A Jar Full of Wrist Tags

The first time I heard her story, she showed a jar full of hospital wrist tags. All hers. One for every hospital admission. This struck me because I could actually count all the hospital wrist tags I had: three. Two for giving birth and one for a severe allergic reaction. Hers? A lot. Most of them are pink, and on each of them, “Nikka Sarcauga” and “December 2, 1992” are written, her name and date of birth.

Wrist tags help healthcare workers identify a person as confined to the hospital or needing medical attention. But to Nikka, the purpose of these wrist tags is to remind her of the Giver and Sustainer of her life.

Bananas in Pajamas  

Since I have mentioned Nikka is dealing with some kind of sickness, you probably picture her looking sullen and pale. Yeah, she looked pale but never sullen. She seemed so fragile but when you talk to her, you will eventually perceive a resolute strength within her. Because of her petite structure, she looked like a grade-schooler when in fact, she is already 30. I have always thought she is in her 20s and that she stopped aging at some point. She has a wide, boxy smile, a squeaky voice, and quippy humor. 

Nikka is a dear friend who I call B2 while she calls me B1, referencing a 90s show’s titular characters who are two Bananas wearing pajamas. These characters would bump their heads and produce a “boing” sound whenever they have an idea, and that’s when they would say their catchphrase:

B2:  Naiisip mo ba ang naiisip ko B1? (Are you thinking what I’m thinking, B1?)

B1: Sa palagay ko nga B2! (I think I am, B2!)

Both: It’s [bananas ideas] Time!

We call each other those nicknames because we seem to always be thinking of the same thing. But in reality, I talk to her whenever I needed to think like how she thinks.

When Capping Means the Beginning and the  End  

The year was 2010. In previous years, nurses were in demand outside of the country. In fact, some universities have used up all of the English alphabet to stand for sections available to nursing students. Nikka’s sister is one of those who took the chance of being a nurse abroad, and she succeeded. To follow her sister’s and all the other family members’ steps, Nikka took nursing. 

In their second year, Nikka’s batch had a capping ceremony. According to “Exploring Rituals of Nursing” by Zane Wolf, capping is a solemn occasion when finally, the students get to wear their nursing cap as a symbol that the student is closer to the goal of being a professional nurse. But it was on this occasion that Nikka found out she can no longer pursue nursing.

“I was already in my second year. It was university week in La Salle (Bacolod) so everything was hectic. I remember I could barely eat and if I did, I just threw up whatever I consumed. I was so thin that my classmates teased me that I look more like a nursery student than a nursing student. At the end of the U-week, we had a capping event. It was actually the first and last time I used my cap.”

Injections and All Things Painful

Nikka recounted that at the time, she had to be taken to the emergency room because of her worsening condition and had to be scheduled for an operation. All the symptoms pointed to appendicitis.  

“They put me in anesthesia. When I opened my eyes, I saw Daddy first and asked him what happened. I expected the worst, like maybe I had cancer. But I was informed that nothing has been done yet because when I was put to sleep, they saw there was a big lump in my tummy and they thought more tests were necessary to confirm what it was. The doctors proceeded with a CT Scan and decided they needed to perform an exploratory laparotomy to see what’s inside me. It’s when they found out that my intestines are sticking together like cheese. The diagnosis was intestinal tuberculosis.” 

Unlike the usual medication of the most common TB here in the Philippines, Nikka had to undergo neither 6 months, nor 12, and nope, not even 24 months— but 33 months of medication. And the treatment involved injections every day. 

During the interview, I thought that she would not be able to give me details, as it was several years ago. But recall she did. Probably because she has repeated this to so many people, or that she had to retell it when examined by a new physician. But she remembered everything like it just happened yesterday. I guess, that’s the thing about pain… It is stubbornly unforgettable.

Starbucks and Other Things We Cannot Afford (To Do)

 “In 2011”, she continued “my hair was falling off and I had persistent rashes so we went to a derma clinic. While waiting for our turn, one of Tito’s friends who happened to be a doctor asked me why I was there. I told him of all the signs and symptoms I am experiencing. He said it seemed like Lupus. So we checked. It is indeed Systemic Lupus.” 

