Columban College Inc.
College of Nursing
Rizal Street. Barrio Barretto
Olongapo City 2200 Philippine:
Tel No. 222-9360 Local 203 and 222-9361
Email Address: columban_ nursing@[Link]
Name: Robert John Cantil
BSN 2B
Reflection Essay: My Father’s Journey Through the
Philippine Health Care System
It all started five years ago when my father had an accident that caused a blood clot in his
head. He was admitted to the ICU, and within a blink of an eye, our hospital bill rolled up to
around ₱100,000. Thankfully, he had PhilHealth, but the coverage was not enough to make a
dent in the expenses since it was categorized as an accident. This was only the beginning of our
long journey in the Philippine health care system. We thought we were done with one crisis, but
soon after, doctors discovered that my father had kidney failure. That was the start of his dialysis
journey. a long road that tested not only his strength, but our entire family’s patience, finances,
and hope.
At first, I didn’t fully understand what was happening. All I knew was that dialysis
wasn’t a one-time treatment. It had to be done regularly, and each session cost more than we
could comfortably afford. My parents used what savings we had, even dipping into my college
fund, just so my father could continue his treatments. When his fistula got infected and needed to
be transferred to his arm, the expenses piled up again. We kept hoping that things would
eventually settle, but instead the problems only grew heavier. In the end, we sold our small store
and farm just to keep up with hospital bills and procedures. Most of my father’s dialysis was
done at a private center in San Narciso, but emergencies often forced us to run to hospitals in
Olongapo or Iba, depending on where services were available. I remember one particular day
when he seemed unusually weak during dialysis. Later, we got a call from the center saying his
blood pressure had dropped and he needed to be rushed to James Gordon Hospital. When we
arrived, the nurses told us he couldn’t proceed with dialysis without first taking a COVID swab
test. The problem was that the hospital didn’t have testing available, so we had to go all the way
back home to San Antonio and then to Iba the next day for the swab. By then, my father was
already too weak. He no longer wanted to go back to the hospital, tired of the stress and the way
he felt treated. Not long after, he passed away at home.
At first, I blamed the hospital. I felt they failed him. But as the days passed, I realized the
truth was more complicated. What happened wasn’t just about one hospital or one nurse. It was
about a health care system that often fails families like ours. In the Philippines, money
determines the kind of care you receive. If you don’t have enough, you simply don’t get the same
treatment as others. That reality hit us hard, and it’s something I will never forget. PhilHealth
helped in some ways, but it was never enough. Dialysis is expensive, and although part of it was
covered, the remaining cost still drained us. We had no other insurance to lean on, so we relied
solely on what little we had. Eventually, our resources ran out. And that’s the painful truth where
Columban College Inc.
College of Nursing
Rizal Street. Barrio Barretto
Olongapo City 2200 Philippine:
Tel No. 222-9360 Local 203 and 222-9361
Email Address: columban_ nursing@[Link]
families like mine end up sacrificing education, livelihood, and stability just to buy a little more
time with someone they love.
Looking back, I see the strengths and weaknesses of our health system more clearly.
Service delivery was often fragmented and uncoordinated. Dialysis centers, hospitals, and testing
sites didn’t work together, forcing us to travel long distances just to meet requirements.
Financing was an even bigger problem. PhilHealth exists, but its coverage is still too limited to
prevent families from falling into poverty because of medical expenses. The WHO calls this
“catastrophic health spending,” and sadly, we became an example of it. What I also noticed was
the way health workers interacted with patients. Many were skilled, but some lacked
compassion. For someone like my father, who was already fragile, being treated coldly only
made him lose the will to fight. Compassion matters as much as medicine, and I wish more
health professionals understood that.
From this experience, I believe several changes are needed. First, PhilHealth should
expand its coverage, especially for chronic conditions like dialysis. More free sessions should be
provided so families aren’t forced into impossible financial choices. Second, public hospitals
need to be better equipped, so patients don’t have to run from one place to another just to get
basic tests. Third, training for health workers should emphasize not only skill but also empathy.
Patients are not just cases; they are people, and how they are treated can shape their will to keep
fighting. Lastly, barangay health centers should take a stronger role in supporting families with
long-term illnesses through regular check-ins, counseling, and easier access to aid. My father’s
story is just one among many. There are countless Filipino families going through the same
struggles and sacrificing everything they have, only to still lose the battle in the end. The
Philippine health care system has dedicated workers and existing insurance schemes, but the
gaps are too wide and the costs too heavy. If anything, this experience has shown me how unfair
life can feel for ordinary Filipinos who get sick. It also made me realize that improving health
care is not just about adding more hospitals or machines, but about creating a system that truly
cares for every patient, regardless of wealth.
In the end, I’ve learned to accept that what happened to my father could not be changed.
But I hold onto the hope that his story, and others like it, can serve as a call to action. Health care
should not be a privilege reserved for those who can afford it. It should be a right that every
Filipino can access with dignity, fairness, and compassion.
