The extraordinariness of ordinary people

They are ordinary people doing ordinary jobs. But on their own volition, they choose to be extraordinary — with voluntary prayers.

In the many days and many nights my 77-year-old mother was at the Perpetual Help Medical Center in Biñan, Laguna, I met two strangers that willingly held my hand in prayer.

Every day, for 12 days (my mother spent seven days at St. James Hospital in Santa Rosa City before being transferred to Perpetual Help for angioplasty), Emmie Vargas, 63, a sidewalk vendor, and Frankie Pulvera, 59, a security guard at the main entrance of the hospital, would give me a nod, a thumbs up, a smile. Many times, they allowed me to be quiet for a moment, beside them, as I waited for the rain to stop by the lobby of the hospital or as I just quietly sat on a bench by the roadside. On different occasions, they performed extraordinary jobs — that of being a prayer conduit.

The kindness of strangers was a welcome respite for a soul weighed down heavily with weariness and uncertainty.

“Please say a prayer for my mother,” I told Manong Frankie a little before 10 p.m. on the Thursday my mother had a morning angioplasty. His presence every time I passed by the main entrance of the hospital was calming. “My mother developed a complication after the angioplasty; there’s fluid that needs to be drained in her heart. Please say a prayer.”

“I already did,” said the 59-year-old guard in the vernacular. He sensed something was wrong when my brothers returned that night to the hospital earlier than I did. I was about to take my late dinner in a restaurant a few kilometers away from the hospital when my niece called for the emergency pericardiostomy surgery to be performed on Nanay.

Manong Frankie is not the usual security guard. He keeps a separate paper where names of patients confined in the hospital are written. He looks at the list, says their names, and offers prayers for them and their families “sa umaga, tanghali at gabi (in the morning, afternoon and night).” It’s his silent advocacy. But I was privy to it on the third night of my mother’s confinement because I saw a paper with names inserted in his logbook as I filled out a health declaration form before entering the hospital premises.

“Your mother will be okay. Just have faith,” he added as he led me to the elevator. “Hang on to faith.”

And to my mind that ran non-stop, his words came like a balm to the soul.

Manong Frankie lives in Mabuhay Village in Mamatid, Cabuyao, Laguna. He’s been a security guard at Perpetual for 25 years now. His loyalty to his job earned him the trust of the hospital owners who made his two children scholars in school.

“My daughter takes up Marketing at Perpetual University. My son takes up Industrial Engineering. I only pay for their miscellaneous fees,” he said.

“When a patient is admitted, I automatically pray to the Lord to heal him or her. That’s all I can do. I also pray for the patient’s relatives. They also are problematic. In my many years of being a guard, I’ve seen happiness and sadness,” Mang Frankie told me.

“Masaya ang eksena kapag pauwi na ang pasyente. Yung saya nila parang tumama sa lotto. Kahit maraming beses naririnig ko na malaki ang binayaran nila (It’s a joyful scene when the patient is leaving the hospital. Their joy is like they won in the lottery. Even if many times I hear them talk about how expensive their expenses are),” he added.

Manang Emmie, on the other hand, many times seated on a pavement outside the hospital as she guarded her wares including candies, cigarettes, potato chips, and bottled water, was a silent force.

I found myself guzzling a bottle of cold water beside her one afternoon as I waited for the rain to stop. My mind had a contagion of hope and fear. She perhaps felt it. In her silence I found an ally.

“Hiramin mo muna ang payong ko. Ibalik mo na lamang bago mag-4 p.m. (You may borrow my umbrella. Just return it before 4 p.m.),” she said. She did not know me but she offered to lend me her umbrella.

“Don’t worry. Your mother will be safe. I will pray for her,” she told me in the vernacular.

It was two days before my mother’s procedure. We had to make a decision between an angioplasty or a coronary artery bypass surgery. If angioplasty, I told Manang Emmie, only 70 percent of my mother’s heart problem will be solved as her arteries already have hardened blockages. That, nevertheless, would bring comfort to her. With bypass, the doctors said they have access to treat 100 percent of her heart problem.

“I will pray so you, your mother and your brothers will arrive at the correct decision,” she said.

With motherly care, Manang Emmie regaled me with her story.

Originally from Cupang, Muntinlupa, Manang Emmie has five daughters who are all married. She lives in San Vicente in Binan with her husband Domingo, a rag vendor. She sets up her wares outside Perpetual at 7:30 a.m., and by 4:30 p.m., her husband picks her up to head home. It’s her daily grind, rain or shine.

“I did not have ambition. Life was hard. I finished Grade 3. When I was 12, I already worked as a house helper. There’s happiness in simple life,” she said.

By the looks of it, Manang Emmie is a fixture in many lives — students, employees, nurses, doctors. Many times she’s seen laughing with them.

The following day, I returned to Manang Emmie. I told her of the decision. It was my mother who made the final decision to have an angioplasty. She knew her body could not recover if bypass surgery were performed on her.

“That’s the correct decision because that’s also the decision of God. We will pray more prayers,” she said as she literally held my hand.

After 19 days, my mother got the discharge order. I returned to Manong Frankie and Manang Emmie. They celebrated with me like they were my relatives.

Miracles happened in the hospital. My mother survived her procedure and is now convalescing well at home. And while my mother was getting healed, I found the kindness of strangers.

Friendship is in the offing among Manong Frankie, Manang Emmie and me.