The story of Ezio—and why we need to transform our health care system

For Ezio–

a wanderer from Northern Samar,

a dutiful and loving son, a loyal and funny friend, a brilliant writer, a budding director.

How must we honor a friend who has passed on? Words won’t ever be enough. Even if we try with a song or a poem, the beauty and meaning of the friendship could never ever be measured. We could only pause for a minute or two and think about how much we’ve grown from the limited time we’ve had together; and maybe by doing so, we could make peace with the loneliness. 

anna suarin

I met Ezio (not his real name) through one of the scriptwriting workshops hosted and mentored by the acclaimed screenwriter, Ricky Lee.

That year, I made it through the rigorous screening process: 700+ hopefuls but only 70 were taken in (35 for each class). What a nice surprise, I said to myself, considering that I was not even supposed to be there. I was just a ‘tag-along’ for two friends-cum-housemates who have been planning and aspiring for those precious slots—way ahead of that otherwise uneventful weekend. I thought they were better writers than me. And so, I was really wondering why I made it (and my friends didn’t).

Batch 7-A. I was part of the 1st group and we all assume we are Ricky’s “favorite batch.” (If not the 2nd favorite? Another batch was also rumored to be the owner of the crown.)

Whether it was imaginary on our part, it doesn’t really matter. Because what I knew is that our batch was full of cinematic colors—bright or dark, each one of us has a story to tell.

One of us is the son of a former Supreme Court Justice. During those days, the son used to be in my inner circle in the batch. But somewhere along the way, a fierce political climate during the years that will follow (something none of us were prepared for) saw us saying things that weren’t supposed to be said or should have been said in another way. And so, we drifted apart (or rather, did he choose to drift apart?). It was among my life’s biggest lessons. I questioned myself, too.

Differing political beliefs should never make us forget our humanity. But then, life itself has so many layers that it is sometimes impossible to find the right words. This is the dilemma that I face when I try to find the perfect colors for the sky, or the leaves, or the flowers. Because I know that no matter how much we hope for our canvas to reflect the truth, the perfect blue to match the blueness of the sky is not possible. Everything will pale in comparison.

How do we console a friend and honor his pains (contain it in a vessel that only the two of you could access) from how we see things or our world view (another container that only the “I” could access)? I didn’t want to impose what is inside my vessel–but he asked to see it. And what he saw certainly pained him. No matter what I said, it didn’t make a difference anymore. I wanted to grieve with him–from the depth of my being–but he already closed our shared vessel, never to be accessed again.

With each lesson, our soul is being put into the fire; our rough edges being softened.

Ezio and the gifts of his wit and humor

Today, I look back on those years and realize once again how blessed we all are being accompanied in every stage of our journey with different sets of friends—some of whom will eventually leave ahead of us. In the case of my thoughtful, brave, sometimes-eccentric, and wise friend Ezio, gone too early.

This is a beautiful but a bittersweet story of another friendship—raw, unperturbed, unassuming. As different as we are (like day and night), Ezio and I hit it off.

Ezio was not in our batch but because Ricky has mentored and ‘adopted’ many writers, we would later meet him through a batchmate. Later on, even after the completion of the workshop, we would either see each other in Ricky’s house in Quezon City or after-workshop dinner or drinks outside. 

Ricky holds these workshops for the love of it. In 2019, I read that famous actress Bea Alonzo was in that year’s batch of student-writers. In our batch, we didn’t have someone as famous as Bea but we had actor-filmmaker Epy Quizon, two upcoming singers, and future screenwriters in both GMA 7 and ABS-CBN. We also had a passionate health activist among us—no other than Kara Magsanoc-Alikpala who founded ICANSERVE Foundation and whom I count as one of my close friends until now. We still work together on common health-related advocacies.

Ricky opened his heart and home to us—his library was my favorite. There, we could sit on the floor and surround ourselves with rows and rows of books—my favorite thing on earth, aside from siomai, prawns, and hubby’s steamed pampano.

I could not figure out how or when my friendship with Ezio really began. It’s the kind of thing that simply happens and the next thing you know, you’ve got this similarly wandering soul beside you, always ready with his witty jokes and out-of-this world ideas. His world view is fascinating; his humor bordering between nonsensical and philosophical.

