Four times at death’s door—and still standing

The early evening sun was fading, and rush hour traffic jammed the highway from Eastwood to Bonifacio Global City. Cars crawled forward, horns blaring, yet my son, Jodi, drove as if every second counted. Our car weaved between buses, taxis, cars, and jeepneys, slipping through tiny openings in a crowded road.

“Mom, hold on,” he said, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened.

I felt my strength slipping, my head dizzy, my body weakening with each passing moment. I closed my eyes and prayed quietly: “Lord, guide Jodi, protect us, let us reach the hospital safely. Please help me survive this ride.”

Normally, the trip takes far longer. That day, Jodi made it in barely 10 minutes. Every minute mattered. Life itself seemed to hang by a thread. We were both silent, but were filled with fear.

When we finally arrived, hospital staff rushed me into the emergency room. Within minutes, a chilling announcement echoed across the ER:

“Brain attack.”

Doctors and nurses surrounded my bed almost instantly. Machines were wheeled in. Someone called for an emergency MRI. Only then did I realize the gravity of my condition. That terrifying night marked the beginning of an unimaginable journey.

Within the next six months, I would face four life-threatening illnesses: a stroke, a brain tumor, cancer, and severe food poisoning that nearly shut down my body. Four times, I stood at death’s door. And four times, by the grace of God and the extraordinary doctors who cared for me, I survived.

The power of prayer and community

During these trials, I was not alone. My heart was buoyed by the prayers and presence of my healing priests like Fr. James Matthew of the Family Rosary Crusade, Fr. Justin Torres, and Fr. Momoy Borromeo. They visited me in the hospital, said Mass, and administered the Sacraments of Extreme Unction whenever I was on the brink of death. Their faith and devotion became anchors in the storm.

I was also lifted by the Marian Community, many close friends, parish friends, priests, bishops, and archbishops, who prayed fervently, sent messages of encouragement, and surrounded me with spiritual strength. Each whispered prayer, Mass offered, or message of hope became a thread of light guiding me through uncertainty.

Even the holy images I held close, like Our Lady of Guadalupe’s Tilma, the Santo Niño, Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, Our Lady of Victories, Our Lady of All Nations, and my St. Benedict Crucifix, felt alive with the prayers of those who loved me. Their support reminded me that healing is never just physical; it is profoundly spiritual, a collaboration of God’s grace, human care, and unwavering faith. Sacramentals are also powerful.

The silent enemy: The brain tumor

Just as I began to regain strength from the stroke, another shadow appeared: a brain tumor, specifically a vestibular schwannoma. The diagnosis felt like thunder. My daughter Christie was due to give birth in August, and I chose to wait to experience my grandson’s birth before scheduling surgery or radical treatments.

The doctors discussed the surgical risks: potential loss of speech, vision, mobility, and even life. Another option was Gamma Knife radiation, a non-invasive procedure using focused beams to stop the tumor’s growth. My family—Jodi, Christie, and my niece Lia—helped me make the decision.

During the treatments, my head was fastened inside the cold, metal radiation machine. My eldest brother, Toto, another of my prayer warriors, was also unsettled by how courageous I was being, with all that I was faced with. He sadly witnessed my ordeal and was supportive of me all the way.

I was surrounded by my most cherished images, and instead of fear, I felt calm surrender, singing praise songs, praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and the rosary. By God’s grace, I was spared the nasty side effects of severe headaches, nausea or hair loss, though my sense of taste became distorted.

A new life amid death

On Aug. 1, my grandson Nathan was born. Days later, I committed to the treatment. I was still recovering from Gamma Knife radiation. My body felt fragile, and each day seemed uncertain. Yet when Christie brought Nathan to visit me at the hospital, which was almost daily, hope and unexplained inner strength surged. My granddaughter Beatriz accompanied him, filling the room with laughter. Grandchildren do have a magical effect on grandmas. They were making me smile.

In that hospital room, I realized something profoundly true: While one life may be struggling to survive, another life is just beginning. Perhaps God was reminding me that even in the darkest hours, life goes on, and hope is never extinguished.

One day, I was lying beneath the cold precision of a radiation machine. The next day, I was holding a newborn baby in my arms. In those moments, I understood how closely life and death walk beside each other.

The third blow: Cancer

Just as I thought the worst was behind me, cancer struck on the last day of my Radiation Treatment. Facing mortality again forced me to confront life with brutal honesty. Painful tests confirmed my dreadful illness. We often hear much about cancer, but when it hits you, you realize that you are just like the many other women who get sick of this lethal illness. Surgery was scheduled. Pain was immense. Recovery required strong medications, prayer, and surrender.

My PET scan had cleared me of cancer cells. I was ecstatic. But some doctors recommended chemotherapy even after surgery, despite the PET scan’s good results. But I prayed intensely and trusted God’s guidance that I would not have to undergo chemotherapy. I chose to forego treatment, believing that His plan was perfect. For me, absolutely, no chemotherapy, and I trusted God that He would spare me. And I remain hopeful that He will deliver me from my fear.

The fourth trial: Food poisoning

When I thought the worst was over, severe food poisoning struck, bringing me dangerously close to death again. It was my lazy cook at home who was negligent in washing the veggies she cooked for me. Needless to say, I fired her after getting all the laboratory findings of what parasites and viruses she fed me. She almost killed me. My children were so angry. My body weakened, and I received the Last Sacraments four times for each and every battle I had to face. Once again, God’s grace and the remarkable medical team of Dr. Patricia Cabral Prodigalidad sustained me.

That was the closest I had ever come to death. The food poisoning drained every ounce of strength from my body and left me in agonizing pain, as if life itself were slowly slipping away. In those long, frightening hours, I realized how fragile our lives truly are and how quickly the body can surrender when it is pushed beyond its limits. Yet by God’s grace, I survived. And when the pain finally eased, I felt an overwhelming gratitude simply to breathe, to wake up, and to be given another chance to live.

Surrender to God

There came a moment during my illness when I completely surrendered my life to God. I prayed with all my heart: “Lord, take me where You want me to go. If my journey on earth is finished, I am ready. But if I can still serve You here, help me continue the work You have entrusted to me.”