After learning about her lupus, she also learned all the limitations that go with the sickness. Apparently, when you have systemic lupus, you are sensitive to the sun or light, so you will be prohibited from going out.  Your immune system gets all messed up, so you are discouraged from meeting a lot of people.  Muscular and joint pains will be a frequent occurrence, so you are not allowed to do physically demanding tasks.

But she chose a path that requires her to go out, meet people, and sometimes perform physically demanding tasks. Nikka volunteered to be a missionary in a local church. This is where our paths crossed. I was volunteering for the marginalized children in the community while she reached out to the English-speaking-Starbucks-going-Colasas. Because really, in the ministry of Christ, everyone is welcome, whether you can afford Starbucks or not.  

Worshipping in the Key of Loud  

“Could you elaborate on your role as a missionary?” I inquired of Nikka.

“I served as a campus missionary,” she responded with a hint of enthusiasm. “We go to different schools (and share the gospel). But I was assigned to make the lesson plans for the campus and for the camps. Eventually, I was assigned to schools that are considered ‘Sosyal’,” she chuckled as she emphasized the term with an accent. “I forgot to mention, I was also part of the worship team!” We both laughed.

I’m sorry I need to explain why that was funny. I will let you in on an inside joke. We don’t really have good singing voices (or even speaking voices). And our worship team is known to have high standards in choosing singers and instrumentalists. That is the reason why we were both on the welcoming committee.

“Maybe you can be a good worship leader,” she told me. “Because when I see you singing, I feel like praising the Lord.”

It’s actually because I worship in the key of loud. Hahaha. 

“I won’t be. Because honestly, if I will be put at the center, I will have the temptation to please. And it will rob me of my joy.” 

That’s what I said, but really, I wanted to tell her, maybe she should be the one in the worship team because when I see her—simply living—I feel like praising the Lord.

I guess, she also worships in the key of loud. 

Not Really a Damsel in Distress

“What was it like, being a missionary while dealing with Lupus?” I asked curiously.

 “I was really passionate to join the mission and be part of the vision of reaching out to the campuses for Christ. But I was also struggling physically. Partly, the reason why I was assigned to ‘sosyal’ schools was because I could meet them at more comfortable places. However, there are times when I heard other volunteers talking about going to a certain public campus. And I would chime in and ask if I could join them. It’s usually humid and could be exhausting, but I went anyway. Needless to say, I had somehow compromised my health. During those moments, I remember thinking, I don’t care about my health as long as I’m doing something that I am passionate about.” 

 “In hindsight, I think the Lord was teaching me to acknowledge the things I could do and also embrace the things I could not do. I was not listening well because I was fighting battles I was not supposed to fight. Deep inside, there was a desire to be a hero.” 

Some Kind of Lechon

After dedicating two years to volunteering, Nikka’s health remained unyielding and showed no improvement. Battling bouts of nausea, she would excuse herself from meetings and visit the restroom.  I recalled, in a camp, she had to be carried piggyback style by her mentor, Micah, as we hiked toward our site(How strong Micah is deserves another story). And there’s another instance when Nikka was cradled in the arms by another church member so that Nikka can be transported to the hospital. This was when her family decided they would go to the Philippine General Hospital (PGH) in Manila to seek yet another treatment. 

Do you remember all the things we hated during the pandemic? The simple test to check if we are Covid positive or negative was annoyingly painful. The fourteen days of quarantine felt like an eternity spent in the confines of a room. We grappled with fever, body aches, cough, and colds. On top of that, we cannot smell or taste anything.

That was Nikka’s experience in PGH except that, 14 days is stretched to three months. There were bouts of pain all over her body, particularly her gut. On top of that, she is not able to taste and definitely not eat anything during her stay in PGH. The only source of nutrition she has was through a tube. When I visited Nikka, her Dad joked that she should imagine the bag of fluid being IV’d to her as a serving of lechon, because it costs the same. So it’s “lechon” every day for nearly three months. 

Where is God When It Hurts

The thing is, I cannot fully describe the pain Nikka has undergone and I would not dare claim that I understand it, so instead of writing about it, I asked Nikka if she can share some of her reflections from her journal during that time. 

