The day I said ‘hi’ to CKD

I'm a talker.
I'm a dancer.
And I am a broadcast journalist.

It was a dull day when I left my beloved province of Iloilo to pursue a life-long dream. A much-coveted dream I did not even know how and where to start.

I was already a TV reporter for the regional station of a big TV network for almost 3 years.
And yet I thought I could be a TV reporter for a national news broadcast.

I was indeed a dreamer.

I started packing my bags, and now here I am. I found my life to be a whole lot of juggling schedules from one interview to another.

For several months I was a police beat reporter, covering crimes, traffic altercations, and sometimes bloody events. I mean, literally bloody events. I saw a young man wounded when I covered one of the most violent demolitions in Metro Manila in 2012, the Silverio Compound demolition in Parañaque.

I was tasting the hardships of a struggling TV reporter. I did not complain because this was it.

This was my dream, bringing the news to the public. After all, this is what our motto is: "Serbisyong Totoo."

I woke up every day with the eagerness to do good, factual, and unbiased reportage.
I enjoyed our live points. You get to test your frame of thought.

And how lucky could I get? I could see my face on TV and hear my name announced by our news pillars.

I'm a proud Kapuso.

I felt I had it all when I covered a storm in Cavite, July of 2012. I loved my crew because they allowed me to do one of my most unforgettable standuppers. Waves would almost eat me up as I did my spiel. There was another when I almost tumbled when strong winds hit my body.

I was a strong, sturdy TV reporter.

And I was proving what I told my boss during the interview:

"Ma'am, I will be an asset to the company."

Little did I know it would all come to a halt. I would have difficulty breathing a few hours before I did my first live report for the day.

I thought it was an asthma attack because of fatigue and sleepless nights covering the monsoon.

Fast forward.

I looked pale.
My hands were almost yellowish.
I had bruises on my left arm.
I was nauseated.
I was cold.
And there was a metallic taste on my tongue.

I was living alone here in Quezon City, so when the doctors asked me to sign a waiver allowing them to do an operation on me, I had to call my papang. His words were reassuring.

After all, I already had an appendectomy operation when I was 13.

So I thought maybe they would just get a vestigial organ inside me that was malfunctioning.

I could hardly open my eyes.

It was cloudy and everything was white. I thought I had given up. Then my colleagues in the news department woke me up through their chants.

I was already on dialysis. It was weird having to see my blood pumping in and out of those lines through a catheter attached to the right side of my neck.

Since that day, I have discovered what it's like to have a chronic kidney disease.

Looking back now, seven months* after I was diagnosed, I believe CKD is not a disease.

It is a condition where one has to accept both kidneys have not been functioning the way they should. It's like a part of a machine that needs to be replaced to make the machine work again.

Since the day I said "hi" to CKD, I said goodbye to my dreams of being a TV reporter.

I can no longer run after big stories like fire, or commotion, or traffic accidents.

I am weak.

I can hardly set foot on the stairs.

And a lot of times, my voice shivers after hemodialysis.

This is my life now.

I always pray for acceptance.

But sometimes, letting go of a dream you've chased for so many years means almost dying inside.

Now I work as a junior desk correspondent in the newsroom.

I'm handling even more difficult tasks because here you do the editorial side of the news. I am checking, double-checking, and triple checking from one information to another.

Saying "hi" to CKD means saying "hello, how are you" to the many patients and nurses as well at the Philippine Kidney Dialysis Foundation on Scout Gandia.

I am lucky I found a center with very accommodating staff and nurses you can trust.

It eases the burden of having a CKD.

Hopefully, in the months and years to come, I can say "hi" to an improved way of life when God allows me to have transplant.

After all, when you read this essay of mine, you might guide me to the person who could give me the gift of an extended good life. — BM, GMA News

*This essay was written in March last year.

This was the winning essay chosen by the University of Santo Tomas Hospital's Center for Kidney Diseases in honor of World Kidney Day on March 14, 2013. Reprinted with the author's permission in recognition of June as National Kidney Month.