CHAPTER 30:TEMPORARY FIXES
668 Words
Desperation has a way of forcing clarity into a chaotic mind. Standing in the sterile, crowded hallway of ITRMC, I refused to let fear paralyze me. Fear was an inefficient emotion; it couldn’t pay bills, and it certainly couldn't fix my father's failing heart.
Remembering how government hospitals operated, I didn't let the staggering numbers on the initial billing statement break my composure. I turned on my heels and walked straight toward the hospital's administrative wing, looking for the one place that offered a lifeline to families like ours: the Malasakit Center.
The room was buzzing with people—mothers holding crying infants, elderly citizens clutching folders of medical abstracts, and exhausted relatives hoping for a miracle from social services.
I lined up, keeping my posture straight despite the exhaustion deep in my bones. When my turn came, I faced the social worker behind the glass window and presented my father's admission slip and clinical abstract.
"Magandang hapon po," I spoke, keeping my voice calm and polite. "Ito po ang admission requirements ng papa ko. Severe hypertension po at suspected heart complication. Wala po kaming sapat na pondo ngayon para sa mga agarang laboratory tests."
The social worker reviewed the documents, her tired eyes softening slightly as she looked at my university ID still hanging around my neck. "Sige, hija. Pwede nating ipasok 'to sa Malasakit. I-cover natin 'yung mga initial laboratories, ECG, at 'yung mga gamot na available sa pharmacy ng ospital para hindi niyo na kailangang bayaran ngayon gamit ang cash."
A heavy knot in my chest loosened, just enough for me to breathe. "Salamat po. Maraming salamat."
"Pero paalala lang, hija," she added gently, stamping the clearance forms. "Sagot ng gobyerno ang paunang lunas at pagsusuri habang nandito siya. Pero kapag madischarge na ang pasyente, doon kayo magkakaroon ng malaking balanse, lalo na kung may mga special procedures na gagawin ang cardiologist niya. Maghanda pa rin kayo para sa araw na 'yon."
"Naiintindihan ko po," I replied, nodding tightly.
Before I would have borrowed from Mark with interest and conditions.Now,at least it's government aid with no strings attached.
I walked back to the medical ward with the approved clearance forms in my hand. For now, the structural collapse had been averted. The immediate financial leak was patched up by the social services, buying us precious time. Papa Renato was finally moved from the chaotic emergency room to a stable hospital bed, an IV drip hooked to his arm and a heart monitor rhythmically beeping beside him.
By nightfall, my mother was asleep on the narrow wooden bench beside his bed. I stood by the window, watching the distant lights of San Fernando under the dark sky.
We had survived today. But as an engineering student, I knew that a temporary patch on a cracked foundation wouldn't hold forever. The real storm would hit the moment the doctors signed the discharge papers. The professional fees, the post-hospital medications, and the reality that my father could no longer work heavy hours at the shop—it was an equation that always ended in a deficit.
I pulled out my phone, staring at Reuben’s name on my contact list. He had sent me three text messages over the last few hours, asking if I was okay because I hadn't shown up for our usual library review.
My thumb hovered over the screen. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to hear his calm, reassuring voice. But as I looked at my sleeping family, pride and a fierce sense of protective duty held me back. Reuben was preparing for his CPA Mock Boards—the culmination of all his hard work. He had his own future to calculate.
I couldn't let my family’s crumbling structures drag him down. Not yet.
My phone buzzed for the fourth time at the window sill.
"Malia,it's been 24 hours.Are you okay?Please reply when you can."
I didn't answer.
- Writer
