Well, well, well, another blissful day in our idyllic tropical paradise. You’d think living in the Philippines would be all sunshine, beaches and palm trees, wouldn’t you? But no, Mother Nature, in her infinite wisdom, has decided to spice things up with a typhoon named Betty. Oh, you haven’t met Betty? Let me introduce you. She’s the big, angry storm that was supposed to have left our Area of Responsibility (PAR) days ago but decided she likes the view and stuck around. At least, that’s what they’re saying.

I woke up this morning to find my sturdy concrete wall damp from last night’s tantrum Betty threw. Yes, I get it, you’re wet and windy, we’re all very impressed. Now can you please move along?

And as if an unpredictable, lingering typhoon wasn’t enough drama for one week, my niece decided it was time to give birth. And, get this, two weeks early! Adrielle, or Adi as we affectionately call her, was sent to Silay city on May 29th. I found out about this when my son sent me a message, rudely interrupting my nail appointment, might I add. Nothing like a family emergency to ruin a perfectly good manicure.

Adi wasn’t even supposed to give birth until June 15th, but the doctor who examined her thought otherwise. And what was our local health unit’s response? They wouldn’t accept her because it was her “first born”. I mean, come on! Isn’t childbirth exactly what they’re there for? I was under the impression they were a “health unit”, but apparently, they’re more of a “health lottery”.

But fear not, it gets better. The Rural Health Unit (RHU) in Himamaylan, where they were planning to send Adi next, also declined to take her. Because, of course, they did. I mean, who in their right mind would want to help a woman in labor, right? That’s just crazy talk!

But here’s the kicker, the pièce de résistance, if you will. Remember that tiny little discrepancy about how dilated Adi was? The one where the doctor, a trained medical professional whose job is to, oh I don’t know, be ACCURATE, somehow misread a 5cm dilation as a 7cm? Yes, that one. It’s astonishing how such a ‘minor’ miscalculation can completely throw a wrench into the works.

We’re not talking about messing up a coffee order here. This isn’t a ‘whoops, I gave you skim milk instead of whole’ kind of mix-up. This is a woman’s life, a baby’s life, hanging in the balance, and the so-called expert can’t even measure dilation properly? What are they using for measurement, a yardstick?

And you know what the real beauty of this situation is? This little hiccup, this medical faux pas, is what sparked the whole ridiculous chain of events that led us here. The refusal of the local health units, the scrambling to find another hospital, the unnecessary and costly transfer to Silay City. All because of a couple of centimeters. Astonishing, isn’t it?

That, my friends, is the power of precision – or, in this case, the lack thereof. It’s remarkable how a small misstep can cause an enormous ripple effect, especially when it comes to something as critical and time-sensitive as childbirth. Just another day in the life of our top-notch healthcare system. Bravo.

So off to Silay city hospital she went, a place that actually seems to understand the concept of healthcare. Fast forward to today, June 2, and Adi is still in the hospital. As of last night, she’s 9cm dilated. I swear, this baby is taking longer to arrive than a typhoon that’s overstayed its welcome. I mean, how hard can it be? Just push!

So here’s my question: how can small inaccuracies and ridiculous policies create such chaos? How can healthcare institutions simply refuse to provide care because it’s too risky? It’s beyond absurd. It’s high time for a change, wouldn’t you agree? The government needs to step in and do something about this.

But until then, we’re just stuck here. Between a typhoon named Betty and a baby that won’t come out, it’s just another day in paradise. I can hardly wait to see what tomorrow brings.