Here, in her own words, Nikka vividly describes her transformative journey during her stay in the Philippine General Hospital:

March 28, 2018

Today, I cried out to God when the sun was about to rise. I woke up, cried, and told God that I feel hopeless…seeing that hole (in my intestines) is still there, my hope shattered, and I’m hungry and I’m tired. I feel like I can’t take one more test or pain. I asked God to help me with my unbelief and with my loss of hope. I have a lot of things ready to preach myself. But at that moment, I felt like I just wanted to be weak before God. To tell Him how I really feel without everything that I tell myself regarding His promises and His Word. I cried before Him… just the raw me. I asked Him to comfort me with these things that I feel.

And later today, I fell in tears again…with how God still showed His faithfulness and comfort. It was again an experience of crying in awe and worship of how comforting His presence is and how faithful He remains to be. Indeed when I am weak, I am strong…because He is my strength and His power is made perfect in my weakness. Because I allowed myself to be weak before Him, I experienced His comfort and I had the opportunity to worship Him on how He answers my cries and prayers.

Two Months after Staying in PGH

A little over two months ago, I stepped into this hospital with full hope that this will finally be God’s time to heal me. I held on to His promises for a bright future ahead, firmly believing that before I came here, He gave me His dream for my life and that this healing will be His way to fulfill it. Days and weeks passed…there were moments when there was so much pain, hunger, sorrow, discomforts, emotional circuses, and moments when I felt alright..and worst, there are moments when what it takes to heal me seemed more painful than the actual pain caused by my disease…but every day, there was something that felt the same–waiting on God on this bed, watching the same view from the window.

For a long time, I held on to that hope until the news came….that they seemed to be running out of options.

I don’t even know if the word great could fully describe how great God is..but right now in my little and frail mind, I could only think of two reasons why God chose to give me a condition that seems impossible to be solved. One is that He may want to show that He alone can heal me through a miracle. And the other, that He might have really willed that I live my whole life with this sickness for purposes that I may not or never understand nor fathom.

Praying with mere words now seems to be difficult. But I know God understands my groans. And He understands that though my faith is so little and my hope is going shaky, right now, I could feel in me that there’s one thing that He firmed in my life through all of these: that the comfort that I felt on the thought that God would heal me is now the same with the comfort that I feel that EVEN IF He chose that I will never be healed, I can imagine my life forever surrendering and relying on His sustaining grace that would give me strength and renew me day by day. Just enough for one day… then I will look to Him the next…One day at a time.

I remember praying and thinking about manna when I felt so hungry. My first thought of it was the raining food…but now I realize God did answer my prayers. He gives me my everyday manna. Just enough to get me through the day…so I would look to Him, depend on Him completely and enjoy His Presence rather than His presents.

May 3, 2018, Mommy’s Point of View

During my interview with Nikka, she asked if she can go to the CR, this was the time Mommy (Nikka’s friends call her parents, daddy and mommy as well) shared about her unforgettable moment in PGH. 

“Has she told you yet? I went hysterical on our last day at the hospital. A week or two before we are to be discharged, Nikka is already able to eat. She eats vegetables every meal. She looked fine. She felt fine. So we signed the waiver. We booked a hotel to stay for the last night. Our plane tickets are ready. But Nikka felt ill, and the attending physician informed us that we need to repeat the whole process. That’s when I went wild. We are already 3 months in the hospital! Our bill is almost a million! And in our hearts, we are ready to go home! So, at that moment, the three of us wept together in that hospital room. It was my birthday.” 

The Masks That We Wear

People are required to put on a literal facemask when talking to Nikka, but I have always felt like I need not put on a figurative mask when conversing with her. With Nikka, despite the facemask, I always find myself unreservedly unmasked.   

“What are your thoughts about masks?” I asked.

“I used to put on a literal mask for my own protection,” she said. “But aside from that, I also used to put on an invisible mask. It’s when I tell people that I’m okay but I was in fact, in so much pain. Later on, I realized that I need not cover-up. It’s okay to admit that I’m not okay. That I’m hurting. And I cannot take it anymore.” 

“Maybe, the reason I put on that mask of being okay  is because when I search deep within my heart, I also feel motivated by the compliments like ‘You are so strong!’ and  ‘Even if you are struggling with your sickness,  you are still positive and is still serving the Lord!’ While my relationship with the Lord becomes deeper, I feel uncomfortable with the compliments. I know it’s meant for good, but I realized that my story should not be about how strong I am but about how good God is.”

