Zero Hour

12:45 pm.

Hello J. Alam mo number ng emergency room ng Manila Doctors? Na-stroke ang papa mo... mukhang malala ang tama eh. Kailangan kong malaman ang number ng doctor niya doon.

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It was a Tuesday. For some fated reasons, I decided not to go to work in the morning and instead, requested if I could report during the afternoon shift. I remembered that very moment, the slow, guided steps descending on the stairs, the maid informing me of the emergency, my cold and composed reaction to what my aunt told me. My reply to her frantic words were "susubukan ko po kung ano ang magagawa ko Tita Heart," nevertheless I acted as fast as I can to assist her in my dad's immediate transfer from a government clinic to that hospital.

But before I fully cooperated with her. I called my mom's most trusted sister, who is a doctor. I told her of my dad's situation. Being the only one in the family who fully understands my bitterness towards him, I asked her straight if I will help or not. I remembered her words very well that up to this very moment, I could still hear the echoes of our conversation, "tatay mo pa rin siya kahit paano. ikaw rin, lahat yan pagsisisihan mo balang araw..." Immediately after I hanged up the phone, I told my sister the grave news and prepare. Fortunately, she's just about to go to class that afternoon. My half brother, who lives in our other house was just bumming around so it was easy to order him to go with us. After I informed my mom (still in a very cold and composed manner of the breaking news), I told my aunt that we're on our way to the hospital.

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Seconds... minutes... a full half hour had passed before we heard the faint siren of the ambulance approaching the emergency room. I knew it was my father, it was what my heart told me.

The back door of the ambulance opened. The first to go down was my aunt who was still trembling, I had to hug her. Her first words were

"Ako na ang nakikiusap sayo, patawarin mo na siya sa mga pagkukulang niya sa inyo. Baka hindi mo na siya makitang buhay pa."

After that, the stretcher followed and it was my father, dressed in his trademark dirt shorts and fake Lacoste shirt. He was already unconscious and an oxygen mask covered his face.

His new mistress was with him, crying and unconsolable. I don't know who were included in the entourage but surely, things came so fast, only the pain allowed me to remember the vague details of that tense afternoon. My mother's sister turns out to be monitoring the situation through the resident doctors who were assigned in the ER that day. A few months before, she even famously told us that if something happened to my dad, she won't lift a single finger to assist us.

At the emergency room, the attendants forced him to vomit whatever was stuck inside his mouth. He was groaning so loud, perhaps out of pain and agony that my sister - who never cried when it was my mom who was rushed in the same hospital a month before, begged me to call my aunt and inform her of the situation.

Of course, she wasn't aware that my mom's sister was monitoring everything. I even knew before everyone of them found out that my dad's chance of surviving is getting slimmer and slimmer as hours pass by. In fact, my aunt told me beforehand that if ever he will survive the stroke, he would be 100% in vegetable state.

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It took an hour and a half before my mom finally arrived with her closest co-teachers. She was teary eyed, and also unconsolable. She quietly approached my dad, who was stabilized in his stretcher. I, on the other hand went outside to console his employees who began to congregate outside the emergency room.

News flies so fast especially in the world where news is being made every day.

While waiting for the countless laboratory tests perfomed to my dad to be released, my dad's sister recounted everything that happened before we found ourselves in that lonely desolate place. The night before, dad had an argument with someone, who appears interested in buying the wretched tabloid, that my dad cared so much. Some weeks before, the newspaper was out of circulation for more than a month due to lack of funds for operations. They only started producing again barely a week before he was struck by this misfortune.

That morning, while he played with my another half brother who could already be my own son, he just suddenly slumped on the floor and vomited ceaselessly. His mistress' greatest mistake was she didn't rushed my dad to a nearby health center for first aid. She waited a full hour for my dad's sister to arrive because she don't know what to do in such situation.

Nasabi ko na lang at that very moment. "Kung sa amin yan nakatira, mabilis pa sa alas kwatro nakarating yan sa ospital."

Another few hours had passed before the results finally came out. It was a massive stroke - much like those of FPJ's. He would need an emergency neurosurgery operation if we still wish to see him alive - even in a vegetable condition. Since we never had the money to support the heavy financial burden that Manila Doctors will surely demand, we agreed to transfer him to PGH, where my mom's sister was the current chairperson of an important department.

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It was already pass six, when the private ambulance arrived. By then I knew that we had already passed the point of no return. But of course, out of respect to those who sincerely believed that my father will make it, I just simply zipped my mouth and prepared for a new consciousness that will greet me in the weeks ahead.

The siren of the ambulance is the only thing that I could hear as we waded through the crammed streets of Taft. It only took us 15 minutes to arrive from Manila Doctors to PGH, but inside the vehicle, it seems like an eternity had passed.

Without any further delay, my dad was admitted in the Cerebral Intensive Care Unit of that hospital when the neurosurgeon arrived.

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"Sino ang kapamilya dito ni Mr. _______"

We all huddled like little kids, tensed and worried at the news she would reveal.

"Ang tanging choice na lang po niya mabuhay ay kung isasailalim po siya sa isang kumplikado at napakamahal na operasyon," the neurosurgeon said.

But I knew it was already too late. In fact, I started praying to the Almighty to spare him from a very long suffering.

"Kahit igapang ko pa yang kapatid ko makahanap lang ng uutangan gagawin ko," her eyes was almost burning when my dad's sister insisted this upon us.

At that moment, I just remembered that we were only given clearance by the Manila Doctors because of my aunt's sponsorship. My entire savings of P21,000 was the only money the family had in this crisis. How on earth will we acquire millions to pay for his operation?

The debate would have go on forever, thanks to the faceless, seemingly concerned "friends" of my dad who started participating in our decision making. If not for my mom's sister's deepest and gloomiest revelation that evening, we would never heed our senses.

"Masyado na tayong huli para isalba pa ang buhay niya. Baka mamaya biglang mamatay na lang yang si ____________ sa Operation Table."

And then, there was silence.

My dad's sister slumped on the floor, while mom, still in her muted voiced cried in solitude.

At seven pm, two years ago.

We all knew,




we're just counting the hours before dad gets his freedom back.



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the end.