Confessions of a hypochondriac
June 20, 2004 | 12:00am
When I was a little girl, my yaya had a ready explanation for every little ailment that came to pass. If I had fever, it was because I got rained on (never mind if it was just literally two drops of water from the sky), if I had cough or cold it was supposedly because I wore a sleeveless shirt in an air-conditioned room, and the few times I had a sty on one eye it was, believe it or not, because I probably saw someone naked.
For every "diagnosis," of course, was a remedy. For instance, she always said that the latter could easily be cured by pulling the eyelash that was sitting directly on the sty. One time I remember bumping my head and she immediately twirled my hair on the spot where it was starting to swell and surprise of surprises, started blowing on it. She said that was what the old women from her place used to do. True, no swelling happened but I neither believe nor disbelieve that her huffing and puffing had anything to do with that. I know I always prayed for every little thing and if at all, I attribute the absence of any swelling to faith and prayer. And I leave it at that.
Maybe it was because of this kind of orientation, so prevalent in provinces, that I grew up thinking that doctors and hospitals were only for the seriously sick. I had this somewhat twisted perception that anything the old folks could not explain and remedy naturally were the only things that merited a doctor’s attention. In my mind I had tagged all doctors as messengers of bad news. I grew up a hypochondriac, scared at my wit’s end of every little pain and discomfort. I would ceaselessly ask anyone a "what-do-you-think-of-this-symptom" question. Anyone but a real doctor, too fearful as I was of hearing a real diagnosis. Really now, in hindsight, how stupid can that get? Wrong answers, needless to say, result in a wrong course of action and I am only too thankful that I was also scared to self-medicate. Heaven knows the trouble I would have gotten myself into.
When I got married, my husband was able to slowly snap me out of my psychosomatic rut. He, unlike me, is of the school that you go to a Japanese restaurant for good Japanese food, you go to school to learn, you go to a doctor for medication. He always explains to me, as patiently as he can to a stubborn hypochondriac, that I need not stress myself over something I know nothing about. Richard has seen me many times poring over medical books (he always says I dream up symptoms each time I scan through a health page) and pounding on the keys of the computer like a madwoman (you guessed it, I type in a symptom and the crazy computer always gives me the worst-case scenario). It is a vicious cycle. I self-diagnosed, I was a certified quack doctor.
If you must know though, my complaints were more imagined than real; what I thought was a heart attack turned out to be heartburn, a small bump on my shoulder that I thought had to be surgically removed turned out to be a fat deposit, what I thought was hypertension was simply vertigo.
Through all these were wonderful doctors who patiently put up with nutty hypochondriacs like me. Thank God for them. Doctors are unsung heroes who take it upon themselves to make you feel better when you feel a bit under the weather. I remember today, on Father’s Day, four wonderful men who belong not to the impersonal, unfeeling lot that doctors are generally blanketed under. In contrast, they are compassionate and nothing short of wonderful.
Dr. Augusto Sarmiento is my mom’s doctor but so comfortable I am with him that I consult him for every little thing. When my mom was diagnosed to have a tiny lump in her breast I was so distraught at the thought of what she had to go through. My whole outlook, however, changed the day we all met Dr. Sarmiento. He has a way of making patients feel and know that they are in good hands. He is such a wonderful doctor and I cannot say that often enough because not only has he taken very good care of my mom, he has taken care of all his other patients very well. I have met other people who know him and they all have the same positive things to say about him. Here is one doctor who never brushes aside any patient nor symptom. I remember calling him when I was so sure I was having a heart attack and instead of saying "That’s nothing" he told me that although I did not fit the profile of someone at the risk of having a heart attack he could meet me at the ER and run some tests if that would make me feel better. Like I mentioned earlier, my "heart attack" was actually just a heartburn.
My mom always says that seeing Dr. Sarmiento is enough to make her feel better. And I agree. When we wait our turn outside his clinic door there is already that comfort; we know that inside is the man who ably and wonderfully takes care of all our health needs. All seems instantly well with knowing that he is at the helm.
I look up to Dr. Sarmiento like a father, he has that calming presence. Through one of our conversations he put in perspective every hypochondriac’s fear of doctors. He told me that if we take good care of our possessions – we have our vehicles regularly tuned up, our jewelry polished, the appliances cleaned and maintained – should we not devote the same kind of TLC to our own bodies?
