| Photo by Jonathan Ramalho on Unsplash
I suspect I’ve been infected by one of the flu-like viruses currently surging in China, though our own Department of Health (DOH) insists there’s no cause for alarm. In other words, there’s no pandemic, no epidemic, and no new or old variant of COVID-19—just human metapneumovirus (HMPV). Our medical authorities seem intent on downplaying its severity, reminding us that we’re simply in flu season, an annual cycle.
It will take a long time before I can trust the DOH again. During the pandemic, corruption tainted every major expense—from overpriced COVID-19 tests and vaccines to the misuse of PhilHealth funds for emergency medical supplies that were never even utilized. The pandemic was also used as justification for borrowing trillions more in debt.
But I digress from my own insignificant health issue to one of the greatest plunders our country has ever seen—one I’ve grown tired of hoping will be resolved. Instead, I’ll focus on HMPV, which has been wreaking havoc on children and senior citizens, causing flu-like symptoms that linger for weeks, even months. It is not deadly if we are to believe the DOH, but it is not serious enough to warrant a national awareness campaign on prevention and treatment.
In other words, we are on our own. Filipinos must seek remedies wherever they can, hoping they don’t stumble upon something compelling yet unlicensed by the DOH and FDA—lest the source be legally harassed. I remember the first year of the pandemic when, despite offering no curative solutions, the DOH and FDA were quick to discredit alternatives like Ivermectin, which pharmaceutical giants disapproved of.
To help myself, I left Metro Manila’s unhealthy environment for a few days and retreated to the foothills of a majestic mountain. I hoped the fresh air would help, even though the high humidity wasn’t ideal. Still, the much cooler climate—ranging from 18 to 25°C—helped my body recover, while the quiet, only occasionally broken by distant crowing roosters, soothed my mind and spirit.
But like many Filipinos who know their health fares better outside the country’s urban centers, my options are limited. I am no billionaire. As a senior citizen, my body is exhausted, and my life savings, like many others, are not limitless. That means returning to a polluted metropolis, taking solace in the company of my grandchildren, and bracing myself for the hyperactive noise of traditional and social media—both of which seem to be a curse on any senior’s pursuit of serenity. Like a rocket that has wandered into deep space, I must now prepare for re-entry.
“As much as I acknowledge that the state of our country is at a low and fragile point, I also know that the answer isn’t me—it’s us. A national dilemma requires a collective effort, where each person contributes something better: better behavior, productivity, and vision. Only then can we shift the national trajectory.”
What is life like for a senior citizen like me? Full retirement is out of the question for someone deeply concerned with the socio-political landscape of the Philippines. The nagging thought remains: Have we done enough? The answer is usually no. Then comes the more challenging question: What can we do with the lessons we’ve learned—mostly the hard way—and how do we pass them on to younger socio-political advocates?
At the same time, life urges us to let go—to turn inward, not in a selfish way, but toward deeper self-reflection. Yet this is no easy task. We have spent so much time immersed in the noisy, external world that detaching from it feels unnatural. And it’s even harder to step away when the causes we have fought for remain vital to building a better society.
Should advocates abandon the struggles they’ve dedicated decades to? Would focusing on the spiritual—on possible life after death—be a distraction from making life better for those still here and those who will come after us? Or is it possible to balance inner contemplation with meaningful advocacy?
A Collective Responsibility
As much as I acknowledge that the state of our country is at a low and fragile point, I also know that the answer isn’t me—it’s us. A national dilemma requires a collective effort, where each person contributes something better: better behavior, productivity, and vision. Only then can we shift the national trajectory. The odds are against us because reversing a bad pattern is always challenging and painful.
But this realization brings me peace. I cannot carry the burden of change alone because the problem is collective. Yet I also understand that even small, personal efforts—if successful—contribute strategically to the whole. The challenge is not to do it all or even too much but to trust that every seemingly small contribution matters. It is the secret sauce of democracy.
I have taken a brief yet powerful respite in an environment that refreshes me—where the air is pure, the waters are clean, and solitude offers healing magic. That alone is a great blessing. I wish the same for others, wherever they may find their places of refuge.
