A doctor’s mission nobly accomplished

Former Secretary of Health Juan Flavier, now a senator, initiated the Doctors to the Barrios Program which is being diligently carried out by the current Secretary of Health Manuel H. Dayrit.

Certain medical graduates shirk the required two-year barrio stint, fearful of primitive living conditions. What a shame! What a pity! Through their duplicity these new graduates will never know what invaluable experience they are missing or have missed by evading their medical duties.

The following inspirational speech of Dr. Edward Santos signifies how his mind and spirit were uplifted and enriched by being "an agent of change". While contributing immensely to the physical well-being of an entire community, he became in the process not only a better doctor and all-around public servant but also, and more importantly a better man.

Read his speech – here reproduced in condensed form – delivered on the inauguration of the DOH’s Doctors to Barrios/Pfizer Learning and Training Center at the DOH compound:

Two years ago, I left Manila anxious to serve as a barrio doctor in a place called Uyugan, Batanes Province. It is a sleepy town of 1,200 Ivatans and about 20 kilometers from the capital town of Basco. Just graduated from UERM, I was then glowing with eagerness to do something different, yet meaningful. I didn’t need so much convincing to realize that enlisting as a doctor to the barrios would be the most ideal venue to carry out that plan.

And so I left for Uyugan with just my stethoscope, a few books, several clothes, and boundless idealism. Two years went by so swiftly. A little over a month ago, I returned from the service a changed person.

Today, I’m not just a doctor. I have become a community organizer as well. Being a barrio doctor puts you in a unique involvement in so many areas, not just in the curative side of things. My first game plan was to acquaint, orient and train the staff as well as to organize and train 12 barangay health workers who served as my partners in the job. We made sure all of us were adequately prepared and available anytime for any patient.

We’ve had our share of consultations under the trees, in waiting sheds, inside public utility jeeps, improvised tents, by the shore, and all other imaginable places. We made sure the people in Uyugan received quality health service, something they really deserved. And so my staff, the barangay health workers and I would go around the community on foot, sometimes on bicycles. We have lost count of the many patients we have seen, of the number of TB cases diagnosed, of how many dehydrated children were rehydrated. We have likewise lost count of how many live chickens, fruit baskets, fresh fish, seafoods and vegetables were brought to our clinic most likely in appreciation for what we do or have done for them.

Today, I’m no longer just a doctor. I have also become an educator. Like many rural health centers across the country, Uyugan was not different in terms of provisions. When I came in, it was a humbling experience. Not even an alligator forceps was available. When I left, we had managed to equip Uyugan’s barangay health center with much needed basic medical equipment like nebulizers, portable BP apparatus, and glucometers which were very helpful in the delivery of basic health services. More importantly, we made sure people in the area knew how to handle those tools and respond to whatever emergency might arise.

Today, I’m no longer just a doctor. I have become a braver friend and a better son. When I first left home for Batanes, my family, although supportive, was more distressed. They had heard stories – both nice and not so-very-nice – about Batanes and they just couldn’t imagine how anyone from the city would survive living in the area. People who have been to the place also offered their share of stories, sometimes encouraging, sometimes appalling. They insisted that I fill up myself with a rice diet before leaving for my assignment since there would only be rootcrops for me there. They also said I should savor my last ripe mango here before flying to Batanes since there is absolutely no mango in the area.

I have not chanced upon those people I had been warned about. Those who had worried for me had better keep themselves updated. Batanes is a pleasant surprise. It’s like living in another world, a republic within a republic. There is no way you don’t stop in awe and marvel at God’s creation when you’re in the place. When I traveled along the coastline on motorcycle, I had repeatedly stopped at certain points and briefly closed my eyes in silent and deep prayer. But the magic of Batanes dwells more clearly among the Ivatan natives.

They are some of the nicest, most pleasant and warm people I have met. I have learned a few Ivatan words and I can dance the Ivatan Fandanggo. People like them make lives on assignment a lot easier.

Of course, there are those who believe in the Doctors to the Barrios program. People who make our two-year stint more productive and meaningful. They are the mayors of the local government units we serve who support our visions and initiatives, and our program managers who have improved on the way things are being run in the program.

So now, after two years with the program, I am no longer just a doctor. I have become a community organizer, an educator, a manager, a braver son, and better friend. I also believe that I have become an agent of change. Most of my classmates may have chosen different path towards more lucrative careers both here and abroad. I don’t take that against them because there are other patients who benefit from their expertise. But I call on them as well to embrace the challenge of the times. I call it the Barrio Challenge, to which every answering graduate willfully devotes a period of productive time in direct volunteer service right here in our native land whose generosity helped us to be where we are today. And from there, I assure them they will share in our discovery that there is a certain wholeness to life they can learn from serving others, especially those who have not met a doctor in their lives.