Dr. Resty Cabigao: A legacy of compassion
MANILA, Philippines - July 8 marked the second death anniversary of my father, Dr. Orestes “Resty” Cabigao. Many ask how I am and I would always say that I am okay because the best way to honor our loved ones who have gone ahead is to live!
My family has been blessed and despite the tears, there are victories, surprises, big and small, that would come our way, a testament to God’s grace and mercy. And so, here we are living our days with a new normal.
One afternoon, I received a call from my mom telling me she needed to undergo an MRI the next day at the De Los Santos Medical Center to check on her gallbladder stones. Flashback: Memories of my dad, the sick children he would give lollipops to so they wouldn’t notice that nasty injection coming their way, the walks in those familiar corridors, my dad’s unfulfilled wish of going back to the hospital once he got well. I dread the idea of going to the hospital. It triggers sadness, but I had no choice. I had to accompany my mom and make sure she got the best medical care. No, a lollipop wouldn’t ease her anxiety. My presence would and probably an ice cream cone.
My mom’s schedule was delayed for 30 minutes due to a kid who was so restless he was put to sleep so the MRI could be completed. So when the procedure started, I left and went to the lobby. The clinic of my dad was no longer there. I felt a pinch in my heart. All the clinics in that area were demolished to give way to the newly renovated lobby I now see.
In the lobby are several paintings, two of which depict endearing rural scenes of an outdoor free clinic, a medical mission. I heard from friends that one hospital painting, the first one on the left side of the lobby shows a doctor who looks just like my dad. I never really gave it much thought until I saw the painting myself. Yes, the doctor in the painting bears an uncanny resemblance to my dad when he was younger.
Beyond the physical resemblance, the painting depicts my dad’s lifelong mission and vocation: medical missions for those in need. As he would always say, “Napakahirap maging mahirap. Dapat lagi tayong tumulong kasi maraming taong may sakit ay hindi lang wala, kundi walang wala. Tumulong ka sa kahit anong paraan, gaano man kaliit para lang maibsan ang hirap nila.” (It is very difficult to be poor. We should always help because many people who get sick are not just wanting in their needs but actually have nothing at all. Help in any way, no matter how small it seems, to ease their hardship.)
A middle-aged man, very respectable in his ways, approached me to ask if I was waiting for somebody. Apparently, he noticed I was loitering. He introduced himself as the president of the hospital, Raul Pagdanganan. I said, “O sir, I am waiting for my mom who is having an MRI. I am Gaily, the daughter of Dr. Resty Cabigao. Do you know my dad? When you took over, my dad was already sick so I don’t know if you met him.”
Mr. Pagdanganan was happy to meet me and excited, he showed me a plaque. It is a plaque honoring the ruby doctors, those who served the hospital for 40 years. He proudly told me he included my dad. I felt so grateful.
Then, he led me to a painting. He asked, ”Do you recognize the doctor in the painting?” I said yes, he is my dad! I started having goosebumps. I asked him, “Who did the painting?” He said the hospital did not commission any painter to do that. He felt the lobby was so bare and needed a painting, or several perhaps. He just asked someone to look for a painting that would look good in that lobby, a hospital scene perhaps. After searching in numerous art galleries, they finally found two at the Heritage Art Gallery. (Incidentally, my dad is buried at the Heritage Park.) It was done by Federico Gonzales who passed away in 2011.
We have no foreseeable connection to this painter and so the chance of my dad being the inspiration for the painting is very small. It is possible that one of the patients took a picture and gave it to the painter or maybe another doctor who resembled my dad was used as an inspiration for the painting, but we can only speculate.
Mr. Pagdanganan then showed me around. Walking through the hallways, he introduced me as the daughter of Dr. Cabigao to those who greeted him. One cleaning lady told me my dad was the kindest doctor she ever met. As we approached the conference room of the pediatrics department, since my dad was a pediatrician, he opened the door and introduced me to the residents. Though they were all young and never met my dad, one senior resident told me she knew my dad. Then, a doctor overheard our conversation. He approached us and said he is a doctor now because of my dad. At a very young age, Dad encouraged him to be a doctor. His visits for checkup and talks with my dad inspired him to serve, too.
The MRI was done and we fetched my mom. Mr. Pagdanganan asked if we wanted to visit Dr. Restituto Buenviaje, a very close friend of my dad. We obliged.
As we were waiting for the elevator, two old ladies hurriedly entered the building. Then, inside the elevator, Mr. Pagdanganan asked them why they were rushing. The two ladies said they were late for their appointment because they came all the way from Batangas City. He said my mom was from Batangas, too, the wife of Dr. Resty Cabigao. We saw such happy faces. One lady said she is alive now because my dad helped her. She was so poor and needed an operation and my dad did everything, asked for help from doctor friends just so she could get the needed medical attention. He asked nothing in return except for prayers for his family.
When it was time to go home, Mr. Pagdanganan told me he was amazed at how all those events happened in one day. It was like a tribute to my dad, a man of so much kindness and compassion. Being a Saturday, he was not planning to go to the hospital, but he changed his mind and was glad he did.
That day was part of a healing journey for me. Everything happens for a reason. The story of the painting and how it got there may never be confirmed or explained. For those who know Dad and have him in their hearts, he is now immortalized. He promised me he would go back to the hospital and through that painting he is, indeed, back. A promise fulfilled! The events changed my sadness into beaming pride for my father. I felt his presence, assuring me that he is still watching over us. Many people went to that hospital for healing, and Dad and all the doctors and nurses out there were used as instruments by God to bring people back to health. Despite my reluctance at first, my going to the De Los Santos Medical Center made me a recipient of God’s healing love through a painting and a doctor in it who I now claim as my father. I get the message, Dad! You want your legacy, your charity, and your compassion for the poor continued. The message is definitely loud and clear!
By the way, the gallbladder stones, which from the ultrasound seemed to exist, simply appeared as too small to bother Mom. What a blessing!
