Before entering the Child Family Health International (CFHI) program, I viewed health systems through a narrow lens, one shaped by textbooks, urban hospitals, and structured medical training. But thanks to the Friends of the Philippines Scholarship, I was given the opportunity to step outside of that frame and experience the kind of education that no classroom can offer: an immersion into the reality of Philippine healthcare with all its complexities and contradictions. Our first week in Manila laid the foundation for what would become a life-changing experience. Our visit to Dr. Jose Rizal’s monument reminded us that healing and patriotism are intertwined: doctors have long played a role not just in curing diseases, but also in caring for the nation itself. From there, we explored the Carlos Francisco’s four-panel mural, “The Progress of Medicine in the Philippines.” This artwork painted the story of our country’s journey through time, how our roots in faith-based and spiritual healing evolved toward modern medicine, and how colonial history, cultural belief systems, and science continue to coexist, sometimes in harmony, but also sometimes in tension. I learned about the Philippines’ top ranking in the World Risk Index which is a reminder of how geography, poverty, and politics shape our people’s health. We discussed how some rural areas still resist Western medicine and how paradoxes fill our healthcare system: burdened by limited resources and poor implementation of written laws. In Manila, I began to understand that everything is connected, that health is deeply intertwined with structural building blocks, financing, and local governance. I learned that decentralization led to fragmented care resulting to disparities in funding and outcomes. The Philippine General Hospital, although 2–3 hours away from provinces like Cavite, remains the hospital of choice for many. This tells us not only about the centralization of trust, but also about the underdevelopment of rural health systems. I also learned about the determinants of health and saw how health is not just about the delivered services, but also about systems upheld or neglected. Throughout our week-long stay in Manila, we were confronted by difficult truths yet despite all this, we were reminded to remain hopeful because sincerity, equity, and community-centered care are still possible, and still worth fighting for. We then proceeded to travel to San Jose, Romblon, or more commonly known as Carabao Island. The island’s natural beauty was truly breathtaking with its crystal-clear waters, lush landscapes, and kind-hearted people who welcomed us warmly and shared stories with us. In the seminar hosted by the Department of Health entitled, “PuroKalusugan,” I learned that Barangay Health Workers (BHWs) are the lifeblood of the community as they are the first point of contact for healthcare and manage everything from maternal care to public health initiatives. Their unwavering passion and resilience left a lasting mark on me. I also saw the dedication of the Municipal Health Officer and Rural Health Unit (RHU) staff. Some of them wear multiple hats of responsibilities which made me realize that healthcare is not just clinical, it is political, emotional, and deeply human. I then began to understand that being a doctor is not just about treating disease: it is about listening, empowering, and standing in solidarity with the people. I saw how trust in the healthcare system begins with community-centered care and how the presence of sincere and compassionate physicians like Dr. Joel Buenaventura, Dr. Paolo Medina, and Dr. Ian Buluag, can inspire renewed hope and belief in a system that too often overlooks the realities faced by those it aims to serve. This scholarship did not just support my travel and learning, it shifted my perspective entirely. It challenged me to step outside of my comfort zone and confront the complexities of our healthcare system not as an outsider, but as someone who belongs to the very fabric of it. Professionally, it helped me develop a deeper sense of cultural humility, systems thinking, and social accountability. I have come to see that global health is not about sweeping interventions or short-term fixes. It is about building relationships, understanding context, and remaining grounded in empathy. It is about asking the hard questions: Why are things this way? What can we do to change it? How can we help? I have come to see that the foundation of meaningful healthcare lies in recognizing the humanity in every patient. Every Filipino is born into a system shaped by debt, politics, and deep contradictions, yet each person still deserves dignity and quality care. Hope and hopelessness often coexist and it is our duty as future healthcare workers to help tip the balance toward hope through meaningful action, unwavering advocacy, and compassionate service. I am deeply grateful to Child Family Health International and the Friends of the Philippines Scholarship for opening my eyes to these truths. This was more than an immersion: it was a personal reckoning, a reframing of my purpose, and a reminder of why I chose this path in the first place. Because in the end, when life gives you tangerines, sweet, sour, and complex they may be, you do not just eat them. You learn to taste them fully, share them with others, and let their flavor shape the journey ahead. Throughout this program, I found parts of myself I did not know I had lost. In the stories of patients and health workers, I heard echoes of my own family, community, and dreams that first led me to the path of medicine. Standing in places where care is offered with little more than heart and hope, I began to see my identity not just as a student or future doctor, but as someone deeply rooted in the struggles and strength of the Filipino people. These experiences did not just educate me, they moved me in ways I could not even begin to imagine. There were moments of awe and then moments of heartbreak: standing in under-resourced areas, hearing the stories of overworked health workers, and seeing both the brilliance and the brokenness of our systems. Yet I also found hope, in the laughter of the children we met, in the passion of the doctors who choose to stay, in the hospitality of everyone who welcomed us with open arms, and in the small victories that happen quietly with each passing day. This journey peeled back the layers of privilege and perspective, and what was left was something raw, real, and resolute: a clearer sense of who I am, who I want to be, and who I am called to serve. This was my kilometer zero: the point where everything shifted and began. I now carry with me a deeper understanding, a renewed purpose, and a heart forever changed. This experience opened the world to me and allowed the world to transform me in return.
