Health is the greatest wealth

Photo by Julia Zyablova on Unsplash

The saying “Health is Wealth” hits differently in the recent years. The other day, my brother and I were talking about that Tiktok video that got viral in 2020 showing a clip of Bee Gees’ “Staying Alive”, which became some sort of anthem during the pandemic. It was supposed to be a meme, or a joke, but kuya and I agreed it was much more that.  All jokes aside, we were really trying to stay alive then, especially when we lost two uncles days apart because of COVID, and we had quite a scare when some of us here got it during the most potent of the variants: Alpha and Delta.

While COVID is no longer as deadly as it was before, it left an indelible lesson in all of us: Health is everything. Diseases don't discriminate. There’s no rich or poor as it leveled the playing field. 

Last February, my mom had to be once again rushed to the ER due to difficulty in breathing. Thank God, she tested negative for COVID, but when she was admitted, she was in bad shape. The many times that I was watching her at the hospital, I thought we’d lose her. Turns out it was pneumonia, which is a very common illness for the elderly. They had to give her strong antibiotics through IV and do several tests on her. I’m glad that after weeks of medication, she’s okay now.

I remember that one thing I read somewhere, that “middle class is just one hospitalization away from poverty”, and to be candid about it, my older brother and I, being the breadwinners of the family, felt this very much. Kuya had to use up his savings, while I maxed out one of my credit cards only after a few days that mom was in the hospital. I even have to take a bank loan just to keep my finances on check.

Make no mistake, I’m not complaining; it’s just that one will realize that illnesses can siphon one’s savings so easily with the exorbitant medical cost in this country. PhilHealth can only cover a little most of the time. No wonder, I’ve heard of well-off friends who had to seek help from other people for medical expenses incurred from treatment of terminal illnesses. 

It’s hard enough that my mother, being almost 84, had no healthcare insurance or HMO to speak of. So the mere sound of my mom coughing at night can make me anxious and lose sleep. It doesn’t help that she’s all kinds of stubborn and would continue doing things that the doctors had advised her against.

My brothers and I would talk about how health was the least of our worries when we were much younger. We never cared about our blood pressure, cholesterol levels,  blood sugar levels or whatnot. But now that we’re older, this is the everyday sh*t we all have to concern ourselves with whether we like it or not.

My younger brother, who was once fit and an all-around athlete in his younger years, is now severely overweight and riddled with a lot of health issues. What’s concerning is that he doesn’t have an HMO so most of his issues are often ignored. All I can do is remind him to take care of himself, if not for him, at least for the sake of my young nephews. I just don’t know if my reminders penetrate him.

At least Kuya and I, since we are employed by the same company, have a decent HMO package of PhP200,000 per illness annually. But trust me, that coverage isn’t enough if you have something that requires expensive procedures and long periods of confinement. I remember during my exploratory laparotomy in 2018, I exceeded my MBL (maximum benefit limit) because I had an unexpected heart complication (arrhythmia) after my surgery. I had to sign a waiver just for me to be discharged against doctor’s orders, because I don’t want to incur any out of pocket.

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My HMO benefit is something I consider one of my life’s many blessings. Without it, I imagine I would be very hesitant to have my symptoms checked. I probably would just consult relatives that are in the medical profession knowing they will not charge me. 

After my epic food poisoning early last month, I’ve had recurring episodes of constipation, diarrhea and bloating—it’s either one or the other. There’s also this dull ache on my right side just below my rib cage that’s getting to be quite a bother especially if I lie on my side.  

I had myself checked by a gastroenterologist and she suggested I get a colonoscopy. She admits that it’s not something that’s usually done for someone my age but a problematic bowel can be a symptom of a more sinister disease. Since it is covered by my HMO anyway, I thought I should get one just for my peace of mind.

Two days prior to my scheduled colonoscopy last Saturday, I was given by the doctor a diet of no beef, pork, and vegetables. By 5PM the day before, I dissolved 10 sachets of Polyethelene Glycol (powder laxative) in 1.5 liters of water and then took two Bisacodyl (Dulcolax) tablets two hours after to clear my bowels. No more intake allowed (not even water) by 12AM of Saturday in preparation for my colonoscopy at 9AM.

Even the pharmacist was surprised I had to dissolve 10 sachets!

It’s good that even if I anticipated that the colonoscopy prep will keep me up all night because of my many trips to the toilet, it didn’t happen that way. There’s no gut-twitching abdominal pain (hilab) and I was able to empty about three times between 8pm to 4 am without any hassle.

