The Hazards of this Line of Work ( as distilled by three days)
The video for the Takahashi couple was supposed to be a normal silver wedding anniversary video. It was basically just a documentation video of the party and program they had to celebrate 25 years of marriage. I have done several of these types of videos in the past months and already had an almost mechanical instinct when it came to editing them.
1 a.m. Takahashi editing session. Everything was coming along normally. My boss never changes the scripting for his events so I already knew what to expect. Then came the AVP that was presented during the program itself. Since I was not the one that edited the AVP, I had no idea what I was going to see. Again, the the AVP was nothing out of the ordinary. Doc put in his usual sequence of the father-in-law walking into the bedroom while the couple was having their honeymoon (simulated of course).
Then came a picture of Mrs. Takahashi with sunken cheeks, balding head, and dark rings around her eyes. The caption on the screen read "First month of chemo". And there she was, seated on a lazy boy chair with the grimly familiar site of IV lines dangling from her left arm. I was transfixed.
Towards the end of the AVP, a segment is shown wherein Mrs. Takahashi gives a tribute to her husband. "Thank you so much, dear. Thank you for being with me every step of the way. You were always there in every doctor's appointment, in every chemo session. I would not have made it without you."
Stop playback. For the longest time, I stared down at my desk.
"Thank you for being with me every step of the way...You were always there in every doctor's appointment, in every chemo session." I couldn't move. Something so distant yet so familiar was welling up in me. I was feeling so angry that these words could not apply to my own father. And the past two years of seemingly being able to cope folded in the middle and brought me smack into 2002.
Be it insane professionalism or just plain curiosity, I decided to continue working. My pace had gone slower and it was taking me longer to make editing decisions. Nevertheless, I trudged on, finally making it to the part where the couple thanked the guests for sharing in their happy moment.
Mrs. Takahashi finally took the mic. She started with the usual. "Thank you so much to all of you...I thank God, for all the blessings He has bestowed these past 25 years...When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer..Crisis...I was never alone...Thank you for being with me every step of the way. You were always there in every doctor's appointment, in every chemo session. I would not have made it without you.."
And she looked straight at me from the other side of the screen. And I knew she was talking to me. And here I was, piecing together the story that I wanted so much to be true for my family and I.
Stop playback. For the longest time, I stared down at my desk.
I then started to cry uncontrollably.
6 p.m. of the next day. The video was finally completed. I handed it over to the maid at Doc's house since Doc wasn't home. I lit a cigarette and started walking towards the Gilmore MRT station.
The video for the Takahashi couple was supposed to be a normal silver wedding anniversary video. It was basically just a documentation video of the party and program they had to celebrate 25 years of marriage. I have done several of these types of videos in the past months and already had an almost mechanical instinct when it came to editing them.
1 a.m. Takahashi editing session. Everything was coming along normally. My boss never changes the scripting for his events so I already knew what to expect. Then came the AVP that was presented during the program itself. Since I was not the one that edited the AVP, I had no idea what I was going to see. Again, the the AVP was nothing out of the ordinary. Doc put in his usual sequence of the father-in-law walking into the bedroom while the couple was having their honeymoon (simulated of course).
Then came a picture of Mrs. Takahashi with sunken cheeks, balding head, and dark rings around her eyes. The caption on the screen read "First month of chemo". And there she was, seated on a lazy boy chair with the grimly familiar site of IV lines dangling from her left arm. I was transfixed.
Towards the end of the AVP, a segment is shown wherein Mrs. Takahashi gives a tribute to her husband. "Thank you so much, dear. Thank you for being with me every step of the way. You were always there in every doctor's appointment, in every chemo session. I would not have made it without you."
Stop playback. For the longest time, I stared down at my desk.
"Thank you for being with me every step of the way...You were always there in every doctor's appointment, in every chemo session." I couldn't move. Something so distant yet so familiar was welling up in me. I was feeling so angry that these words could not apply to my own father. And the past two years of seemingly being able to cope folded in the middle and brought me smack into 2002.
Be it insane professionalism or just plain curiosity, I decided to continue working. My pace had gone slower and it was taking me longer to make editing decisions. Nevertheless, I trudged on, finally making it to the part where the couple thanked the guests for sharing in their happy moment.
Mrs. Takahashi finally took the mic. She started with the usual. "Thank you so much to all of you...I thank God, for all the blessings He has bestowed these past 25 years...When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer..Crisis...I was never alone...Thank you for being with me every step of the way. You were always there in every doctor's appointment, in every chemo session. I would not have made it without you.."
And she looked straight at me from the other side of the screen. And I knew she was talking to me. And here I was, piecing together the story that I wanted so much to be true for my family and I.
Stop playback. For the longest time, I stared down at my desk.
I then started to cry uncontrollably.
6 p.m. of the next day. The video was finally completed. I handed it over to the maid at Doc's house since Doc wasn't home. I lit a cigarette and started walking towards the Gilmore MRT station.
