By: Telly Gonzaga-Ocampo
The Modern Day Merchant of Venice
“When the Pound of Flesh Comes with a Professional Fee”
I still remember Ms. Candida Vale at St. Joseph College, now Holy Spirit School. Those times were my American and English literature days. She would pull us back centuries with one reading: Shakespeare, Tennyson, Marlowe, Longfellow. And Poe. Who could forget Edgar Allan Poe?
My friend Carolina Zapatos knew that passion of mine for Poe. As a result, she gave me a gold-edged Poe material, and I treated it like a relic. Books were expensive, but comfort was free. You just opened a page and there would be a long stretch of joy for the bookworm.
The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare
These days, my comfort is the radio. Ted Ayeng’s Cuentas Claras every morning and all the other programs until 4pm. The list includes the programs of my bff Ardy and her sister Gloria: Open Forum and Newsmakers. Then I dig the news. Then Facebook. From all these episodes I get to hear the pleas of the common tao as they participate in the hospital fundraising posts.
Lisud na gyud kaayo ang kalibutan. Ug ang kalisud, naa na sa atong panglawas labi na gyud kung kita ug ang atong mga mahal sa kinabuhi masakit.
That’s when I thought of The Merchant of Venice.
Not the gondolas. The contract.
Shylock was just one merchant in the story. He wanted a pound of flesh from a man who couldn’t pay. His line is famous for a reason: “You can cut a pound of flesh, but not one drop of blood.” Brutal. Honest. At least he filed it in court.
Today the merchant has multiplied. He wears a barong in Congress. He sits on a board. And sometimes, he wears a white coat with a stethoscope.
I’m not talking about all doctors. I am not referring to the ones
who stay past their shift; who explain in Bisaya; who squeeze your hand before surgery; who giveyou a warm smile to comfort your anxieties, To these doctors, we see you. Daghang Salamat.
This is a long queue of the people waiting for their turn to be entertained.
What I’m talking about is the system that taught us this statement – “Bawal ang magkasakit sa panahon ngayon.”
It is because once you get sick, the math starts. Government hospitals have the best doctors, Yes! But they also have 5 patients to one bed, and a line that wraps around the ER. So you do what every Filipino does when they’re scared. You go to private hospitals.
And there, behind the glass doors and the aircondiltioned rooms, is the second bill. The one they don’t print. They call this the Professional Fee. This is not in the hospital statement. It lives in an envelope. It’s “negotiable” in the hallway, but “fixed” when discharge is near. Limpak-limpak gyud. And this is computed according to their field of specialization, their reputation, or by how much they think you can borrow?
Ang mga masakiton, musamot ug kasakit
You need a guarantor? Bring it. Can’t pay? Don’t get out. I’ve heard it on radio. I’ve read it on FB. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. People camping in lobbies, selling land, doing online pangayo ug tabang at 2am because the choice was: pay or stay.
We were taught that hospitals are where you go to live. Now they’re also where you go to go broke.
So I ask, where does the money go? How much of that PF reaches the nurse who hasn’t sat down in 12 hours? The lab tech? The janitor who cleans the blood? Or does it all stop at the signature? Is there no more space for compassion? Or did we standardize it out?
Dear leaders in the higher ups, please step down from your pedestals for one afternoon. Not for a photo op. Sit in a waiting area in the hospital. Sit with the daughter counting coins for antibiotics. Sit with the father who whispered, Dili na gyud ta patugatuga ug sud ug hospital.
Can we dream of a day when PFs are standardized? Listed by field? Included in the hospital bill?. No backdoor talk?. No surprise numbers after you’re already vulnerable? It should be transparent like menu – and like respect.
Shylock of The Merchant of Venice at least told us the price up front. A pound of flesh. Take it or leave it.
Our modern day merchants are quieter. They don’t ask for flesh. They ask for fees. And they don’t take blood. They just take everything else around it.
Karma is real and so is debt and so is dignity and so is pain.
You may take a pound of flesh.
But not a single drop of blood.
And not, please, not the last bit of hope we have left.
A common sight in our country depicts the impoverished Filipino begging for alms on the streets.