This week, I was reminded that courage isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it takes the form of a quiet conversation between people who understand invisible battles. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a steady smile from someone who knows pain intimately but chooses to face each day with grace.
Recently, I met a mother and daughter whose story felt deeply familiar. In their journey, I saw my own struggles reflected back at me. Living with a bleeding disorder, I’ve learned, is about so much more than survival. It’s about seeking answers, preserving dignity, building community, and ultimately, discovering a life filled with meaning and joy.
A hidden legacy
The mother and daughter visited me not just as patients, but as fellow travelers on this journey called life. The daughter, 22, like us, also lives with von Willebrand Disease and Hemophilia A. On top of these already rare conditions, she also has lupus—and possibly a heart condition. Yet, she carries herself with the calm resilience of someone forced to make peace with uncertainty.
When my daughter Star was born in 1998, she began having nosebleeds at just three weeks old. Doctors dismissed my concerns, insisting girls couldn’t have hemophilia. Still, I persisted until we found answers.
In 2006, we traveled to Hong Kong, where both Star and I were finally diagnosed with von Willebrand Disease. Years later, while receiving treatment in Las Vegas, I also learned I had Hemophilia A. Suddenly, all the pieces fit. These weren’t isolated incidents—they were part of a family legacy quietly passed down and misunderstood for generations.
From diagnosis to advocacy
In 2016, I helped found Hemophilia Advocates-Philippines (HAP), alongside other parents and patients who had each spent years searching for support. Our shared stories and fears grew into a nationwide advocacy. Today, our group helps people access free treatment, scholarships, counseling, and livelihood support. Most importantly, we remind each person that they are not alone.
Turning pain into purpose
Access to treatment in the Philippines was once inconsistent and unaffordable for so many. That realization fueled our mission for change.
This journey has never been easy. I’ve lost count of the times my daughter, my older sister, and I have had blood transfusions.
As one of the founders of our patient group, I’ve sat with mothers crying in hospital corridors, gripped by fear—or consoled them over the loss of a child. I’ve listened to fathers struggle to explain the suffering. I’ve met women who didn’t discover their own diagnoses until their children were affected.
But amid these hardships, I’ve witnessed healing that begins the moment someone feels truly seen. Healing flourishes in the presence of faith, family, and community. These are the anchors that see us through each setback.
The lifeline of blood—and hope
If there’s one truth I know for certain, it’s this: none of us can do this alone.
As someone who regularly needs blood transfusions, I understand how precious every bag of donated blood is. It’s more than a medical supply—it’s hope made tangible. Every donor becomes a hero, often without ever knowing whose life they’ve touched.
That’s why, on August 2, HAP, together with the Philippine Red Cross, the Philippine Coast Guard Auxiliary, and the Palawan Tourism Council, will host a blood donation drive at Wanderlust Bed and Breakfast.
If you’re healthy, I encourage you to donate. If you’re on your own health journey or caring for someone who is, I invite you to join us. Because the greatest gift we can offer is not just blood—but solidarity. It’s hope. And sometimes, the most powerful act of love is simply showing up.
