Angelita H. Cuevas
I value honesty as much I value myself and my family. Sometimes, I can't avoid saying lies but they are the kinds that we call as white lie. I don't know why they are called white where in fact they are still lies so by nature they are black.
I was in my senior year in college. I was so excited thinking that in a few months I would graduate and my parents would see some fruit from their hard work. Until something happened that changed my life and almost shattered my dreams.
One evening in September 2001, I was surprised that my father didn’t show up in the intersection where I used to get off from the bus or jeepney every night. He used to fetch me in that area since our house is still meters away from the main road and it was dark. I was afraid but I just walked home alone. When I arrived home my father was there and he said that he had stomach trouble and didn’t even go to work. So, we just gave him some a pain killer. The next day, he felt better. It was the usual day for everyone. I prepared for school and I even worked for 3 hours in Jollibee, a fast food restaurant, where I worked as part time service crew. I didn’t feel well so I didn’t finish my class and went home early. On my way home, I felt something I couldn’t explain. My heartbeat went fast, I wanted to run but my legs felt heavy. I was so worried and I didn’t know why. Finally I arrived home only to find out that no one was there. So, I asked from our neighbor, and I found out that they rushed my father to the hospital. I immediately went to Zamboanga Doctors Hospital where my father was admitted. My father had series of examinations and there were no findings. The doctors said that he’s alright but I saw that my father was really in pain. We consulted the company doctor and she advised that my father should undergo CT scan.
When it was done, my father complained and said, “ What was that machine? It made me sick. I don’t want to do that examination again.”
He asked about my study and work so I told him that everything was okay. Moments later the doctor called us, my two older brothers, Bert, June and me. My mother stayed with my father. We followed the doctor into a small room. There the doctor got a small piece of paper and a pencil. He started illustrating the liver, pancreas, vile, stomach and the lungs. He was explaining things in medical terms. My two brothers were just silent, trying to understand his illustration.
I was impatient and asked the doctor directly, “ Doc, I know you have something to tell us, please just explain it simply.”
“Alright, how old was your father when he started smoking?” he enquired.
“Eleven years old.” Bert answered.
“How often does he drink alcohol?” the doctor asked again.
“Sometimes, when he needs to go to sleep since he sometimes works at night and he has a hard time sleeping during the day so he takes alcohol.” I answered.
“Well based on the result, he has a liver and pancreatic cancer and his vile is no longer functioning…” he continued explaining and ended by saying, “I’m sorry, but the cancer is on it’s terminal stage and it complicates with other organs and he only have a maximum of one month to live.”
I was totally shocked, my father was in bed talking to my mother. I just couldn’t believe the doctor.
“ Is there anything we could do to save him?” asked June.
“ We don’t have the facilities here in Zamboanga for the operation, we only have one in Manila and if you’re going to take the risk I would just say that the chance is 50/50.” The doctor replied.
They continued the discussion for a few minutes but nothing was registered on my mind except for the fact that my father is dying and he only got a month to live. When the doctor and my brothers were done talking we went out and not a word was said. My mother stood when she saw us.
“What did the doctor say?” “How was the result?” Your father says he’s feeling better now so perhaps we can go home.”
Nobody answered. I couldn’t look straight to her and when I looked at my two brothers they were just silent and both were staring down.
I didn’t want her to know the situation so I immediately replied, “Oh the doctor just gave additional prescription and there’s nothing to worry, father will be home soon.”
For me that was good lie. I was looking at the heavy traffic outside when I said it and I felt a lump in my throat that if I would speak another word I wouldn’t be able to hold my tears. I don’t want to look at my father’s face. He is still alive yet I know that he would die soon. It was the hardest thing to accept. I lied to my mother because I don’t want to hurt her.
Two days later, when mother and I were sitting at my father’s side he opened his eyes, looked straight into my mother’s face and grinned. His breathing became deeper and deeper so I ran and called the doctors. They rushed in and tried to do the CPR. I was totally shocked with what I witnessed. My father died with me standing by his side when doctors were trying to get something from him, but failed.
That was a traumatic experience for me, and even though I believe in this famous line, “ Remember only the past if its remembrance gives you pleasure,” I couldn’t help reminiscing the past for it was the time when I learned that we don’t have the hold for our future and that anything can happen when we least expect them.
