Part 2: My Rainy Night at Bacolod Adventist Medical Center

After the rollercoaster that was South Bacolod General Hospital & Medical Center, the STYX ambulance finally whisked us away to Bacolod Adventist Medical Center/Bacolod Sanitarium — the only hospital that, after a city-wide medical ghosting session, agreed to take Ralph in. At this point, you could’ve told me we were being accepted into a haunted infirmary run by ghosts and I would’ve said, “Sure. Bring us in. Do they have chairs?”

We arrived sometime between 8–9 PM, ₱3,000 lighter (that’s how much Styx Ambulance service costs), emotionally bankrupt, but hopeful that maybe, just maybe, we would finally get real medical care.

WELCOME TO BAMC ER, WHERE NOTHING INITIALLY HAPPENS BUT EVERYTHING IS STRESSFUL

They placed Ralph in one of the curtained cubicles — and I admit, the privacy curtain made us feel like VIPs compared to the poor elderly patients stuck outside in wheelchairs like they were waiting for a bus. My heart went out for them, truly.

Enter the petite girl, who seemed to be the designated Messenger of Delays™.

She took notes, interviews, details — then would repeatedly come back with the same message:

“Ma’am, our resident doctor is still upstairs. We don’t know when he can come down.”

Translation:
You’re on your own for now. Please enjoy this complimentary feeling of helplessness.

Meanwhile, Ralph continued screaming in pain every 20 minutes like the hospital’s unofficial alarm system. And me? I was trying not to lose my remaining brain cells.

THE ER WITH NO SIGNAL (BECAUSE WHY NOT?)

For some reason, BAMC’s emergency room exists in a magical dead zone where no mobile signal survives. Not SMART, not Globe, not even the faint “E” signal that usually appears when the universe wants to bully you.

So there I was:

desperately trying to reach Manang Audrie Dimacali for assistance
trying to update my newphew Gilbey Aguirre
trying to look up ortho doctors
trying not to scream with Ralph every time he screamed

…all while holding my phone up to the ceiling like some desperate Wi-Fi-seeking pilgrim.

At this point, hunger, exhaustion, and hopelessness were all competing for attention. I felt like if one more nurse told me “Ma’am, please wait po,” I might levitate.

WHEN HELP FINALLY ARRIVED (THANK YOU, CONNECTIONS!)

Bless Manang Audrie and Gilbey — they were moving heaven and earth on their phones since mine had turned into a decorative paperweight.

Manang Audrie managed to contact the wife of Dr. Gerotchi, the ortho we’d been trying to reach after she highly recommended him and for the lack of other choices as well. Meanwhile, Gilbey was chatting with the ER Manager, sending me screenshots that felt like tiny lifelines.

Eventually, Ralph was rolled out for another X-ray because — plot twist — the previous hospital, that’s you South Bacolod General Hospital & Medical Center, didn’t give us a copy of the first one. Of course.

Then finally… the resident doctor, Dr. Guerrero, descended from wherever he had been hiding (Operating Room, presumably — but at that point, who knows).

He showed Ralph the X-ray on his phone and confirmed: Yes, it’s a fracture. Yes, it needs surgery ASAP. No, they don’t have availability.

Fantastic. Just fantastic!

He explained the options:

Option 1:

Stay in BAMC ER, pay per hour to exist in their curtained cubicle, and pray for an opening in the OR someday.

Option 2:

He puts Ralph in a cast, gives him painkillers so he stops terrifying the entire ER, and sends us home. Then we go see Dr. Gerotchi at MAB (Riverside Medical Arts Building).

We picked Option 2, because I’m not about to pay an hourly rate equivalent to a hotel suite just to watch my husband scream in an ER with zero signal.

THE BILLING SYSTEM THAT TOOK A BREAK

Just when we thought we were done, BAMC’s system decided it was also tired and went offline. All of them said their system was ‘updating’.

Because why should anything be easy?

No system =

pharmacy can’t process
billing can’t calculate
receipts can’t print
no one knows the total bill

So their solution?

“Ma’am, just leave ₱10,000. We’ll compute tomorrow.”

I had officially entered the Twilight Zone. But I left the ₱10,000 because honestly? At that point they could’ve asked for a goat, two chickens, and a magic bean, and I would’ve handed it over.

GETTING HOME AT MIDNIGHT WITH A BROKEN HUSBAND

After the cast was applied (and after Ralph screamed his way through it), I asked Ken to bring Rhaenyra, our truck. It was his first time driving it — and of course, it happens during an emergency, because that’s just our family’s brand now.

We somehow got Ralph into the truck through the rain, made it home past midnight, and thanked every ancestor that Ken decided to stay over.

Dinner was reheated. Stress levels were high. But at least we were home.

Little did we know…

Tomorrow would bring an entirely new disaster.

A big one. A watery one. A “Are we characters in a disaster movie?” one.