YESTERDAY, when I wrote this, was my 77th birthday. I thought of celebrating it by paying humble tribute to today’s heroes in the war against a fearsome virus. I thought I’d go on record as appreciating the heroic dedication of all medical frontline personnel to the work of saving the lives of victims of the virus.
I have two reasons for doing this, one personal and the other social.
The personal reason stems from the difficult circumstances of my birth into this world. I was born in a make-shift air raid shelter in the mountains of Barili where my parents evacuated when American planes started bombing Japanese forces out of my home town. The “mananabang” (predecessor of today’s midwife) had to brave the bombs, with my father who fetched her, to get to my mother’s side.
I’ve never really thought of the “mananabang” as my hero until now that I see modern medical personnel do the same heroic job of saving lives in the frontlines of our war against a deadly virus. But come to think of it, she saved my mother’s and my newborn life with her heroic trek with my father through rugged mountain terrain and with bombs bursting around just so she could help my mother be delivered of me.
I’m sure my parents were profuse in their thanks for her while I could only wail as a baby and later forget all about her until now that as a 77 year-old senior citizen I am seeing the same heroism in another kind of war, but still a war, on the part of modern medical personnel. Would I be around today if the “mananabang” did not brave the dangers of war? Maybe yes, but as it happened I owe my live-birth to her.
Thus I would like to shout to the world my praise and gratitude for her and the likes of her that help save lives under extremely difficult circumstances such as the shooting war then and the war against a deadly virus now. I cannot even begin to imagine the hardships today’s frontline medical personnel are experiencing just to be able to help. They expose themselves and their families to the virus. And if they are quarantined with their patients, the separation from loved ones cannot be anything but painful.
Yet, for all their pain and anxiety, they are not exactly treated by some with respect and gratitude. And this is my second reason. I feel the need to vent my anger at those who not only do not appreciate but even do violence to frontliners. I also have to wring out of my system both anger and frustration at not being able to do much more than shout at racists who treat these modern heroes as inferior human beings.
I take comfort in knowing that a good deed is its own reward. I just hope we can find our way towards becoming worthy of the heroism of these yet unsung brave souls.