On Numbers and Luck

Tuesday, 27th day. My numerology tells me my lucky number is 27 and my lucky day is Tuesday. Although not big on superstitions, I find myself actually looking forward to Tuesdays and biased on the number 27.
Well, today might just alter my attitude towards these. It's Tuesday, the 27th of January. As usual, I was looking forward to an extraordinary day. After my morning ritual, I went to the dining room to eat. As I was seated at the table, starting my breakfast of rice and daing na bangus with choco drink, my nephew called me in his usual awkward manner. I listened amiably, anticipating maybe a bulb in a room needed replacing, or a friend got sick, or a faucet got broken. But then, as he gradually relayed what was happening, I felt myself bloat, and the two tablespoon breakfast I had just swallowed occupied my whole stomach and overflowed to my esophagus, sending hot and cold needles all over my body. I felt clammy but dry. And my mind was in shambles.
My nephew said that they found C on his bed not breathing, no pulse, and already blackish. After a few seconds of paralysis, my panic sprung me into action and I then called 911. The operator asked me the details and said they would send dispatch. Waiting for the ambulance, I forced myself to calm down and focus. Together with C's friends, I tried calling C's family using the entries in his cell phone. Not knowing anyone in the list, we prioritized the ones that have family terms. We first looked into 'Mama.' Well, there were at least three names there with the prefix 'Mama.' This time, two points concerned me: one, that another mother would mourn for her child, and two, the mother might be sick and this unpleasant news might harm her. When finally, a call went through successfully, a male voice answered. We then told him what happened.
Some time later, 911 arrived, and a man in police uniform ascended the stairs. I waited for the medical-looking personnel, but none came. Instead, more police uniforms came into the room. And I was puzzled and then, my heart once again started its abnormal tug-tug-tug-tug-tug. And I actually asked, "Why you? Where's the rescue?" Then I heard the officer inside the room say, "Wala na ni." This one's a goner. (Yeah, it's not formal, but this is the closest translation I could come up with.) Then, to me, the officer said. "Mga 3-6 hours na ni wala, Ma'am." This one's been gone for 3-6 hours, Ma'am. Though the answer was obvious, I still asked why 911 sent police officers instead of medical personnel, to which they replied it was SOP in this situation.Then later, to my consternation, more and more people came. The Purok Leader, the Barangay Chair, some Kagawad, and, to my horror, some neighbors! Whoa! Talk about circus. Funny thing is, these neighbors just come into the house like it was a normal thing to do.But wait, are there media coming, too? Hope not!
Cut the long story short, the Barangay Chair himself spoke with the family and agreed that the body be moved to a funeral home. I together with one of C's friends escorted the body.
In the afternoon, back at home, I decided to open the store, just to restore some sort of normalcy of the day. But to my dismay, I couldn't find the keys. I looked all over the house, and, thanked Heavens, I saw them on the floor near the door to a seldom used room. I was really upset, so I told myself life is a cycle, if you are down, then there's nowhere else for you to go but up. (Actually I heard it on a movie, though I can't remember which one.) So I decided to buy a lotto ticket, hoping that my day would end 'up.' Well, it didn't. None of my numbers hit. Not a one.
And this is supposed to be my lucky day.
But can I complain? When I think about C's family losing one of the most important part of their lives, my situation really is just a speck.
I believe you have lived your life on earth well. Because you were a good person. Rest in peace, C. And may the ones you left behind also find peace in their hearts one day.