The gastroenterologist also assured me that while colonoscopy is an invasive procedure, I will be under moderate anesthesia so there should be no pain or discomfort. 

When I got to the operating room, I was asked to change in hospital gown and then was given a sedative through IV. I was also hooked to an oxygen tank, a sphygmomanometer and oximeter through a cardiac telemetry machine to monitor my vitals while under sedation after I told them of my predisposition to arrhythmia. The gastroenterologist and the anesthesiologist did their best to ease my fears (although I wasn’t really that nervous) and made me relax by having small talks until the anesthesia kicked and I started feeling woozy. 

I told them I’ll just close my eyes.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself still lying on the operating table. I looked around and was waiting for them to start but there’s no one there. I’m still strapped to the beeping telemetry machine and I can see that my vitals are okay although I noticed that the monitor that is connected to the endoscope is already turned off.

I can hear my stomach making gurgling fart noises that I thought to myself why they haven’t started yet. It would be embarrassing if I pass gas (or poop!) while they’re doing the colonoscopy. Que horror.

The nurse then came in and asked me if I’m okay and I gave her a reassuring thumbs up after which she went out and left me again. All the while I was wondering what’s keeping them and slightly getting impatient because my nephew Gavin was outside waiting for me.

The next time the nurse got back she said: “Ma’am idi-discharge ko na po kayo.” I looked at the clock and realized it’s already almost 11AM!

To cut the long story short, tapos na pala.

Except for the rumbling stomach and gas, I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t feel it when they position me on my side, nor did I feel the long, flexible tube inserted into my rectum. I didn’t even feel groggy or dizzy after. No pain in the bumhole too.

My gastroenterologist, Dra. Mercado, interpreted the results immediately after. I do have an outpouching in the ascending colon (diverticula) which is asymptomatic, but the best news so far is that there are no polyps or masses that usually lead to cancer. I asked the doctor if the dull pain I’m having on my side could be because of the diverticula, but she said it shouldn’t hurt. So we have yet to do more tests (an ultrasound perhaps?) to check my liver, gallbladder, pancreas, appendix and kidneys.

Bottomline, if I don’t have a health plan paid for by my company, I don’t think I have the liberty to go through these procedures considering the costs of these. As from what I read, colonoscopy alone can cost around PhP12,000-18,000, not including the professional fees for the gastroenterologist and anesthesiologist.

Imagine the plight of the less fortunate, of those who can’t afford even to have themselves get checked by a doctor. Or people like my younger brother who had no medical insurance. I have known of people who needed to go through dialysis but chose not to and died shortly thereafter. I feel for them. 

These days, I’m happier seeing my family and loved-ones in good health, than having lots of money to buy things. Now that I know how fast money could go because of high cost of medical care.

It's not the money, honey.

Photo by Ryan Franco on Unsplash

Why was my last relationship with B waned before it even took off?

Because Filipino culture is one of the most toxic there is. I don’t know why it’s been like that; was it because we were under the Spaniards for hundreds of years that they have rubbed off some of their captious characteristics on us? Or are Filipinos just backwards when it comes to views?

When some people see a Filipina with a foreigner boyfriend or husband, many automatically assume that the relationship was never for love, but more for convenience. We always hear people joke: “Isang kababayan na naman natin ang naka-ahon sa kahirapan” which for me, while may ring true to some, is not always the case.

There is no denying that many Filipinas marry foreigners for money. That some of them see foreigners as their ticket to get out of poverty. Then again, to automatically think that it’s the ONLY reason why Filipinas go out with foreigners is just unfair. Like, it can never be about mutual attraction, compatibility or intellectual stimulation?

Many think that such interracial relationships benefit the Filipinas more than the foreigner. But what if the Filipina was doing fine even before the foreigner came along? What if she already has a decent-paying job and her own money long before he met the guy? Isn’t it that there is even that possibility that the Pinay earns more than the guy? That there is no need for her to latch onto some AFAM to survive?

Especially in my case, it’s no secret to some people that I came from really humble beginnings. That I grew up struggling and had to work my way to be able to support myself and my family. So, sure, there were some people who gave slighting comments as soon as they learned that I was seeing a foreigner, with a relative even joking: “Ayos `yan, dollars!”. 

Making it worse is the fact that I’m a middle-aged woman past my prime, so some would even add that I must jump at the chance before “the bus leaves” and I find myself in lonely spinsterhood—like I wasn’t there yet (minus the “lonely”).

