This was birthday invitation my friend Eric Benito sent through text.
There were just about 10 children and their parents in the function room at the sixth floor of the National Children’s Hospital when I arrived. I immediately caught sight of a little girl in her bubbly self. She was four years old, had hydrocephalus and was confined to her stroller.
When I saw Eric, he immediately asked me, "Are you all right?" He had to ask me that question because some of the visitors he invited got depressed upon seeing the kids who were sick. I said I was okay, but truth was, I breathed deeply, trying to compose myself as I turned on my reporter mode. By this I mean, my unaffected self. As a reporter trying to get a story, I’ve developed a skill to hold back my emotions to get a clearer perspective of an issue.
I was not covering a story that day, but this was a time when I could not allow my feelings to show. Seeing the children was heartbreaking but the last thing the patients and their parents needed was pity. I told myself not to cry at what I saw.
The kids started coming in with their parents. They were all very young, most of them toddlers, infants. Two infants were beside each other and both had tumor the size of tennis balls at their lower back. Then in came more kids. It was hard not to notice the baby girl whose head was almost as big as her mother’s torso. She could barely see me. Her face showed no emotion.
A little boy smiled at me, but his face was old and wrinkled from malnourishment.
It was difficult and painful. I looked at the children straight in the eye. I tried to avoid the different manifestations of their illness.
So when I saw a seven-year-old boy with bloodshot eyes. I almost broke down. "Oh, God…" I quietly prayed for strength. I forced a smile even as I saw that his mouth was covered with dried blood. It was shattering.
I apologize to my Sunday readers for being graphic, but these were the realities that greeted me in that party.
Ricky Davao shared his experience with me when he first joined Eric’s party two years ago. He cried in front of the kids.
Cynthia Manzanares, Child Life project officer of Kythe Foundation, explained that the organization’s purpose is to provide psychosocial support and strength to parents. Volunteers could not show signs of weakness.
"Being a volunteer can be depressing because you can’t help but get attached to children and it is painful when they die."
Kythe, founded 14 years ago, is associated to children with the Big C, but now it also serves children with chronic illnesses like Wilms’ tumor, Marasmus and Meningocoele. Cynthia patiently explained and spelled out the terms for me, but the images of the children stuck and deserved no further explanation. It was apparent that they needed medical attention.
"It can be emotionally draining," Cynthia says, but the volunteers want to give children the quality of life other kids enjoy.
A little boy was enjoying himself blowing bubbles. It seemed so simple to me, but Cynthia said it was also therapy for their lungs.
Last Thursday allowed me to see two facets of the life of a volunteer. While Ricky admitted it was heartbreaking to see parents and their children go through tremendous pain, he showed no sign of it as he dealt with the families and the patients. His energy was infectious! The children and the parents laughed at his antics.
I watched actor and volunteer Dominic Ochoa joke about his pink shirt… "Para magmukhang bata"… and again the crowd started roaring and laughing.
The parents sang and some children danced to the song, Boom Tarat Tarat, led by another visitor, Ms. Charo Santos-Concio.
For a brief moment it seemed that the children and their parents forgot about their situation. The room resounded with joy and happiness… and hope.
Before I left, a lady led the prayer before meals, praying for healing for the patients in the room. "If not, " she added, "please make the parents strong to accept your blessings," she continued with her prayer. I was praying for a miracle.
Being with the children made you vulnerable to their pain, but it also allowed you to share their joy. Their laughter lingers. Their strength inspires.
I thank Eric for the opportunity to meet Allen, Angelica, the little girl I called Princess and the other children in his party. They were simply kids – no plus, no minus – who deserved to have fun.
"We don’t say no," Cynthia replied to my query on how they choose their beneficiaries.
I looked at Cynthia in disbelief. "We don’t choose patients based on prognosis… unless the sponsor requests it."
On how to become a sponsor or a volunteer, visit www.kythe.org or call 376-3454 or 0918-9072094
Have a blessed Sunday!
(E-mail me at bernadettesembrano@gmail.com.)