelings. Through Klara’s narration, we learn about our world through the robot’s insights. Ishighuro is a masterful novelist who gives a voice to a machine. This is a beautiful, breathtaking work of fiction on human connection and loneliness. I highly recommended it for an escapism.

I hesitated to conduct a sleep study because I didn’t want to wear a mask to sleep every night and maybe for the rest of my life. Even though my internist insisted that I didn’t need it, my wife pressured me to do it. She couldn’t stand my snoring even though we have been sleeping in separate rooms with our doors closed.

I brought the issue with internist again and she recommended the Neurology Center of Fairfax. I chose Dr. Cho based on the positive reviews I have read on Google. He turned out to be great. We did a Zoom meeting, in which he asked me a punch of questions. I also asked him about my concern of sleeping with a mask. I am sure he had received this question from patients over and over again. His response was that many of his patients wouldn’t want to sleep without it after they get used to it.

Dr. Cho wanted to conduct a sleep study in the office so he could get a comprehensive diagnosed, but my insurance denied. My insurance wanted me to do a home study first. I went into Dr. Cho’s office to pick up the test machine and one of his specialists provided me detailed instructions for setting up the test at home.

The sleep study machine was uncomfortable, but I got through it. My apnea-hypopnea index (AHI) was 8, which is a mild case for sleep apnea. an AHI of 30 would consider high risk. Dr. Cho wanted me to go into the office to get further testing and my insurance denied again. It wanted me to go ahead with the CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine. Dr. Cho’s staff referred me to the Bay State Medical. Last Wednesday, I went into its office to pick up Philips’s DreamStation 2 Auto CPAP Advanced. A sleep therapy specialist went over the machine with me in details. He also showed me about half a dozens of masks to choose from. I picked out Fisher & Paykel’s Vitera Full Face Mask.

The specialist warned me that the first two weeks might uncomfortable. If I could use it for an hour a night in the first few nights, that would be find. After that I have to use at least four hours in order for the insurance to pay for the equipments. On Wednesday night, I started using the machine immediately. I was surprised how comfortable it felt. To distract myself from the machine and the mask, I read for half an hour before dozing off. The mask kept my mouth closed so I breath mostly through my nose. I don’t think I was snoring anymore. In the first two nights, I felt the pressured kicked in a few times while I was sleeping. The last three nights, I didn’t feel much as I am starting to get used to the machine. I have been using the machine from 6 to 8 hours a night. My AHI is 2.1, which is lower than 5. This is definitely a good sign. At the same time, I am now depending on this technology for a while or maybe for the rest of my life. Scary isn’t it?

Xuân wrapped up his ice skating lessons for the Tot 3/4 level. He did well on the test. Instead of going to Tot 5, I signed him up for Alpha/Beta. He can swizzle forward and backward. He can glide forward on one foot. I taught him forward crossovers and he can do them as well. He is ready for Alpha/Beta.

I wanted him to skip Tot 5 and go to Alpha, but I signed him up a level and a half higher so that we can have lessons on the same day. His new instructor will be the same as my current instructor. Although she is a great coach.

In the past few months, I had always been looking forward to Tuesdays so I can take Đạo, Đán, and Xuân to ice skating lessons together. I spent half an hour with Đán while Đạo and Xuân took their lessons. I read while Đán played some games on my phone or we observed how Đạo and Xuân were doing. Although their classes were at the same time, they were at different levels with different instructors. Then all four of us skated for 20 minutes before my and Đán’s classes began. Although it seemed mundane, I really enjoyed our time together.

I am already feeling a bit sad that Đán might not continue taking lessons after he finishes Gamma/Delta. He is not interested in figure skating. He wants to go into hockey. I asked him to give the Jackson Freestyle figure skates a try, he skated two times around the rink and gave up. He wanted to get back to his hockey skates. He had no patience and gave up too quickly.

I am enjoying Gamma. It is less stressful than Beta. I will take the next level, which is Delta, but not sure if I will continue into Freestyles after Delta. I am not sure if I can handle all the jumpings and spinnings. I am also still looking into switching my skates from hockey to figure.

Đạo has started the transition and he seems to do fine with figure skates even though he still prefers hockey. He wanted to go further into Freestyles. That’s good for him.

