This is a family story shared and written by Jovie Payusan, a BPE student of Western Mindanao State Univeersity (WMSU), Zamboanga City. Enjoy...
By the first week of November, 2005.I was 11, an elementary graduating student from San Jose Central School, Basilan Province. I have noticed that my father, Lorenzo Payusan who was employed from one of the companies in our province, behaved in different way from his usual behavior. He tend to act oddly things like smiling and talking alone, uttering unpleasant words to my mother and accusing her for having other men. Those behaviors of him made me realized that there was something wrong in him. I shared my observations to my mother and she said that she observed the same thing. At first, only the two of us knew what’s going on with him. We didn't care about it, we were afraid to accept the fact that he was out of his mind.
My two brothers Lorenzo and Jim were staying on my cousins’ house, Maureen. Lorenzo the older one, stops schooling after he graduated his high school while Jim, next to him, was a fourth year high school that time, shocked or should I say they became speechless for a while when I've told them the situation of our father. They hardly believed what I’ve said, “then for you to believe, see him” I said.
As I watched them approaching towards my father, their eyes seemed like the eyes of a child crying for his mother to leave. I thought they were stronger than me, because they were boys but I was wrong. My mother started crying too. I tried to become tough than I could but I can no longer resist it. The tears in my eyes burst while my mind started to rewind all the memories we’ve shared with my father like lying on the floor while my head was on his arm, took care of me when I got sick and etc.
He was my best friend, my companion and most of all my beloved father. And now that man was here in front of me smiling on the air, talking to nobody but nobody’s there. He looks very pathetic on his condition.
I asked “Nganong kami pa man pagkadaghang tawo sa kalibutan nganu kami pa, pobre pa jud.” (Why us, of all the people in the world, why us, we are so poor.)
I keep on praying to the lord to heal my father but nothing had happened. As days passed, my mind started questioning ‘Is there really God?’ why he didn’t do anything to help my father. My father acts violently like shouting outside the house. Some of our neighbors asked’ what happened to your father? Is he insane?’’.Hearing the word insane really breaks my heart, I shouted ‘who cares’’. I cried again.
We brought him to the ‘albularyos’ (quack doctors) but nothing happened rather his condition became worst. With the help of some of my kind-hearted neighbors, they gave us advice that we should asked help to the company where he works. We have received some benefits from the company .We brought him to the Zamboanga Medical Center. We found out that he was suffering from Psychotic Disorder and confined there for one week .When he got home he seemed to be okay, but after a week we can no longer provide him his daily medicine because of financial problem.
Again he started to do things that were unusual for a normal person. That’s why, my two brothers tried to find a job to help provide our needs. It’s like a blessing in disguise when my cousin’s husband a foreman, need two budders on the rubber factory where he works. He automatically recommends my brothers and fortunately they were hired. Both of them earned a salary out of that, and have supported my fathers’ maintenance medicine. The recovery of my father went smoothly and has been cured after a year but sad to say until now he was still in taking his daily medicine in a small dosage.
Nowadays, we are staying with my sister’s house since her husband died a year ago. From that experience I’ve realized that in every problem we may encounter there’s always a solution.Dont blame God for having that problem instead thanks him for sharing it to you, why? Because problems act as a factor for you to fight to become stronger and tough than you ever think. THANKS GOD.WE SURVIVED.
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