PAL RAINE

Yesterday was a tough day. An eye-opening one—literally and emotionally.

We went to Brokenshire Hospital for an ophthalmology consultation for my mama. Lately, I’ve noticed how her vision is deteriorating. She’s been half-blind for a while now, and it breaks my heart every time I see her struggle with daily things—things that once came so easily. As a daughter, seeing your mother in that state does something to your soul. I just wanted to know what I could do to help.

We woke up early. We were hoping to see the first doctor we chose, but when we arrived at the clinic, it was already closed. Apparently, they were only accommodating ten patients that day, and we were too late. That was disheartening, but I didn’t want to give up.

So, I searched for another ophthalmologist within the hospital. That’s when I found out Dr. Libre would be available in the afternoon. I quickly messaged his secretary, asking what time the clinic would open. She replied, “3PM.” Since it was still early, we decided to go home and rest.

By 2PM, we were back at the hospital. The clinic was already open when we arrived, and the secretary handed me a slip of paper where I wrote down my mother’s details. Then the wait began.

We sat in that waiting area for about two hours. Time seemed to crawl, but all I could think about was: I hope this doctor can help us.

Finally, at 5PM, we were called in. After a few minutes, the doctor examined my mother. His findings confirmed what I feared—Mama has a cataract in her left eye, and the right eye is developing one too. His recommendation? Eye laser surgery on her left eye. The cost? Around ₱60,000+, even with PhilHealth coverage.

When I heard the cost, I didn’t know how to react.

I sat there, stunned. I wanted to cry, but I held it in. I wanted to be strong for Mama.

Pity. Helplessness. Worry. Love. All these emotions hit me at once. I looked at her—my ever-strong, ever-loving mother—and I felt a deep ache in my chest. I just want her to see the world clearly again. To enjoy life, to read her Bible, to watch her favorite shows, to walk without fear.

But where do I get that amount of money?

I honestly don’t know yet. But what I do know is—I will do everything I can. Because she’s my mama. Because she deserves to see life in full color again.

I’m writing this not just to share what happened, but also as a reminder to myself and maybe to anyone reading this: never take your sight—or your loved ones—for granted.

Mama, I promise you—I'll find a way.