As far as expectations, my wife and I disagreed on what we have for the kids. She wanted them to have goals or make some achievements. She wanted them to work toward joining a hockey team or competing in figure skates. For me, I do not have any expectations. If they want to join a hockey team or compete, I will definitely support them. Otherwise, I am fine with them just skating and taking lessons for recreation. As long as they get off their butts and out of the house, I am satisfied.

I am 43 today. For my birthday, I gifted myself a DreamStation 2, which is a PlayStation for grown men with sleep apnea. Yes, I have been diagnosed with a mild case of apnea. I started using the CPAP machine last night and it didn’t feel so bad. The mask covered both my nose and mouth. It forced my mouth closed; therefore, I was not snoring. At least I thought I didn’t. I breathed mostly through my nose, which is the proper way to breathe.

42 was the most horrendous year of my life. In addition to the pandemic, I have lost both of my parents a month apart. I still haven’t recovered from the shock, the depression, and the grief, but my life needs to go on. I still have four kids to raise. I still have my wife and my mother-in-law. I still have my brothers and sisters. I still have my life ahead.

My professional career is settled. I still work with wonderful, caring, talented colleagues. Outside of my full-time job, I still get to do what I love such as blogging, typesetting, and building websites.

My health seems to be fine thus far. I am hoping to stay healthy as I get older. I still enjoy ice skating with the kids. I also challenge myself with ice-skating lessons. The kids seem to lose interest in rollerblading, but I still enjoy skating at my own pace. I don’t need to go to a rink to rollerblade. The skateparks are always free and I can always rollerblade on bike trails.

As far as life in general, things seem to be getting back to normal. I had my first dose of COVID-19 vaccine. I am getting my next one in two weeks. My wife and I are getting along well for the most part. We don’t have much choice since we have four kids to look after.

As far as personal development, I am staying away from controversies. I am focusing on myself and my family. I don’t need to compare or compete with others. I live my life accordingly and do my best for my kids without spoiling them.

At 43, I don’t wish for much. I am just taking off work on my birthday to relax a bit and to hang out with my kids, and maybe some private moments with my wife. That’s enough celebration for me.

As a tradition, I deactivated my Facebook a few days prior to my birthday and will see how long that will last. I shared too much on that platform, and yet my friend list have been shrinking. My Trump-loving friends and relatives had unfriended me. I tried to save those relationships, but those ships had sailed a long time ago. I am a bit sad, but nothing much I can do. Life goes on the way it does. It’s not the end of the world. The older I get, the less I give a damn. I am just trying to take things easy.

O’Farrell’s essays, dealing with near-death experiences, are both terrific and terrifying. From pulling off an escape from a rapist to grappling with her daughter’s severe allergies, O’Farrell delivered gripping stories through her compelling storytelling. Here’s is an excerpt about her missed miscarriage:

You do walk out. The nurse tries to stop you but you don’t listen. You’ve been through this enough times to be fully aware of “what happens next.” As you take the stairs down, away from the scanning department, you feel the notion, the idea of the child leaving you with each step. You feel its fingers loosening, disentangling themselves from yours. You sense its corporeality disintegrating, becoming mist. Gone is the child with blond or dark or auburn hair; gone is the person they might have been, the children they themselves might have had. Gone is that particular coded mix of your and your husband’s genes. Gone is the little brother or sister you pictured for your son. Gone is the knitted rabbit, wrapped and ready in tissue paper, pushed to the back of a cupboard, because you cannot bring yourself to throw it out or give it away. Gone are your plans for and expectations of the next year of your life. Instead of a baby, there will be no baby.

You must adjust to this new picture. You must give it all up. You must somehow get past the due date: you will dread its coming. On that day you will feel the emptiness of your body, your arms, your house. You must intercept the letters from the maternity unit that keep on coming, despite everything. You must pick them up off the mat, almost persuading yourself that you haven’t seen them, you don’t know what they are. You tear them into flitters and drop them into the bin.

You will watch your body backtrack, go into reverse, unpicking its work: the sickness recedes, your breasts shrink back, your abdomen flattens, your appetite disappears.

I thought of my wife who went through this experience twice and I almost cried.