By Buhawi Meneses

Mama was what I call my mother, Rosa Meneses. It wasn’t very long ago when her name rang a bell as part of the telethon on breast cancer awareness staged by ABS-CBN in cooperation wit h the Philippine Breast Cancer Network, a project she co-founded with my father Danny Meneses. That telethon aimed to raise funds for the information drive being instigated by the network in order to combat breast cancer, a disease practically unknown to any of us, until the time when it finally hit my own mother.

I was twenty years old then, unmindful of the cacophony around me. I was the typical happy-go-lucky guy – hanging around, taking my studies lightly, doing extra-curricular stuff more than going to class. But on that particular day in 1996, I felt my world stand still. I came home from school and found my mother crying by the dinner table. I sensed something seriously wrong, so I prodded her to tell her to tell me what it was. When the words breast cancer escaped her lips, I just felt strange. I didn’t know what cancer was, didn’t understand how it worked. All I knew was that she had some kind of illness.

I found out that the doctors had given her a five-year statistical chance of surviving cancer, that was if she would consent to aggressive chemotherapy and radiation. Otherwise, she was told she would only have two years to live.

Alternative medicine

After overcoming the initial jolt about my mother’s illness, the whole family – my dad, my mom, my sister and I – put our heads together and got ourselves acquainted with breast cancer. We studied options on how the cancer could be contained and obliterated, without having my mom go through the horrible side effects of substance therapy and exposure to extremely high levels of radiation. Finally, we agreed upon alternative medicine, where in my mom would have to follow a strict diet regimen and use non-toxic medication in order to tame those aggressive cancer cells.

I offered to stop my schooling, so it was agreed upon that I would take care of my mom during daytime, while my dad and my elder sister Amihan went to work and my younger siblings went to school. Anyway, ever since I was little, my mom and I had been inseparable, and I was always the one whom she could rely on to run errands for her. So I didn’t mind the set –up at all.

Mama’s nurse

Keeping Mama on her regimen to make her well became our priority, and I was glad I played a major role in her therapy. I stayed with her all day, preparing her food, administering her medications, attending to everything she needed and going with her wherever   she needed to go. Aside from taking the role of being my mother’s caretaker, I also took on the responsibility of taking  charge of my two younger sisters, preparing them for school, taking them there in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon.

This was my routine, day in and day out.  My enthusiasm was fueled by a film, I saw, Lorenzo’s Oil, about a little boy who had a debilitating disease whose parents’ persistence led to the discovery of an extraordinary substance that could prevent triggering his illness.

Reality bites

Sometimes though, there were days which got really tough. I’d see my mom grimacing in pain because of her condition. It felt as if I was in agony myself. Though I never let it show, there were times when I’d watch over her and just cry. I felt totally helpless whenever she was in pain, whenever I tried to soothe her discomfort with a special oil and I feel the hard mass of cancer cells protruding from her skin. I could only imagine how much pain those lumps causing her!

It was a good thing I became part of a band called Parokya ni Edgar. Becoming the bassist fro the group came as a blessing in the most appropriate time. Don’t get me wrong. Being with my mom was the best thing I ever did. However, the band was something I looked forward to before the day ended, just so I could get my mind off the situation at home. Besides, I was able to earn a living while I played with the band.

Keeping it to myself

But then, I just couldn’t bring my domestic concerns with me to band practice. None of my bandmates knew what the situation at home was. I kept everything to myself.  When were together, they never saw Buwi the caregiver. To them, I was Buwi the funny, energetic, and passionate bass player. Sometimes, when we were alone in my mom’s room, she’d ask me if I was getting tired of taking care of her. And every time,, I assured her that I would never grow tired and weary o f being her very own, “private nurse”. She never fussed about been sick, but there were times when I had to push her to eat her food, or chide her that she would overcome the disease and the pain and that she shouldn’t throw in the towel just yet.

Climb against the odds

Although my family had been caring for my mom for the past four years, what radically changed my life was when we joined the group of American Andrea Martin, founder and executive director to The Breast Cancer Fund, in their Climb Against The Odds! Mt. Fuji 2000. This time, it was just me and Mama. We left for Japan on August 17, 2000. For both of us, the climb was the ultimate high.

In spite of the physical weakness she was experiencing prior to the trip, her spirits were exceptionally high. She was determined to make the climb. But then, circumstance didn’t allow her to go all the way to the top. She was able to reach the 5th station of Mt Fiji though. Together with the team, I continued the climb and was able to fix the Philippine flag at the summit. But more than the thought that my mom and I had conquered Mt. Fuji on behalf of the other Filipino women with breast cancer, what really overwhelmed me was the feeling that I was with people – husbands, daughters, and sons of women with breast cancer – were individuals who I could talk to about how I felt, without me fearing that hey would not understand. There were people who were able to affirm me on what I was doing my mom. At that particular moment, I knew in my heart that I had chosen the right thing of devoting all my life to my mother.

The Final mile

Eventually, my mom came to the final lap race. One day, I chanced upon my parents holding hands, talking in whispers about how my mom was feeling exhausted, that she wanted to rest, I was so outraged that I couldn’t help but to ask, “Is this it?” Are you just giving up?” My mom looked at m e straight in the eyes, and I saw in hers that was ready to go. I felt so angry that just let the tears fall. It wasn’t long before the whole family was huddled together, our teas mingling, signifying the emotions we all shared that particular moment.

September 22, Friday, Papa and I were getting ready to got to the telethon at ABS-CBN. We were supposed to tag my two younger sisters along, but my mom requested that we leave them behind so they could watch the program on TV together. My sister Ami joined them a little later. In the wee hours of the morning, after the telethon, Papa and I went home, exhausted but somehow feeling accomplished that the breast cancer awareness campaign was finally in full swing we were having our late dinner when my sister Ami rushed out to the room and called us in. And we knew, Mama had chosen that moment, when my three sisters were all at her bedside, when the telethon was finally over, to draw her final breath.

Creative pain

The pain of losing my mother will always be etched in my heart. But then, I cannot let that pain eat me up. Instead, I’m using that pain to channel my energy into something worthwhile, like the Philippine Breast Cancer Network and the Rosa F. Meneses Foundation. Through these institutions, I want to be able to reach out for children, spouses and relatives of cancer patients and tell them that they are not alone in facing this great change and challenge in their young lives.

Salamat sa Kerygma