As everyone hurriedly took their orders
and grab their lunches in that famous fast-food restaurant with an over-sized smiling
honeybee as their logo, one man was oblivious and unnoticeable of them all.
He sat there in a corner, singled-out from
the rest of the dining tables, carrying the most precious things he had left: his
fragile, ailing daughter wrapped in his caring arms and a bag that contained
everything her daughter needed (or what he can afford of at least) for her
first consultation in Philippine General Hospital.
His daughter has been suffering from a rare
disease he could not even pronounce. She was a lovely angel since she was born,
bringing light to their otherwise gloomy life in the farmlands. She was their
sunshine, their love, their princess. Until that fateful day when her symptoms
started to appear. It started with a high fever, then she stopped eating and
she became more and more weak each passing day. On her second year of life she
was already bed-ridden: unable to run and play like she used to, unable to laugh
like she used to, unable to even smile like she always used to do. Their world
was shattered into pieces, they have to do something, anything at all to get
her back to what she was before.
They tried visiting the albularyo in the
nearby barrios. They had to carry her to the next village where the albularyo resides, hoping a miracle
would happen. But it was all nothing but a disappointing failure. Then they
went to the nearest health center which was an hour of jeepney-ride away.
Still, no definite treatment was given. Her condition was something that they
cannot handle, he was told. They should visit a physician the soonest, or at
least go to the metro, to PGH, or risk losing their dear angel if they don’t. It
was a race against time, and they have to decide fast.
It was the heaviest decision they have to
make. They have no money, nothing at all. What could a farmer who sell rice
grains for mere P50 per sack a day could afford? And the trip to the metro
would cost them all the fortune they have long and painstakingly earned and
saved for years. But is there even another option than that? After all, she’s
our daughter, our angel, his dear wife told him. We will do everything we can.
And so they exhausted all means they could
get. They knocked on their neighbours’ doors, they went to barangay officials,
to anyone they could ask help from. Some were generous enough to give them a
few cash while some turned their faces away, not even listening to their pleas.
In the end, what they were able to gather was only enough for a single trip for
a single person to Manila. And they were racing against time.
With her eyes full of tears, his dear wife
sent them off that one sunny day. It’s all we got, she told him, and I will
pray and wait for you two to come back. And off he went to Manila, carrying his
fragile angel in his loving arms, listening to her wails while calling her
mother again and again, and not even knowing how and when they could come back
and be together again…
“Eto
na po order niyo sir” (Here’s your order, sir) the waiter placed the
steaming bowl of chicken soup on his table. He gestured a “thank you” but the
waiter was already hurrying away to serve other costumers in that restaurant.
It was lunch time and his daughter was getting hungry. This was all he could
afford to buy, he have to save the rest for any medicines that her daughter’s
doctor might ask him to buy. He won’t even need to eat at all… He is a strong,
well-abled man after all, his fragile daughter needed it most. At least if he
could get his daughter to eat and that would be enough for him to get by the
day…
He went to his bag and took an old face
towel from it, placed it in his daughter’s chest and slowly started to wake her
up. She opened her eyes slowly and perhaps it took some time for her to realize
that they were still far away from home. There were too many people around, the
place was too noisy, too different from their house in the farms. She was
already looking around… looking for her mother… Noticing this, he whispered in
her ears, and told her that mama was away, buying some toys for her. Again, he
lied to her. It was all that he could muster to appease her crying and longing.
Here, eat something, he told his daughter, your mother prepared this for you.
He blew on the hot chicken soup and slowly brought the spoon to her mouth. She
tasted some, and then she started it again…
“Mama…” she said it like a whisper at
first, then an audible mumble… “mama…” and then she started crying again…
He put the spoon back to the bowl of
chicken soup and started shushing his crying daughter. Shhh, don’t worry mama
will come, he lied again, mama will surely come. He could do nothing else but
that. And he found his eyes starting to well up with tears as well.
In that corner of a room in a noisy
fast-food restaurant.
A man silently wept as his daughter kept calling for her mother
from afar.
No one knew about them.
Nobody cared.
No one would even know their story.
Until YOU read this.
And I hope their story would remain in your hearts as well.
###
Author’s note:
I was there witnessing all that
happened. And that image of seeing them weep in front of me will forever be
engraved in my mind. This is nothing but just one of the many stories our
patients in PGH have. They deserved to be heard. They deserved to be
acknowledged.
Comments
By the way, nice article akhoy. :D