Dr. Jimmy Gatchalian, whom my siblings and I call Tito Jimmy, was the doctor we grew up with in our hometown of Ormoc. Daddy always brought us to him for flu shots, cuts, bouts with diarrhea, etc. Things are okay when Tito Jimmy says so. When both my mom and dad had to go through surgery a few years back, my dad’s only request was that Tito Jimmy be at the operating room. Tito Jimmy and his wife Tita Ador have been, for as long as I can remember, a wonderful part of our family.
I knew of Doc Allen Sy and Dr. Amado Pacio, both ENT specialists, through Richard. I would often hear Richard mention someone by the name Doc Allen Sy and I only realized he was actually a doctor when Richard called him for some medication for my then sore throat. I honestly thought that Doc was simply part of his name. He is the doctor who prescribes medication that effectively zaps any trace of soreness in the throat. I have called him countless times and always he is very accommodating and yes, patient with all my numerous inquiries.
I met Dr. Amado Pacio just recently and he struck me as a very comforting man. I will always remember what he said about making an appointment with God the same way we make an appointment with our doctor. He says that simply setting aside even five minutes every day is enough to ground you and keep things in perspective. In everything he always tells his patients to do their best and leave the rest to God. It was with Dr. Pacio that Richard found lasting relief from his sinus problems.
Doctors, maybe without their knowing it, are pillars of strength for their patients. For me, they are proof positive that God loves and cares for us enough to field earth angels such as them to take care of our ailments, whether they are real or imagined. Beneath the polished veneer of professionalism though, let us not forget that they are human beings who deserve far more than a passing thought and thank you. On Father’s Day, I honor these four wonderful doctors. Because of you guys the world is a much nicer place.
Dr. Augusto Sarmiento holds clinic at the 19th floor Medical Arts Tower, The Medical City Compound, Ortigas Avenue, Pasig City. Call 631-3875, 635-6789 loc 5274.
Doctor Jimmy Gatchalian practices in Ormoc City. He can be reached at (053)255-2203.
Doc Allen Sy holds clinic at M. Tech Hospital along Jupiter St., Bel-Air. He can be reached at 896-6711.
Dr. Amada Pacio holds clinic at Cardinal Santos Medical Center. He can be reached at 725-4355.
For every "diagnosis," of course, was a remedy. For instance, she always said that the latter could easily be cured by pulling the eyelash that was sitting directly on the sty. One time I remember bumping my head and she immediately twirled my hair on the spot where it was starting to swell and surprise of surprises, started blowing on it. She said that was what the old women from her place used to do. True, no swelling happened but I neither believe nor disbelieve that her huffing and puffing had anything to do with that. I know I always prayed for every little thing and if at all, I attribute the absence of any swelling to faith and prayer. And I leave it at that.
Maybe it was because of this kind of orientation, so prevalent in provinces, that I grew up thinking that doctors and hospitals were only for the seriously sick. I had this somewhat twisted perception that anything the old folks could not explain and remedy naturally were the only things that merited a doctor’s attention. In my mind I had tagged all doctors as messengers of bad news. I grew up a hypochondriac, scared at my wit’s end of every little pain and discomfort. I would ceaselessly ask anyone a "what-do-you-think-of-this-symptom" question. Anyone but a real doctor, too fearful as I was of hearing a real diagnosis. Really now, in hindsight, how stupid can that get? Wrong answers, needless to say, result in a wrong course of action and I am only too thankful that I was also scared to self-medicate. Heaven knows the trouble I would have gotten myself into.
When I got married, my husband was able to slowly snap me out of my psychosomatic rut. He, unlike me, is of the school that you go to a Japanese restaurant for good Japanese food, you go to school to learn, you go to a doctor for medication. He always explains to me, as patiently as he can to a stubborn hypochondriac, that I need not stress myself over something I know nothing about. Richard has seen me many times poring over medical books (he always says I dream up symptoms each time I scan through a health page) and pounding on the keys of the computer like a madwoman (you guessed it, I type in a symptom and the crazy computer always gives me the worst-case scenario). It is a vicious cycle. I self-diagnosed, I was a certified quack doctor.