I value honesty as much I value myself and my family. Sometimes, I can't avoid saying lies but they are the kinds that we call as white lie. I don't know why they are called white where in fact they are still lies so by nature they are black.
I was in my senior year in college. I was so excited thinking that in a few months I would graduate and my parents would see some fruit from their hard work. Until something happened that changed my life and almost shattered my dreams.
One evening in September 2001, I was surprised that my father didn’t show up in the intersection where I used to get off from the bus or jeepney every night. He used to fetch me in that area since our house is still meters away from the main road and it was dark. I was afraid but I just walked home alone. When I arrived home my father was there and he said that he had stomach trouble and didn’t even go to work. So, we just gave him some a pain killer. The next day, he felt better. It was the usual day for everyone. I prepared for school and I even worked for 3 hours in Jollibee, a fast food restaurant, where I worked as part time service crew. I didn’t feel well so I didn’t finish my class and went home early. On my way home, I felt something I couldn’t explain. My heartbeat went fast, I wanted to run but my legs felt heavy. I was so worried and I didn’t know why. Finally I arrived home only to find out that no one was there. So, I asked from our neighbor, and I found out that they rushed my father to the hospital. I immediately went to Zamboanga Doctors Hospital where my father was admitted. My father had series of examinations and there were no findings. The doctors said that he’s alright but I saw that my father was really in pain. We consulted the company doctor and she advised that my father should undergo CT scan.
When it was done, my father complained and said, “ What was that machine? It made me sick. I don’t want to do that examination again.”
He asked about my study and work so I told him that everything was okay. Moments later the doctor called us, my two older brothers, Bert, June and me. My mother stayed with my father. We followed the doctor into a small room. There the doctor got a small piece of paper and a pencil. He started illustrating the liver, pancreas, vile, stomach and the lungs. He was explaining things in medical terms. My two brothers were just silent, trying to understand his illustration.
I was impatient and asked the doctor directly, “ Doc, I know you have something to tell us, please just explain it simply.”
“Alright, how old was your father when he started smoking?” he enquired.
“Eleven years old.” Bert answered.
“How often does he drink alcohol?” the doctor asked again.
“Sometimes, when he needs to go to sleep since he sometimes works at night and he has a hard time sleeping during the day so he takes alcohol.” I answered.
“Well based on the result, he has a liver and pancreatic cancer and his vile is no longer functioning…” he continued explaining and ended by saying, “I’m sorry, but the cancer is on it’s terminal stage and it complicates with other organs and he only have a maximum of one month to live.”
I was totally shocked, my father was in bed talking to my mother. I just couldn’t believe the doctor.
“ Is there anything we could do to save him?” asked June.
“ We don’t have the facilities here in Zamboanga for the operation, we only have one in Manila and if you’re going to take the risk I would just say that the chance is 50/50.” The doctor replied.
They continued the discussion for a few minutes but nothing was registered on my mind except for the fact that my father is dying and he only got a month to live. When the doctor and my brothers were done talking we went out and not a word was said. My mother stood when she saw us.
“What did the doctor say?” “How was the result?” Your father says he’s feeling better now so perhaps we can go home.”
Nobody answered. I couldn’t look straight to her and when I looked at my two brothers they were just silent and both were staring down.
I didn’t want her to know the situation so I immediately replied, “Oh the doctor just gave additional prescription and there’s nothing to worry, father will be home soon.”
For me that was good lie. I was looking at the heavy traffic outside when I said it and I felt a lump in my throat that if I would speak another word I wouldn’t be able to hold my tears. I don’t want to look at my father’s face. He is still alive yet I know that he would die soon. It was the hardest thing to accept. I lied to my mother because I don’t want to hurt her.
Two days later, when mother and I were sitting at my father’s side he opened his eyes, looked straight into my mother’s face and grinned. His breathing became deeper and deeper so I ran and called the doctors. They rushed in and tried to do the CPR. I was totally shocked with what I witnessed. My father died with me standing by his side when doctors were trying to get something from him, but failed.
That was a traumatic experience for me, and even though I believe in this famous line, “ Remember only the past if its remembrance gives you pleasure,” I couldn’t help reminiscing the past for it was the time when I learned that we don’t have the hold for our future and that anything can happen when we least expect them.
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