(Based on the true story of Roberto Abello Sr.)
It happened on a semester break in 1969. I was then studying law at the Far Eastern University in Manila, Philippines. I wanted to be a lawyer one day. One night, shortly before I went to sleep, I noticed several white, round spots on my skin. Nothing to worry about, it’s just a simple illness, I thought. I applied Bioderm ointment on the spots.
The days passed. Instead of healing, the white spots multiplied like unwanted freckles all over my skin! I had no idea until one day a friend named Pepot, who was a midwife, noticed the spots on my back.
“Are they itchy?” she asked.
I shook my head. Pepot then asked my permission if he could prick a patch of white spots with a needle.
“Yes, do it,” I obeyed him.
While I was picking up, he asked me again if I felt anything.
“No,” I said again.
Even if my friend was suspicious, she preferred not to tell me. Instead, Pepot suggests that she visit the Department of Skin Diseases at Hospital San Lázaro in Manila for a proper checkup. I followed her advice. The doctor at Hospital San Lázaro took a small sample of tissue from my skin for a biopsy. The biopsy results came back after three days.
“Don’t start,” said the doctor. “You have leprosy, but now it is curable.”
I was stunned. For several seconds, I was motionless. It was as if a bomb exploded in front of me; the ground below me seemed to spin in circles.
When I broke the news to my aunt, with whom I was staying, she was very sad and equally shocked. It was when she was alone in my room that I lost control of myself. From so much fear, worry and absolute impotence, I sobbed like a child.
I couldn’t continue with law school. I went home to Samar, a province in the Visayas, to rest. But coming home was another trip to Calvary.
My home was in Borongan, Eastern Samar, where I lived with my grandmother in a house that she owned. Ever since I was orphaned at a tender age, my grandmother’s house became my refuge. Together with an aunt and her family, we lived together in harmony. I thought that Borongan’s peaceful and clean environment made it an ideal place for recovery. However, when I arrived, the once friendly atmosphere had changed.
Their smiles were tinged with anxiety, as expected. I was left alone in my room. I did not go out or visit my friends for fear that they would discover me with such an illness and tarnish the family name. He was so alone, but he didn’t want to be feared, ridiculed or rejected.
My food was separate from the rest. A servant brought food to my room every day: rice, viands, and drinking water. I felt uneasy about this because I didn’t want any special treatment. One day, passing through the kitchen, I saw the server spray boiled water on the plates, glasses and utensils that I used to eat.
This must not go on, I thought. One day, something would break. A chaos of emotions raged inside me: a seething mix of fear, hate, shame, hopelessness, and sadness. The brutal description I read of leprosy in a magazine “of fingers, nose or ears falling like autumn leaves” haunted me. One day, alone in my room, I decided to kill myself.
I bought a bottle of Tanduay rum and a razor blade. The rum was to numb the bread and encourage me to cut my wrist. I wrote a suicide letter addressed to my aunt and grandmother, thanking them for my education and support since I was a child. I hid the letter and waited for the right moment to execute my plan.
I felt a temporary sense of release, mixed with fear. The wait made me restless and I forced myself to read to distract myself. Choosing an old science book, I scanned the pages at random. I was struck by an image with a caption that read: Culion, where lepers can live normally. Suddenly, I felt a surge of hope within me. I found a solution to my problem and experienced a feeling of joy. I was saved!
The next day, I mustered up enough courage to tell my grandmother that I intended to go to Culion, an island located in Palawan, for treatment. I arrived at Culion in April 1970. In my first month I noticed that everything seemed normal. When I was with my fellow lepers, I was relaxed; no more mental torture, worry or stigma. I even played chess with lepers who had open wounds. I realized the absurdity of my reaction to this illness. I reacted to the point of self-destruction.
After six months of medication (avlo-sulfone and ferrous sulfate), the numerous white spots on my body turned reddish and gradually disappeared. It was comforting to know that my skin was healing, a sign that I was already “clean”. A series of blood and tissue tests confirmed it. I tested negative for Hansen’s disease. (leprosy)
Taking advantage of this splendid development, I regained my self-confidence and my outlook on life became brighter. I started noticing the girls around. At 27, I fell in love with a lovely young widow, courted her and eventually married her despite knowing her parents were lepers. Actually, I deliberately chose a girl whose lineage had a history of leprosy. In case my illness returned, she would understand and she would not be afraid. Above all, she would not leave me for another.
It had been more than 28 years since I tested negative for Mycobacterium Leprae. I considered myself lucky. Unlike other lepers who were crippled by the disease, I did not suffer any wounds caused by the bacteria. Except for the numbness in my left forearm, nothing happened to the rest of my body.
As one of the victims of leprosy, I can now attest to what doctors say about the disease: leprosy is curable. The expression “living dead” that was used to describe lepers is now a thing of the past. I want to express my gratitude to all the selfless scientists, doctors and lay people who dedicated their lives to finding the cause and cure of Hansen’s disease. And for those who still strive to help ease the pain (physical or psychological) of lepers, I salute you all!