If you must know though, my complaints were more imagined than real; what I thought was a heart attack turned out to be heartburn, a small bump on my shoulder that I thought had to be surgically removed turned out to be a fat deposit, what I thought was hypertension was simply vertigo.
Through all these were wonderful doctors who patiently put up with nutty hypochondriacs like me. Thank God for them. Doctors are unsung heroes who take it upon themselves to make you feel better when you feel a bit under the weather. I remember today, on Father’s Day, four wonderful men who belong not to the impersonal, unfeeling lot that doctors are generally blanketed under. In contrast, they are compassionate and nothing short of wonderful.
Dr. Augusto Sarmiento is my mom’s doctor but so comfortable I am with him that I consult him for every little thing. When my mom was diagnosed to have a tiny lump in her breast I was so distraught at the thought of what she had to go through. My whole outlook, however, changed the day we all met Dr. Sarmiento. He has a way of making patients feel and know that they are in good hands. He is such a wonderful doctor and I cannot say that often enough because not only has he taken very good care of my mom, he has taken care of all his other patients very well. I have met other people who know him and they all have the same positive things to say about him. Here is one doctor who never brushes aside any patient nor symptom. I remember calling him when I was so sure I was having a heart attack and instead of saying "That’s nothing" he told me that although I did not fit the profile of someone at the risk of having a heart attack he could meet me at the ER and run some tests if that would make me feel better. Like I mentioned earlier, my "heart attack" was actually just a heartburn.
My mom always says that seeing Dr. Sarmiento is enough to make her feel better. And I agree. When we wait our turn outside his clinic door there is already that comfort; we know that inside is the man who ably and wonderfully takes care of all our health needs. All seems instantly well with knowing that he is at the helm.
I look up to Dr. Sarmiento like a father, he has that calming presence. Through one of our conversations he put in perspective every hypochondriac’s fear of doctors. He told me that if we take good care of our possessions – we have our vehicles regularly tuned up, our jewelry polished, the appliances cleaned and maintained – should we not devote the same kind of TLC to our own bodies?
Dr. Jimmy Gatchalian, whom my siblings and I call Tito Jimmy, was the doctor we grew up with in our hometown of Ormoc. Daddy always brought us to him for flu shots, cuts, bouts with diarrhea, etc. Things are okay when Tito Jimmy says so. When both my mom and dad had to go through surgery a few years back, my dad’s only request was that Tito Jimmy be at the operating room. Tito Jimmy and his wife Tita Ador have been, for as long as I can remember, a wonderful part of our family.
I knew of Doc Allen Sy and Dr. Amado Pacio, both ENT specialists, through Richard. I would often hear Richard mention someone by the name Doc Allen Sy and I only realized he was actually a doctor when Richard called him for some medication for my then sore throat. I honestly thought that Doc was simply part of his name. He is the doctor who prescribes medication that effectively zaps any trace of soreness in the throat. I have called him countless times and always he is very accommodating and yes, patient with all my numerous inquiries.
I met Dr. Amado Pacio just recently and he struck me as a very comforting man. I will always remember what he said about making an appointment with God the same way we make an appointment with our doctor. He says that simply setting aside even five minutes every day is enough to ground you and keep things in perspective. In everything he always tells his patients to do their best and leave the rest to God. It was with Dr. Pacio that Richard found lasting relief from his sinus problems.
Doctors, maybe without their knowing it, are pillars of strength for their patients. For me, they are proof positive that God loves and cares for us enough to field earth angels such as them to take care of our ailments, whether they are real or imagined. Beneath the polished veneer of professionalism though, let us not forget that they are human beings who deserve far more than a passing thought and thank you. On Father’s Day, I honor these four wonderful doctors. Because of you guys the world is a much nicer place.
Doctor Jimmy Gatchalian practices in Ormoc City. He can be reached at (053)255-2203.
Doc Allen Sy holds clinic at M. Tech Hospital along Jupiter St., Bel-Air. He can be reached at 896-6711.
Dr. Amada Pacio holds clinic at Cardinal Santos Medical Center. He can be reached at 725-4355.
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