Why I’m willing to share my husband

Ellen Licup-Medina

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'You have a mistress,' I used to tease him. 'And her name is Quezon, Quezon.' The way he speaks of it – with so much passion, with such fervent desire to make things work – is enough to make a woman jealous. For a while, I was.

It is 2 am and I feel a gentle nudging, rousing me awake. Exerting all my effort to open my still sleepy eyes, I see my husband peering at me. “Aalis na ako dear, ha  (I’ll be going, dear)?” he says softly. I sit up and for a second, I wonder what’s going on.

Oh, right. It’s Monday. 

Every Monday, early in the morning, my husband leaves for Quezon, Quezon, the municipality where he has been serving as the Municipal Health Officer (MHO) for the past 5 years. He travels around 5-6 hours by bus to Gumaca, and then takes a one-hour boat ride from there to get to Alabat Island, where Quezon is one of 3 municipalities. From Monday to Friday, he functions as the sole public health physician for a population of more than 20,000 people. He deals with all sorts of patients, from life-and-death emergencies to the not-so-urgent, while managing the municipality’s health programs at the same time. He leads his staff of health workers, including midwives, nurses, and other health professionals. 

For the whole week, he devotes his time, knowledge, skills, and energy just to make sure that the people receive the health care that they rightfully deserve.

And then on Friday nights, he comes home to spend the weekend with me. 

Even the weekend is not completely ours, as he constantly receives calls and texts from his staff, updating him on the status of patients admitted at their rural health unit.

People say that our arrangement is better than most. Many doctors in far-flung areas do not get to go home to their families for months, even years, at a time. At least, they say, we have weekends. And while this is true, there is a certain kind of difficulty that comes with never getting fully used to being apart – my heart breaks a little on a weekly basis.

“You have a mistress,” I used to tease him. “And her name is Quezon, Quezon.” The way he speaks of it – with so much passion, with such fervent desire to make things work – is enough to make a woman jealous.

For a while, I was.

The medical profession

We have been together for 7 years, licensed doctors for 5, and married for almost one. In our early years, I assumed that the more he gave of himself to his work, the less there was left for me. I saw the municipality as an archrival, the enemy who takes him away from me. I kept asking myself why I must always be the one to understand, why I had to give way “for the greater good.”

I feared that his love for me would wane as he shared that love with thousands of other people. I wished I could just keep him for myself and live a quiet life together.

Thank goodness I woke up and saw the truth.

“You’re a hero,” I tell him affectionately. He resents this. My husband does not like referring to his work as heroic or sacrificial. “It’s not about me,” he says all the time.  For him, doctors working at the frontlines are not heroes – they are simply doing what is to be expected from Filipino physicians. The MD at the end of our names is not a ticket to a better life or to great power – it is a reminder of our responsibility, our accountability, to serve the people.

“No matter what, it is always about them. Never about me.” He cringes when people talk to him about his MHO stint as a “good professional move that will propel him to greater heights” because this has never been his intention. He went into the work simply because he wanted to. He knew what he was being called to do when he accepted the position. He is successful in his work, not because he aspires for greatness, but simply because he loves what he does and pours his heart out into it.

He has taught me this – and this is the philosophy I bring with me every single day: I cannot do exactly what he does – but in my own way, I carry with me his principles. Never about me. Always about the people. He helped me to understand that when, at the end of the day, you make yourself more famous than the programs that you helped to establish or the people you claim to serve, then something must be wrong somewhere. Leadership, as he has unwittingly taught me through the way he lives his life, is never about the leader.

On passion

Over the years, I have seen him grow into the kind of man that I am so proud to call mine. He speaks with fervor and passion, with such blatant honesty and openness, that anyone listening to him cannot help but be inspired. He refuses to shine the spotlight on himself and his accomplishments – though he really could do so – but instead refocuses the attention on the real reason why he has chosen to be where he is. His message of hope in and for Philippine health care, despite the difficult realities that we see now, rings loud in the ears of anybody who hears him, students or professionals alike. He is making his voice heard throughout the country and even beyond, making ripples, little by little, one at a time.

How could I have ever thought of holding back this man from the world that sorely  needs to hear his message?

It is high time for more people to hear what he has to say. It is time for him to inspire young hearts and revitalize experienced minds.

I used to resent being called simply “Lopao’s girlfriend” because I thought it made me lose my identity. I wanted to show the world that I was my own person and that I had something to show for it as well. But now I realize that there are times when the best thing we can do is to recognize the strengths we see in others and encourage them as they use that strength to be a blessing to other people.

If my only contribution to the world is to support this man as he initiates the change we want to see, then I shall have fulfilled the best role that I could possibly have. I am one with him in his advocacies in life. “Paolo Medina’s wife” could not have been prouder. 

And my fears have remained unfounded. True love,as I have discovered, can never be divided – it can only be multiplied. Never have I felt unloved in all the years that we have been together, despite the occasional distance and busy schedules. I guess love – real, selfless love – only grows richer over time. – Rappler.com

Ellen Licup-Medina, 29, from Las Piñas City, is currently working as Project Manager of Zuellig Family Foundation. She is a medical doctor by profession.

iSpeak is Rappler’s platform for sharing ideas, sparking discussions, and taking action! Share your iSpeak articles with us: move.ph@rappler.com 

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