Remembering Doc Boy H.
Last Thursday, about 25 of us Bedans from the Elementary Class of 1956 and High School Class of 1960 gathered at the Villamor Golf Club Greenside hall for our monthly birthday barkadahan.
Alas for Ruben Roque, my Section 4-40 classmate, he was the only Octoberian in town, with a few others either living or visiting abroad. And so he solo-footed the bill for the usual lechon and beers, apart from all the other pampabata stuff like crispy pata and sinugbang kambing, with balikbayan Boy Huerto pitching in with tender beef tapa from his hometown Lipa. Oh, there were also the customary wine, Johnny Walker Double Black and JW Platinum, courtesy of the gout-less gutful among us.
I didn’t have to open the Caol Ila single malt whisky bottle, as the session that started at 4 p.m. found us high-fiving goodbyes before 9 p.m. on account of expected traffic on the eve of Halloween.
It was a special get-together in more ways than one, as our alumni batch Prez LotKu Dionisio entertained everyone with a PPP featuring still photos taken through the years of our reunion affairs now running over six or seven years. All the pics had one remarkable Bedan in common, to whom we eventually gave a resounding toast, with glasses and spirits lifted high.
Dr. Serafin C. Hilvano, or Doc Boy H., had left ahead on Oct. 17. We attended the wake a couple of times at Arlington Memorial, the second and last on Oct. 21, where San Beda College Rector Fr. Aloysius Maranan and Vice Rector Fr. Rembert Tumbali concelebrated the Mass.
Our batchmate Dr. Ramon Arcadio or MonArc, Boy H.’s long-time partner-buddy at UP Manila and PGH, spoke for our Bedan class at the necro service. Earlier, he had posted the following in our e-loop:
“May our patrons St. Bede, St. Benedict and the Seraphims accompany Boy H. to the High Heavens to receive the warm embrace of the Lord, the Sto Niño de Praga, through the intercession of Mary, Our Lady of Montserrat.
“May the Benedictine Saints — St. Maur, St. Placid, St Anselm — the Celestial Bodies, the Angels and Archangels sound the trumpets and sing praises to the Lord as Boy H. arrives in his Heavenly abode.
“May Boy H. find eternal happiness and unending Heavenly bliss as he begins life everlasting.
“Farewell, Boy H., dear friend and classmate, Surgeon par excellence and Professor Emeritus.” — MonArc.
Doc Boy H. was much loved and much admired. He had repeatedly brought honor to our ’56 to ’60 batch, especially those of us who had undergone ten full years of primary schooling together.
When we dispersed for our college years, Boy H. went to UP where he became a varsity star with the basketball team. His skills were such that he even got drafted to join the San Miguel professional team. But he eventually devoted his time to his medical profession, which proved rather exemplary.
He retired as chair of the Department of Surgery several years back, but continued to conduct operations and push on with his earlier initiatives in endoscopy and laparoscopy as well as regional tele-video conferences that featured surgery, and had him receiving countless international accolades.
He traveled a lot in his last few years, regaling us by e-mail with selfies taken in Moscow, Tokyo, Europe, the UK, and the USA — where he received an international award at Palm Springs, to which our fellow Bedan Delfin “Tonts” Amorsolo drove him from LA. Of course their weekend stay together at a plush Palm Springs hotel earned envy attended by brown hoots and green jokes from the Red and White.
His son treated him to a tour of the British Isles over a year ago. And so he shared his photos of a round of golf at Scotland’s venerable St. Andrews course, including that of the tough hole he described after posing traditionally on a small bridge that arced over a stream.
Boy H. loved the good life. He wolfed down any and all kinds of food, the richer the better, and developed a fondness for single malt whisky. He preferred the fragrant ones from Speyside and the Lowlands, so that I savored irking him by bringing island malts with their peaty, smoky flavors which he frowned on.
