Last February, I was fortunate enough to find a copy of 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥 by Arturo B. Rotor at a branch of Merriam Bookstore. The book has long been out of print from Ateneo de Manila University Press. Much of Rotor’s work offers a portrait of the Philippine healthcare system. First published in 1983, the stories continue to resonate today—some things have changed, but many remain the same.
Now in 2025, with the publication of 𝘝𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴: 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, edited by Dr. Ronnie Baticulon and Ma’am Marjorie Evasco and released by Milflores Publishing, Inc., these shifts and continuities are once again documented—this time through the lens of a diverse literary collection. The book reflects both the progress and persistent struggles in Philippine healthcare, telling these stories through fiction rooted in lived experience.
Featured on the book’s cover is Carlos “Botong” Francisco’s 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 (1953), which depicts a babaylan treating the sick. The painting unfolds in four panels, tracing the history of healing in the country—from Pre-colonial times, through the Spanish and American eras, to the present. Once displayed at the Philippine General Hospital, University of the Philippines Manila, the piece now resides at the National Museum of Fine Arts. Even the cover alone signals what lies ahead in the book: a reflection of the evolving yet uneven medical practice in the Philippines.
The anthology is divided into three sections: 𝘋𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, and 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺. What I appreciated most is how the personal experiences of doctors, patients, and caregivers are used to portray the face of healthcare in a community, and, by extension, the nation as a whole.
In 𝘋𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴, the stories bring to life the quiet dilemmas physicians face. Though doctors are often expected to remain impersonal, the stories allow readers a glimpse into what they carry inside—the grief, the helplessness, the quiet sorrow they must suppress. How does one break the news that blindness is permanent? Or that nothing more can be done?
The 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 section shifts the focus to those receiving care. We encounter questions that dig deep: Are companies biased against women who go on maternity leave? How does a family cope with a cancer diagnosis? What emotional toll does death take on those left behind? Is belief in superstition harmful, or might it offer a form of comfort when nothing else does?
In 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, the final section, we hear the stories of those who care for the sick. They are the ones beside us when illness strikes. The stories explore how society perceives those with mental health conditions, and how beliefs like faith healing still hold sway in some communities.
Beyond the quality of the stories themselves, another highlight of the anthology is its inclusion of works written in Filipino and Binisaya, with English translations provided. Some of these stories delve into superstition and belief systems, showing not just how they might be challenged, but also why they persist.
Overall, 𝘝𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴 accomplishes what it sets out to do. While the country’s healthcare system has made strides, many old problems remain, especially in remote areas, but even in the cities: lack of access to medical care, the high cost of medicine, and the persistent inequalities in who gets to live with dignity and health. There is still so much left untold about our healthcare system. But this collection is a strong start. It encourages all of us—whether we’re in the medical field or not—to read, share, or write stories on this vital topic. It also challenges us to keep advocating for universal healthcare for all Filipinos.
𝗣.𝗦.
I chose not to name a favorite story because, frankly, it’s too hard to pick just one (the selection is that good). I just hope this short review is enough to convince you to grab a copy for yourself.