One thing I know, I cared for him like a long-lost brother-sister (he is gay but that’s immaterial). I was still single then; in the middle of searching and wandering and playing, deliriously high in the dance of the creative muse inside—waiting for her to fully blossom. I wasn’t really into screenwriting back then but now that I am writing my debut novel, the lessons have become more valuable. The workshop also has a way of showing different pathways to writing.

Nothing in life is coincidental. These workshops and learning opportunities happen in our lives so we could hone our skills and open ourselves to many more possibilities–writing scripts, composing songs and poetry, dancing in the rain, falling in love…This is what the workshop has reminded me. Life is to be lived fully, with all our quirks and imperfections. And then we try to grow more; to become a better individual. That is why I immensely valued meeting and learning from the iconic, Ricky Lee. Most of all, I found Ezio. And he found me, too.

Book 2 of our shared stories

Years passed, I ended up in Cambodia (this is another story). In the last days of 2008, I went back to the Philippines and got married six months later. [Don’t gasp yet, it’s not a rushed marriage, lol. I have been friends with my then-boyfriend-now-husband for more than two years by the time we said our I-do’s.]

At first, I was a little concerned that my hubby might find Ezio to be too much—but I later learned that he would ease into our lives like a favorite shirt. There was no prodding needed. Ezio embodies a certain vibe that one could easily consider him as a kindred brother-friend-confidante rolled into one. He was an interesting story-teller; has the talent for witty jokes; and loves adventures but never overbearing.

One time, he confided that he does not really believe in the concept of God. I didn’t find it odd nor made it as a basis in accepting who he is. Secretly, I even taught that it was only his brainy-self that was saying it. Because no matter how he said it (or believed in it), I still intuit that he embodies the Source’s divinity and his mere existence is already God-source-divine in its multi-fold expressions. Perhaps what he understood (at least in that very moment when we were talking about the existence of God) is that it’s impossible to have a God-presence when there is too much cruelty in this world.

And then he shared how religious his mother is–how she attends Sunday masses without fail or praying the rosary whenever she could. There was nothing judgemental in the way he said it. I sensed just a semblance of sadness or perhaps he was also navigating through his own questions (I could never be sure).

Where is God when there is too much injustice? Did I imagine this question in his eyes? But now that he is already up there where he could see the Light, I am sure that he already found his answers.

Once, I was requested by a close friend to be the emcee of her hubby’s birthday bash. Ezio readily accepted my request to accompany me on stage. No ifs, no buts. I supposed the family and friends of the celebrant loved us. I dare not carry more than my share of the credits. Ok…if you insist, I may have my own set of skills onstage, too (eherm) but Ezio will always be the lead actor. I was to be his willing sidekick. 

That evening, as we laughed through our antics onstage, I felt like the Robin of Batman. We could make this for a living, I thought. 

Our friendship flourished naturally, like the flow of a steady but sometimes playful river. There was never a boring moment with him. We enjoyed discussing and imagining scenes in the scripts that he was working on.

We met up in cafes, sometimes in our or a common friend’s homes (that time, hubby and I were still finding our footing so we moved several times). In some of those homes, he would stay a night or two. We shared a lot of meals together. Once, we met in a fave hangout in Tomas Morato and laughed unabashedly over Ezio’s realization that what he had ordered was a cold noodle soup. (He was quite hungry and was looking forward to a warm meal.) He was forced to eat it and looked outrageously funny—the way he was pondering on and chewing the food in a dramatic way, as if he was being tortured with every bite! 

I’m saying this with the confidence of a child—he is the type of friend that happens only once in a person’s life.

And we will go through and discourse over his scripts, once again, like obsessed critics–into the depth of the night, even as my imagined kindred owls have already gone to bed. Little did I know that those plans will never happen anymore.

One early evening, hubby was waiting for me at home with the horrible news.

At first, I thought it was just a joke. It was surreal. How can that be? I just spoke with him; maybe some two weeks ago. He said he’s already recovered and beginning to work again. He said he’s back in his shared flat somewhere in Fairview. (He went home to his mother’s place in Las Piñas when he first got sick.) I was swimming around, almost drowning, in a sea of questions.