As frequent travelers and almost-neighbors (his house was on the corner of Samat St. off Shaw, a ten-minute ride from ours), we cultvated a personal tradition that had us both dropping off pasalubongs such as football team tees, colorful silk ties which he liked sporting, bags of exotic coffee, and in one much-appreciated instance, a pack of special wheat ramen that he had selected on a Tokyo visit — from Kumamoto because he had learned that a son of mine and I had once spent a week there for an international haiku festival for kids.
The year we celebrated our golden jubilee in the old campus on Mendiola, we also enjoyed many other activities throughout 2010: golf tourneys, beach trips, and a special evening sponsored by our Bedan batchmate doctors, among them Dr. MonArc who was then UP Manila Chancellor, Dr. Lewi Pasion, Dr. Boy Pineda, Dr. Baet Valenzuela, and Doc Boy H. of course.
This was held at UP Diiman’s Executive House, lent to us for the occasion. Wild and wooly it was, with the shameless highlight culminating a spoof presentation. Before anyone knew it, our distinguished docs had concealed themselves behind a tarpaulin, before being dramatically revealed in their individual naked glories as living editions of the Oblation.
Well, the other self-respecting physicians had stripped down to boxer shorts and socks. But the eminent surgeon did them all better by displaying himself in bikini briefs, and even threatening to cast those off until the ladies in the audience screamed in mock horror.
Oh yes, we’ll remember Doc Boy H. for the honors he shared with us, too: Most Distinguished Bedan Award, San Beda Alumni Association, 2008; Oblation Award, Pillar of Excellence in Leadership and Managenent, UP Manila Alumni Association, 2008; Dr. Jose P. Rizal Memorial Award for the Distinguished Filipino Physician in Cinical Practice, 2005; Enrique Garcia Professorial Chair, College of Medicine, UP Manila, 2001-2002; Service Above Self Award, Rotary International, 1997…
We’ll remember all those nights of reuniting and carousing since our mid-teens together, over drinks and pulutan and that Death By Tablea choc cake that he relished so much, many times while enjoying our Red Lions’ championship games on TV — at eNgDi Reyes’ Chocolat shop off Xavierville; at the Hacienda resto, the Tiendesitas’ coffee stalls, Valle Verde Sports Club and Midas Casino, all courtesy of our other recently dear-departed “Meyor” Jun Diangco; at Ding Wenceslao’s Aseana Bedan Hall; at Gov/Rep Rod Valencia’s penthouse dance floor; and of course at Villamor courtesy of Gen. Tutie Ebuen. Plus many other venues for our moveable feasting.
And we’ll treasure most Doc Boy H.’s convivial and hail-fellow-well-met spirit, sense of camaraderie, generosity (in the last few years he conducted life-saving surgery on a couple of our batchmates), and dedication to family (he drove to Dinalupihan in Bataan and back every weekend to be with his wife Cecile who ran the hospital there, and performed commendable surgical operations together with two of his daughters).
He’ll always be my favorite doc, too, as he once told us remaining smokers in our group to pay no heed to concerns over failing to break the habit. At our age, he said, none of you will gain any more years if you ever decide to go cold turkey. For that sage advice, we offered him more platefuls of lechon. After all, we were all competing for the LMS trophy. That’s for Last Man Standing.
I had always thought Doc Boy H. and I would be the final rivals to try to outvote one another off our shared island of mortality. Tears have dropped (“Hanggang Sa Huling Patak” is our Class slogan imprinted on our red t-shirts) the last two weeks, especially when I realized that the last colorful tie I had picked up abroad didn’t quite make it. And I was going to tell him, “Oy, Doc Boy, ‘di pamburol yan, ha.”
Tongue turned devil, sadly. Thus, I had to hand it to Cecile at the wake, saying she could keep it or send it off with our beloved Boy for his cremation.
She and the Hilvano siblings were supposed to attend our October barkadahan and memorial evening for Doc Boy H., but it turned out to be the pa-siyam night.
That’s all right. We’ll always be with Cecile, whom we all thank for taking care of a good man. Bye for now, Doc Boy, and see you in single malt heaven, where I hope to show you my proud LMS trophy.
