I'VE been going around gathering stories of hope and in the process, I see life from a different light, the light that shines out of those who have stared at Death in the face, survived, and live on full of hope and happiness.
I'm not even halfway yet in this book project I have embarked on with Dr. Mae Concepcion Dolendo, but I already share the light, that would prompt the doc and I to say, "And you think you got problems, huh? Wala 'yan sa lolo ko!"
Doc Mae, as she is known to many, is the force behind the House of Hope, the halfway home for children with cancer and their guardians at the Southern Philippines Medical Center, and the pediatric oncology unit of the hospital that especially caters to the young and very poor, who otherwise would not have been able to afford cancer treatment.
One of the interviews I have so far done was with three teenaged students who fought cancer when they were 5, 7, and 13 years old.
Walking to our meeting place, the House of Hope at the rear portion of the SPMC compound, I was filled with trepidation, my heart not quite ready to hear their stories. After all, how can you even bear to hear the stories of how to survive cancer from children whose parents barely had anything to pay for their meals outside the ones they have left for the other children at home.
Thus, as we sat down in the new House of Hope building that now has a classroom for the continued education of cancer patients, I introduced myself, told them the reason why I want to talk to them, and added, "I will be asking about your experiences as a cancer patient, thus, there may be times when you will want to cry, and I just might cry with you, but let's just go on. It's all right to stop if you can't continue talking and just want to cry."
Conscious that it was already 7 p.m., I made sure that I kept my interview short as I don't want to go home late at night. We managed to talk about a lot of things in 45 minutes, but much more than that... we did not shed a single tear.
Rather, we were laughing, guffawing even, as the children looked back and cringed at how they handled the disease. This included biting the nurses, tearing the hair of a doctor, and running all around the general ward while the doctors, the nurses, the parents, and the security guard did their utmost best to entrap the child and bring her back to her bed for the dreaded treatment.
After all, they were children made to suffer the never-ending piercings for chemotherapy, and worst, the bone marrow aspiration where a needle is inserted into the pelvic bone to get bone marrow to see if there are still leukemia cells and the lumbar puncture that requires yet another needle inserted into the spinal canal to deliver chemotherapy to prevent leukemia cells from invading the brain.
The two girls who had leukemia dreaded these two procedures most and were not above trying to fight their way out. They never succeeded of course. But that's also one of the things they had to learn as young kids fighting cancer but trying to escape the painful treatment.
"It wasn't as I expected," I told Doc Mae later. "We were laughing all throughout. Those children are crazy."
To which Doc Mae replied, "That is why we are doing all of these for them, so that they will have a full life to live."
It has been more than a decade now since SPMC attended to child cancer. It is more than a decade of struggle, of losses, of victories, but most of all of new leases in life and a lot of stories full of hope and happiness that somehow overshadow the grief and losses.
"Do you have any other memorable moments that you want to share?" I asked the children as we were about to end the interview. "There are many," the three of them said.
"But we'd rather not," said Jovhen, the 17-year-old girl who was first admitted as a seven-year-old cancer patient. "Why is that?" I asked.
"Those are the memories of the children who did not make it. Those whom I have already befriended and when I returned after only a week or two already passed away," she added.
That was the only time that a trace of gloom crossed their faces, and then they quickly hid this with their smiles.
"Dili lang problemahon ang problema (We don't mope over problems)," said one of them as they returned to their rambunctious selves.
They were given a new lease in life and are determined to live this with joy.
saestremera@yahoo.com