How can he just simply pass on as if he was just a leaf that flew by, never to be seen again?

No, no, no. This is not true. I sat down on the edge of our bed. And then tears started rolling down my cheeks. One salty stream over another. Was that from the river that we once shared?

Ezio is truly gone. 

There was not even a goodbye.

There was not even an evening of a long phone call trying to go through the development of his new character. 

Oh. God. 

Why?

The pain of losing someone dear to us can never ever be described with words. Or tears.

Perhaps it is only through our inner being (at the soul level) could we figure out the sense of loss and grief. Every day will pass, every sunrise will flicker through the clouds, the dogs will bark and the birds will sing—but to us who are left behind, our life is never the same again.

Eventually, we will experience joys again—but there will always be a space for sadness and grief for those who occupied their unique and wonderful places in our hearts.

According to Ezio’s family and our common friends, he indeed recovered for a while but may have started feeling unwell again. Back in his room in Fairview, he eventually closed his world. He stopped calling friends. He said the same thing to all of us—that he’s ok and recovering. That he is writing again.

Like a patch work, we stitched up what we knew and surmised that with his very strong-willed and selfless nature, he didn’t want anyone to worry about him anymore. By then, he must already have finished his savings (he was hospitalized during the first stage of his sickness) and simply decided to give up the fight. Or maybe it was to be his last brave act—for those he loved fiercely.

By the time he called his family for help, it was too late.

He had to be carried by a male relative from his room in the second floor because he could no longer stand nor walk on his own. He refused to be hospitalized (most likely afraid of the financial burden). He passed on peacefully in their home in Las Piñas, the next day (if I remember correctly).

He is a very talented and hardworking writer and budding director. Just like many writers and freelance workers, he has no security of tenure, no medical insurance. Nothing to hold on to.

This is how our health sector is structured. Those who have no security of tenure (but pay the bulk of taxes) could not be guaranteed of decent health care. 

Minsan, naisip ko, mabuti pa ang indigents, may pag-asa na matanggap sa mga hospitals at pwedeng zero out-of-pocket expense (may MAIP guarantee letter pa). [Sometimes, I thought, the indigents are better off because they have hope that they will be admitted in hospitals and then enjoy zero out-of-pocket expense (and will have a MAIP guarantee letter, too)].

What then for the freelancers and taxpayers? They will simply give up. Just like Ezio.

The system is only made for the rich and maybe a portion of the indigents. But many of those in the middle class especially those in the informal economy? They are on their own.

It is true–they are one sickness away from poverty. Or death.

How many more Ezio’s will we lose? How many more trustworthy, loving, and loyal friends are we going to lose? How many more screenwriters, directors, artists, waiters, sellers, tellers, marketing agents, drivers, small entrepreneurs, and messenger-riders are we going to let go of because of a truly sick health care system?

Ezio’s story and how it could help us shape the future

We have built a dysfunctional healthcare system. Surely, there is another way to redo it, even rebuild from ground zero, if need be. We have billions of ayuda funds–but why is it that, suddenly, we don’t have the same amount of money for health care?

I hope this story touches every person who reads it. I hope this is going to be read by decision-makers and policymakers. If you are one of them (or know some of them), please share this so that those who have a seat in the board room will listen to the voice of those who cannot even knock on the door.

I know it may be too difficult to transform the system but I am currently working on a study, which could feed into a possible bill (an amendment of the current Universal Health Care law). The UHC law (RA 11223) is already a step in the right direction but we need to do more.

I hope you could join me in this journey and together we could reform the health care system to become more effective and responsive to the real needs of the Filipino people—including the middle class who bear more of the burden but is often overlooked.

The study is still a work-in-progress but I hope to share a summary of the findings and legislative efforts here so please do visit again.

In the meantime, I hope this serves as a reminder: you deserve a well-lived life and that begins with choosing and voting for the right leaders. Especially, this May 2025, please vote wisely.

Don’t ever forget, you deserve a better life. We may have lost Ezio in this lifetime but his memories will linger and from that, we could do better. Please hug your loved ones today!

---

Mama Earth loves you: This is not a paid post. I do not request for donation to maintain this blog but please make our tribe and Mama Earth happy by planting a tree (or trees!) on your birthday/s!