Alongside acknowledging our most illustrious guests, I also want to honor those who cannot be with us, including our heroic COVID frontliners, our mentors, and those who’ve gone before us. To our residents and fellows, if you have family and friends who are not here with you, but was part of your medical journey, I want you to take a moment and spiritually bring them with you; bring your significant others into this special occasion.
My message for you today is simple: resist three things as you move forward.
First, resist comparison. We live in a world of extreme contrasts, where rich kids can spend P100,000 for a dinner in a Japanese restaurant, but poor mothers cannot spend P100 for their kids’ medicines. We live in a world where powerful politicians have billions of intelligence funds but there is always a shortage of funds when it comes to supporting our children’s intelligence. In the course of my travels, I’ve met crypto millionaires, and heirs to untold fortune, who don’t need to work a single day in their lives, but I’ve also met so many people who cannot afford not to work even for a single day, which is why they can’t go to the clinic, or are lost to follow up.
Closer to home, comparison often defines how we see ourselves and others. You may have felt it in med school, watching high school friends build careers and families while you were still a student. Or during residency, attending weddings or events where your peers seemed to have "more freedom."
In medicine, comparisons are everywhere: publications, H-indices, the number of patients, clinics, awards, recognitions. Even the time it takes to reach a milestone becomes a yardstick for success. Social media only amplifies this, offering polished versions of others' lives and making comparison unavoidable.
But this rests on a flawed assumption: that people can be compared or quantified. How can you compare a year spent caring for a loved one with a year in fellowship abroad? A career in a rural municipality with one in a teaching hospital?
Remember this: comparison is a choice. External judgment only has power if you give it power. You can draw inspiration from others, but don’t let comparisons undermine your confidence.
Having reached this point, you are already among the privileged. Financially and professionally, the worst that can happen to most of you is better than the best that can happen to many others. Embrace the value of your journey, unique and incomparable, just as others' lives are.
By resisting the trap of comparison, you free yourself to find contentment, fulfillment, and true happiness.
Second, resist the inertia of life. Many of you went straight to residency from med school, then into fellowship. Others may have taken detours or entirely different paths. Regardless of your age or timeline, remember: it’s never too late to seek new experiences and embark on new challenges.
In my own journey, I knew I wanted to be a medical anthropologist even before finishing med school. But that decision meant many more years of study and unconventional choices, leading others - and sometimes even myself - to question my path.
The road has been long: seven years to get an MD, another seven for a PhD, and yet another seven to fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a historian by finishing a master’s in the History of Science. Yet every step, every detour, had value. Along the way, I lived in different places - from Mexico City to Bogota, to Amsterdam to Puerto Princesa, each enriching my life and making me a better person.
If you’re hesitant about pursuing something new, remember: you don’t need to feel 100% ready. Sometimes 51% is enough. I’ve climbed almost 200 mountains in the country; probably more than anyone else. But honestly, I’ve often woken up for a hike feeling only 60% motivated—but I go anyway, and I’ve never regretted it.
This applies to your career and your life. If you’ve been dreaming of something—running a marathon, writing a book, pursuing further training, starting an advocacy—take the first step.
One major factor, by the way, is that my parents were very supportive of my decisions, and to the proud parents and loved ones who are with us today: I ask you: Please support our graduates in their plans; give them space, the support to chart their own paths; free them from the weight of expectations. Just as they made your dreams their own, make their dreams yours as well.
Even with your loved ones’ support, it won’t always be easy. There will be rejections, setbacks, delays, along the way. But as Gabriel Garcia Marquez said: “It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old; they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.”
So, graduates, don’t let inertia hold you back. Resist it, and embrace the unknown.
Thirdly and lastly, resist hopelessness. The world can be daunting, filled with crises—political, environmental, and social. In the medical field, we face challenges from corruption to the rise of AI and the threat of future pandemics. At the global stage, it is discomfiting that with a single flick of a finger in your smartphone, you can see images of dogs, and cats alongside images of genocide.
But even in the face of these challenges, we’ve made progress.
When PGH was opened in 1910, life expectancy in the Philippine was just around 35-40 years, but now it’s 71 years for males and 76 years for females.
Also in 1910, there were 150-200 deaths per 1,000 live births, but when I entered med school in 2005 it was 26 and today it’s 17 or 18.
Just a few years ago, we were at the mercy of COVID-19, but thanks to vaccines and revolutionary progress in making revolutionary progress, we are back to a beautiful gathering like this.
Of course, disparities remain. Life expectancy may have risen, but not for everyone. Kian de los Santos only lived to 17, not 71. How we can even talk about clinical practice guidelines for places where hospitals are bombed, or where, closer to home, health activists are red-tagged?
Some things have also not changed much. When PGH was opened in 1910, the average height of Chinese and Japanese males was 5’2-5’3 and now it’s 5’7-5’8. In the Philippines it was also 5’2-5’3, and it’s still 5’4. This is not just genetics alone, but nutrition, quality of life. Hopefully there’s nowhere to go but up but we still have a long way to go.
And yet, change can happen on many levels, and you have a role to play in all of them. Structural reforms are crucial, but so are individual contributions.
Yes, we need streets and communities that are inclusive for people with disabilities and chronic illnesses. But we also need rehabilitation medicine specialists, ENT specialists, and ophthalmologists to help patients regain their quality of life. Likewise, neurologists, geriatric specialists, palliative and hospice care experts, are essential to support our growing elderly population.
Yes, we need UHC. But we also need more physicians in Family and Community Medicine, as well as Internal Medicine, to guide individuals, families, and communities, through their health challenges. We need more oncologists that people can trust so they won't fall prey to those who seek to profit from their struggles.
Yes, we need all kinds of expertise to expand prevent future pandemics, and finally end the burden of TB, malaria, HIV. But we also need IDS to manage each individual case.
Yes, we must ensure safe and healthy childhoods, with more parks and better schools. But we also need pediatricians to treat children, one patient at a time.
Yes, we need reforms to improve occupational health and safety, and yes, Filipinos must learn to swim to prevent drownings. But we also need emergency medicine specialists, toxicologists, general surgeons, orthopedic surgeons, and anesthesiologists to respond when accidents happen.
Yes, we need to advance reproductive rights, promote gender equality, and address teenage pregnancies. But we also need obstetricians, gynecologists, and specialists in adolescent medicine to care for these populations.
Yes, we need to address the structural and social determinants of mental health. But we also need psychiatrists to provide care during personal crises.
Yes, we must build a society where physical appearance is not a basis for judgment. But we also need dermatologists to care for skin conditions and improve patients’ confidence.
Yes, public health is too important to be left to doctors alone. Yes, we must empower nurses, allied health professionals, social scientists, and patients themselves to take leadership in health. But we also need doctors in public health and more specialists across the country, including radiologists, pathologists, and all the other specialties and subspecialties represented here today.
Hold two truths at once: that health is socially determined, yet also deeply personal. The lesson of “Kuwento ni Rosario” is not just there were so many interlocking reasons for her death, but also that there were many points where she could have saved. Each patient you treat, each day you improve their lives, is inherently valuable.
Each of your own life journeys, including the chapter of your lives in PGH, is also inherently valuable. Don't forget to take care of your own happiness, your physical and mental health.
And what I’ve just told you, I believe, is part of this self-care: Resist comparison. Resist inertia. Resist hopelessness. Instead, embrace the uniqueness of your medical journey. Embrace life as an adventure. And lastly, embrace hope! There is so much we still can do for ourselves, our loved ones, for our patients, for our beloved country - and for a world that may yet be redeemed.
