By Rex Catubig

 

MARILOU from Puelay was a 2^nd year Midwifery graduate of the Urdaneta Community College when she forsook her career because she got pregnant by her boyfriend, Rogelio, who hails from the same place.

She was 21 and he was 26.  Just the right ages to start life together. Rogelio was a barangay kagawad but lost his bid for reelection. To support his family, he worked in his uncle’s scrap business. Marilou was a stay-home mom, and in-between three pregnancies, moonlighted as a promo worker.

Years passed, Rodelio was stricken ill and succumbed to asthma. Widowed at 33, Marilou was left to care for 3 young children—ages 12, 7, and 2. Fortunately, the Barangay knew her school record and hired her as a barangay worker who did home visits.  The city augmented the meager salary by providing a counterpart pay.

Thus, Marilou managed to carry on the burden of single handedly raising the family she was left with. Her eldest boys are now grown up and employed. Dyanara, only girl and the youngest, is a 2^nd year IT student at UPang. She points out that she could not have sent her to college were it not for the city’s scholarship program. “She is Mayor Belen’s scholar”, she proudly notes.

But another setback caught her unawares. In early 2018, she felt a hard lump on her right breast. But it was not until September that year that she consulted a doctor. She was biopsied and learned the dreaded diagnosis—she had cancer. In December, she underwent mastectomy of her right breast–which was performed at the Ilocos Medical Center. Why, is a compelling argument for the Mother and Child City Hospital that’s bogged down in the hard ground of indifference.

After being confined for a week, Marilou came home. But she did not undergo chemotherapy as advised by her doctor. Instead, she reported back to work right away–by force of habit, she said, because she enjoyed her work, and she needed money to live.

Her failure to comply with the medical protocol resulted in a rebound. Before long, the cancer was back, manifesting its malevolence anew in 2023, when her right arm started swelling from the wrist up. And one day, she couldn’t even get up from bed anymore.

Chemotherapy could no longer be dismissed nor postponed. In March 2024, she braved the debilitating oral chemo—5 pills a day for 2 weeks, rest for a week, then repeating it.

Again, she was advised to rest. But the urge to work remains strong; so despite her ailment, she still reports to the barangay, but given light tasks only.

Marilou is truly a poster figure for workaholic Mothers. It may not be the right thing to do, to work even if you’re sick. But working is where she draws her strength from.

What’s remarkable is, despite the ugly ravage of cancer on her body, her pleasant face does not in the least betray any sign of remorse or bitterness. Against all odds, she declared jocosely: “Kahit may sakit ako, ang community pa rin ang iniisip ko”. And she laughed, finding humor in that defiant attitude.

I left her house gripped by a mix of emotions, made dreary by the sky that had turned overcast. As we raced the rain towards my next interview, driver Kevin, as if on cue, switched on the car radio. Out of the blue, this plaintive song blared achingly. It struck me and triggered my tear glands but I was too embarrassed to cry. I composed myself by glancing at the ripples of rain on the fishponds along the highway. I clutched my heart to keep it still. But it sobbed quietly for Marilou.

“When lights go down, I see no reason
For you to cry, we’ve been through this before
In every time, in every season
God knows I’ve tried…
Can’t you see it in my eyes?
That this might be our last goodbye?”

It’s hard to tell. What’s certain is, she will not be forgotten

(Marilou was one of the Agew na Dagupan ‘Uliran ya Ina na Barangay’ awardees)

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