 “In one of our Friday Fellowships, I was feeling rather unwell, so I settled in the corner. One of my friends, Lanie, accompanied me, and while we were talking, I threw up. She asked if I was okay, and I confessed I’m not. I cannot forget what she told me afterward, that in spite of us being friends for a long time, it was the first time she heard me admitting I was not okay. It was actually freeing.” 

Salt and Light of the City 

I wish I can tell you that Nikka is now fully recovered, with the love of her life, and is living her happily ever after. End of the book.  Instead, there are still chapters unknown.

Through her stay in PGH, Nikka’s family confirmed that she has Lupus. They also learned that she is cleared of TB. Finally, her intestines have holes in them, and that there is really no cure for it.

By now, you already know that Nikka is a skilled writer. What I haven’t told you is that before volunteering, she went back to school and pursued Mass Communications. This deliberate choice equipped her with a diverse skill set encompassing scriptwriting, editing, and production. Today, she maximizes all her skills to combine them with what she is most passionate about—sharing God and His goodness.

In their home, there is an impressive set-up for a radio station that broadcasts throughout their city for 16 hours every day. Her dad made sure to show it to me at the time of the interview. He has the proud dad look while explaining to me how Nikka manages the whole thing.   

Nikka writes the spiels, arranges the songs/sermons, and Daddy sings the closing song (because you know, we don’t have good singing voices).

It’s called Perfect Love Radio. It’s a non-profit, non-commercial, for community, Christian radio broadcast station. The frequency is 107.3 FM. You can also listen to the broadcast from this site  https://plovebroadcast.caster.fm/ Here’s the description for the station: 

Perfect Love Radio is a Christian Radio Station that seeks to spread–through Word and music– the Good News of Salvation by the grace and love of Christ Jesus our Only Lord and Savior, the Perfecter of our faith. The station’s frequency 107.3 stands for: 1= One God Almighty; 0= in the beginning; 3= Three Persons- Father, Son (Jesus), and Holy Spirit; 7= The Perfect One. Thus, giving praise, honor, and glory to the One God Almighty in three Divine Persons, who from the beginning is the Giver and Source of Perfect Love. 

So where is God when it hurts? If you are listening well, you will realize that God is here…perfectly loving us. 

Sunrise and Sunsets

I had the privilege of visiting Nikka on two separate occasions during her stay at the Philippine General Hospital. We are both from Negros, so visiting her is not something that our friends can easily do. I was just fortunate to have work-related-training in Manila during those times.

We talked about a lot of things. We quipped about how apt the sign is in her room “Patient is at risk of falling.” We giggled as we agreed that the patient is “at risk na ma-fall(in love)”. She then told me that among the numerous doctors attending her, there was a cute one. She wondered if he was married, and I suggested she checks his ring finger next time. Lastly, we talked about her most favorite thing in the room: the window. 

Her window was facing east. So on her side, she gets to see the sunrise, but she is not able to see the sunset. Every afternoon, she saw the sunset reflected by a tall glass building adjacent to her view. The sunset was beautiful. How she wished she could see the sunset directly. Sometimes, she thought to herself “It must be good on the other side. On the sunset side of the building.” Being someone who has always been sick, she thought “It must be good on the other side. To be on the healthy side. They can do whatever they want.” 

But every morning, before sunrise, she wakes up. It’s quiet. Serene. Peaceful.  And eventually, she begins to realize that the sunrise was beautiful too. That there is beauty on the side she is on. 

“God reminded me that our date is every sunrise,” she expressed.  

When I met Nikka for this interview, it was around 2 PM on a humid Saturday. The interview lasted for more than three hours, mostly because I was too excited to talk to her. When I got out of her house, it was almost sunset. I actually love sunrise more. But at that moment, I thought, the sunset is beautiful too. 

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This story is an entry to COMCO Mundo’s “UNMASKED: The COMCO Mundo Write to Ignite Season 3”.  The initiative aims to pull and collate powerful stories from the Philippine blogging communities. “UNMASKED” aims to explore how each mask is a person brimming with hope and wonders to share with others, as well as why it is important to tell their inspiring journeys in life. The “Write to Ignite” Season 3 is made possible by COMCO Mundo League of Enterprises, with airasia, Babyflo, PHILUSA Corporation, Century Tuna, Licealiz, Lamoiyan Corporation, Rémy Martin, and Uratex Monoblock as brand partners.