The nurses rushed about in the Emergency Room of St. Luke’s Medical Center. Everyone was busy, especially Dr. Enrico “Rico” Ibarra, the hospital’s Chief Resident. He was known for being brilliant but strict—and at times, heartless when it came to hospital policy.
“Doc! Emergency on Bed 4! Heart attack!” shouted a nurse.
Dr. Rico approached. He saw an elderly man, Tatay Ben. The man was wearing only a tattered shirt, his toenails were dark, and he smelled of the sun. With him was a weeping young man.
“What’s the situation?” Rico asked while looking at the monitor. The old man’s blood pressure was plummeting.
“He needs an immediate angioplasty, Doc. But…” the nurse hesitated.
“But what?” Rico snapped.
“They couldn’t provide a down payment. They said 100,000 pesos is required before starting the procedure. They don’t have the money.”
Rico looked at the old man with disappointment. “You know the hospital’s policy. This is a private institution, not a charity ward. If there’s no deposit, just stabilize him and transfer him to a public hospital.”
“Doc! He’ll die during the transfer!” the young man cried out. He knelt before Rico. “Please have mercy! We will sell our carabao (water buffalo)—don’t let him die!”
Rico was unmoved. “Nurse, call the ambulance now.”
As the staff scrambled, Tatay Ben’s old wallet fell to the floor. Rico looked down.
There was no money inside—only pawnshop receipts. But in the transparent ID holder, there was an old photograph.
Rico stopped. He picked it up.
The boy in the picture—wearing a toga, thin, shoeless—was him.
On the back of the photo:
“My scholar, Enrico. Someday, he will be a doctor.”
Rico felt a chill. The anonymous sponsor who had paid for his schooling back then…
Benjamin Santos.
“Tatay B…” he whispered.
The man he had almost left to die was the person who had given him hope when he had absolutely nothing.
“Doc? Shall we transfer him now?” the nurse asked.
“NO!” Rico shouted loudly. “Get him into the OR! Now!”
“But the deposit—”
“I will pay! No matter the cost! Save my father!”
And he personally led the operation. Behind his surgical mask, tears streamed down his face. “Lord… not now… I still have to repay him…”
Five hours passed before the operation was finished.
The next day, Tatay Ben woke up in a private suite.
“Am I in heaven?” he asked weakly.
Rico held the old man’s rough hand. “Not yet, sir. You are still here, Tay (Father/Dad).”
“Who are you, young man? I apologize, we don’t have the money to pay…”
Rico showed him the photograph.
“You don’t have to pay anymore. You have already paid. More than enough.”
Tatay Ben was surprised. “E-Enrico? My son… is that you?”
Rico knelt and embraced him. “Forgive me… I almost abandoned you… thank you for everything…”
The old man stroked Rico’s hair. “All my hard work was worth it. You are a doctor now. I am proud of you.”
From that day on, Dr. Rico changed. He was no longer the doctor who first asked, “Do you have a deposit?” before helping.
He established the Benjamin Santos Charity Ward—a place where the poor are treated for free.
As a thank you to the farmer who gave him a dream and a life… to the boy he helped who now saved him.