IT WAS 45 YEARS AGO….BUT MYTEARS STAY…!

The Bohol Tribune

10 months ago

PIT SENYOR! (A true story)

IT WAS 45 YEARS AGO…. BUT MY
TEARS STAY…!
by ardy araneta-batoy

“I danced unabatedly with syncopated
steps and strongly with inexplicable
choreography but did all these solemnly
as I was inspired by the beat of gongs –
as if there were no tomorrows, unmindful
of the beat of jeers and other songs
putting my best into my heart making
sure I would not fall apart!”

At the tender age of 2 months old, 45
years ago, my younger son was
diagnosed to have an immovable cyst in
his left nipple. For boys and men, it was
not a good sign, according to a friend!

This news glued my knees to our little
altar at home. I kept on refusing to

accept the information. I encouraged
myself with the hope that, maybe, the
next minute, the cyst would be gone.
Yes, it should be gone!

We went to the doctor again and the cyst
became bigger. I wanted a second
opinion. So, the next available trip from
Tagbilaran to Cebu saw me and my
family bringing my son to a Cebu City
Hospital – one of the best in the region.
Their doctors said, “Your son has to be
operated on!”

It was like a bomb exploding in my heart.
The doctors were firm with their decision
to remove the cyst. There was nothing
best to be done but to remove the cyst,
according to them. They were
specialists. I was an English Major; and,
yes, indeed, what could Shakespeare
and Milton and the rules of grammar do
with their decision? But my minor,

Mathematics, gave me the quick skill to
compute the expenses and calculate the
schedule of the operation.

The doctors said, the operation had to
be done a few months later, to allow my
son to gain more flesh and strength and
what not! After that visit, we were told to
return to the clinic regularly for
examination.

At that moment, I recalled what my
mother once told me, “Motherhood is
one of the greatest miracles God has
given to women! You, yourself, can be a
miracle!”

Carrying my son in my arms, I hugged
him tightly and assured him: “You will not
be operated on, Gerrymar, because
Mommy’s here!” With tears rolling down
my face (just like now), I sang to him his
favorite lullaby that caused him to be

awakened from his sleep. When he
looked at me, I wanted to ask him,
“Anak, where will Mommy get the power
of healing?”… Is this what Jose Garcia
Villa meant when he wrote: “Life should
triumph over Love?”

I walked out of the doctor’s clinic hating
the charts and the thermometers and l
gasping for breath as I seemed
suffocated by the dampness of the
thought of an operating room and all
those scary gadgets hanging from one
area to another.

I was on that operating table during my
first delivery through cesarean section to
let Chandymar, my first baby – out! But I
was an adult, then! Gerrymar was only
TWO MONTHS OLD… 45 years ago!

On our way to the pier, from the Cebu
hospital, I became detached from the

world. With Gerrymar closely held to my
heart, I talked to my Lord. I had several
versions of my conversation with HIM. I
got angry! Praised! Blamed! Resolved!
Hated! Affirmed! Yearned!… and, finally,
I PLEADED VERY STRONGLY: “Oh
God, please spare my son, from any
harm!”

Suddenly, our taxi ride from the hospital
to the pier (to catch the boat for Bohol),
was interrupted by the rhythm of gongs –
beating loudly, very loudly – as if trying to
carry my thoughts away from the
solitude of pain and uncertainty to
somewhere that was beautiful and
hopeful. The rhythm was like a group of
verses of iambic pentameter beckoning
me to stop and step out of the car and
dance to the music of life. I told the
driver to stop. We all stopped! And
without any hesitation, I alighted from the
car and danced to the rhythm of the

gongs – on the street – at the foot of the
STO. NIÑO CHURCH in Cebu City:
WITH A CANDLE ON ONE HAND AND
GERRYMAR, MY SON, ON THE
OTHER.

“Yes, I danced unabatedly with
syncopated steps and strongly with
inexplicable choreography but did all
these solemnly as I was inspired by the
beat of gongs – as if there were no
tomorrows, unmindful of the beat of jeers
and other songs putting my best into my
heart making sure I would not fall apart!
I was inspired by the SOURCE of the
steps and the beat of those gongs – from
UP ABOVE!”

I saw varied dancers: in tears, in
jubilation and in beautiful movements …
but I WAS VERY CONSISTENT WITH
MY “DANCE” WITHOUT ANY DOUBT –

that SEÑOR STO NIÑO will spare my
son, Gerrymar, from any harm.

The silence of our boat ride to Bohol,
was, every now and then, perturbed by
the sound of the boat engine and NOT
by my anxiety over the doctors’
pronouncement a few hours ago. And I
made a commitment to myself: to
continue my “dancing for my son!

The doctors gave us one specific
instruction: not anymore to touch the
cyst. Only they should do it. I
followed them to the letter. And the 7th
month came-for the doctors to
give the exact day of the operation. I
never ceased “dancing”.

We were in that Cebu hospital again.
Ang I continued to “dance”. My son was
on the examination table. My thoughts
were all occupied by my “dancing”. The

doctor’s hands touched my son’s left
nipple. I raised my “dance steps” to the
Lord.

The doctor looked at me. I looked at HiM
up ABOVE!

The doctor touched again the nipple . . .
and would glance at me once in a while .
. . . and would look at my son. As the
doctor did these movements, I became
stronger and more resolute in my
“dance” for HIM, UP ABOVE!

And the doctor said, “It’s gone! The cyst
is gone.”

After hearing the doctor’s declaration,
right there in the clinic, with my son in
my arms, close to my heart, “I danced
unabatedly with syncopated steps and
strongly with inexplicable choreography
but did all these solemnly as I was

inspired by the beat of gongs – as if
there were no tomorrows, unmindful of
the beat of jeers and other songs putting
my best into my heart making sure I
would not fall apart!”

And I did not fall apart! I will never fell
apart and would never fall apart with the
STO NIÑO in my “dance”.

This is the reason that today, I do not get
tired, even if I “dance” the whole day,
with my dear apo-Cedric Jaylen (CJ)
beside me. He is a strong proof that his
dad, Gerrymar, was spared from any
ham, 45 years ago, by SEÑOR STO.
NINO… PIT SENYOR!

I am sure, too, that Señor Sto. Nino has
been responsible for guiding my son to
choose a beautiful Cebuana wife, Mavis
Gomez-Cabrera, so he can continue to
stay in Cebu – the bastion of the devotion

to the CHILD JESUS. I am fortunate to
have another beautiful daughter-in-law,
Mary Rose Labadia, who holds in her
(and Chandymar’s) cozy home, a
Magnificent Image of Señor Sto. Niño,
pillared by antique lampshades
expressing dominion and unity for
Christianity.