Some might say that I should ignore the comments and just enjoy it. Anyway, relationships, interracial or not, are tough as they are. But I wish it was that easy. The paranoia is real; I am constantly worried that he will think of it that way too, especially when he sometimes offer financial help when needed, or gift me material things whenever he can. I usually decline, which frustrates him at times, but I just don’t want to be seen (by him or by other people) as taking advantage especially that he earns more than I do.

In all fairness to B, there’s definitely a mutual attraction and I especially enjoy intellectually-stimulating conversations where he learns from me and I learn from him.  I don’t think there was ever a time he thought of himself as a “White savior”. We didn’t meet online (so one can’t say I’m on the lookout for AFAMs) and I never once asked him for money. I even steer clear of sharing problems with him because I don’t want him to think that it was a disguised cry for help. Heck, never did I feign helplessness. 

He’s well aware that this bothers me. But he understands this because he knows first-hand how some Filipinas are viewed by other nationality, especially Westerners like him. B even mentioned one time a colleague joked that he might end up a “passport bro”. He didn’t know what it meant that he had to look it up. 

It’s harder for interracial relationships to work because there will always be cultural stressors that can lead to conflict. It’s generally difficult that even if one tries to not mind people’s opinions about the relationship, it does ruin what could have been a genuinely good thing. The thought will always hover in the heads of other people and that it’s going to be a challenge to simply ignore them. What’s sadder is you can’t help having that fear that your partner, or people close to him, will think that you’re also after something else.

While I’ve said that I stop caring about what people think of me, I feel that I’m getting old having to constantly prove other people wrong. 

About the Goodnight Girl...

 This post was taken from my old blog originally posted on March 18, 2009.

I was secretly smiling to myself inside our company shuttle on my way home last night.

If I have to make a soundtrack of my life (which, by the way, would take several volumes if you know me), the song Goodnight Girl by Wet, Wet, Wet would have to be included, most definitely.

Last night, while it was being played on the radio, I was instantaneously zapped back in time. R, a fellow World Youth Day `95 delegate from our parish, gave me the lyrics of this song. Until now, I haven’t had the slightest idea why that of all the songs during the time (Do I make him doze off? Do I look like a manananggal who only comes out at night? Or just by merely thinking of me would make him sleep soundly at night? Hehehe. Feeling.)

Now this guy could drive me bonkers sometimes. While he’s really nice and had expressed his good intentions, his crazy antics to woo me could go down the books. I remember one time he was having a haircut and he saw me passed by. He stood up from the barber’s chair (his hair uneven because it’s unfinished) and asked me if he could walk me home. Even if I told him I’m okay and he could just go back to finish his haircut, he insisted. He didn’t care about the weird stares he’d been getting from people (after all, he really looked stupid with his incomplete trim) as long as he could just be with me for a few minutes. While I find that sweet, I also find that pretty disturbing.

About the same time, I have this guy classmate at Lyceum named Brian who I heard humming this song this one time we sat next to each other in class. From there, we engaged in a small talk and I told him about how Goodnight Girl reminded me of this other guy. 

Since then he would tease me by singing the chorus of the song every time he sees me. As in – every time. When he sees me walking at the quadrangle, or in the corridor, inside the classroom…I mean everywhere – I’d suddenly hear him burst into song.

“Caught up in your wishing well, your hopes inside it. Take your love and promises and make them last…”

Since Brian’s a volleyball varsity player, people who hear him singing at the quadrangle every time I pass by (sometimes even kneeling as if he’s serenading me) thought it was just the cutest gesture. Everyone thought that Brian had a thing for me (I really don’t know, he’s probably just teasing), but he didn’t care. He’d always sing me the song. I enjoyed “some popularity” when I was in College for the oddest reasons and this was one of it. After all, Brian was a “crush-ng-bayan” too, like all regular jocks.

After graduation, I haven’t heard from Brian anymore, which wasn’t surprising because we don’t belong in the same major and we only became classmates on our minor subjects. However, many years after, while I was at the University Mall (near La Salle - Taft) buying something after a quick snack at nearby McDonald’s, I heard a familiar voice – a guy singing the chorus of the song Goodnight Girl! I frantically looked everywhere to find where the voice was coming from and my eyes beamed upon seeing Brian after so many years since College! What’s so nice about it is that he still remembers “our” song. Yes. It became our “unofficial” song. What started out as some joke because of some guy, became a lasting memory for another. 

While I really don’t rave about the song, it was still memorable for me. Actually, my Mom always loved the story behind it. She liked hearing me tell it over and over again. Maybe because she thought it was sweet that someone would forever be reminded of me because of one song. I’m sure that whenever Brian hears that, he would think of no one else but me.