I was recently diagnosed with lumbar radiculopathy after enduring chronic and severe back pain for about three years already. The long-awaited diagnosis came after a sudden pain flare-up one morning. I woke to a sharp, twisting, stabbing sensation in my mid-back. In agony, I rushed to the nearest public hospital, hailing a jeepney on the highway – bent at a ninety-degree angle, still wearing the pink pajamas from the night before – making my way to the ER.
I was asked a few questions and instructed to head to the OPD on the other side of the hospital. The doctor suggested asking the guard for help, but seeing he was already assisting others, I knew I had to walk alone. I walked stooping, my head almost to the ground and visibly in distress, while other patients and visitors were casting quick glances.

I was given a prescription for pain relievers and muscle relaxers, and a doctor’s request for an MRI. I should get the MRI ASAP, I recall the doctor saying.

I became even more distressed riding the taxi back home. The scans and treatment were urgent and should have been done much earlier, but I simply couldn’t afford them. Now I have to find a way to cover the cost of an MRI, which is around Php10,000, on top of paying for multiple medications related to my mental health diagnoses, consultations, pain relief, a minor surgery, and a TMJ procedure – all within the past two years.

Three days later, I found myself back in the same hospital, queueing for five hours hoping to get a Malasakit grant for an MRI procedure. “Ganito talaga kapag libre”, an old man in crutches I was sitting next to whispered to me.

But no, it is not actually free. The Malasakit Centers Act or Republic Act (RA) 11463 established Malasakit Centers in Department of Health (DOH) hospitals all over the country. These are to serve as avenues for implementing RA11223 or the Universal Health Care Act and essentially where medical, and financial assistance is provided by the Philippine government. Malasakit Centers are funded through the Philippine Health Insurance Corporation (PhilHealth), Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office (PCSO), and the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). All of these are funded by taxpayers’ money, government subsidies, and members’ contributions in the case of PhilHealth.

It was around the time of the controversial PhilHealth’s Php89-billion being returned to the treasury that I was waiting in line and found myself musing. PhilHealth has yet to settle some Php59.6 billion unpaid hospital claims as of March 2025. Then, the Marcos administration has not allotted any subsidy for PhilHealth in the 2025 national budget, citing that the corporation still has reserve funds that it can use. Then in Congressional probes, we find out that there will be partial closure of services and full closure of hospitals as PhilHealth has failed to reimburse these.

The DOH budget for 2025 is Php247.5 billion, a measly 0.53% increase from last year. It is an amount that is reflected in 10-hour long queues; poorly ventilated, dimly lit, and cramped waiting areas; a shortage of hospital beds and wheelchairs; and security guards taking on the role of distributing out queue numbers and managing patients in line.

The old man was called first at around 1pm. Before he goes, he tells me “Kanina pa akong alas-sais rito, buti na lang natawag na”, and limped to the office. I was finally called in by 2 pm. I was told to return to the Malasakit Center for my schedule. I accomplished by 4pm – a grueling 10-hour ordeal for the kind of service no one deserves.

It’s been five weeks since. I’ve completed the scans, which revealed a minor disc bulge in my spine and a strained thoracolumbar region. I was prescribed a new set of medications and six sessions of physical therapy to address the issue. While I felt relieved to finally have a diagnosis and a treatment plan, I still had to figure out how to afford it.

I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by colleagues and friends who respect my resolve to be independent from my financially capable parents as part of my adulting. They help me source support for my health as well assert this basic human right. But this has gotten me into thinking. What about those who live in far-flung areas and have no access to healthcare services? What about the workers who suffer low wages and rising prices, or those who do not have jobs at all? How much harder is it for a son or daughter forced to be the breadwinner to pay for an ongoing kidney dialysis of an ailing father or mother who can no longer work?

Millions of ordinary Filipinos deserve much more than this failing health system. They carry on their backs the burden of government neglect of health services – a pain that, I believe, is more unbearable than my lumbar radiculopathy.