By Bella Sarenas

Statistics show that at level 3B of lung cancer, a patient has from three to six moths to live. Yours is level four,” the doctor told Berting. My husband and I just held on to each other that morning of August 8, 1995 in Davao where we lived. We would need each other’s strength from then on.

Berting had to be confined in the hospital for more tests. While packing for the hospital stay. Berting and I avoided looking at each other, afraid of seeing the pain our eyes could not hide. When our eyes did meet, we clung to each other and cried together. “Lets us pray,” I said, stiffling a sob.

Bering closed his eyes and started to pray. Then, in the middle of his prayer, he cried out, “Why Lord?” Yet, almost in the same breath, Berting answered his own question with another question: “Why not?”

He had to go for chemotherapy three times in a span of one month. Each time, we both prayed in tongues, our spirit praying to the spirit of God. We prayed that Berting could not suffer the horrible side effects of chemotherapy.

We prayed for his doctors and nurses. We even prayed over his medicines before he took them, like saying grace before meal. And Bering did not suffer any of the side effects!

After the treatment session, the tumor in Berting’s brain had been reduced to one-third of its size. There were no signs of cancer cells in his lungs. And his doctor assured him that the treatment he received would continue to work over a period of time, his radiologist told me his chance to live was eight months.

Everyday upon waking up. Berting and I thanked Jesus for our borrowed lives. We consecrated everything, everyone and all merits to the Immaculate Heart of Mary and the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The more we prayed, the more we appreciated that our time, our place, our relationship were God’s gifts. We depended less and less on ourselves and relied on Jesus as our doctor, friend, companion, consoler, provider and life sustainer.

Known for his kindness, Berting became ever more considerate and loving. Holding and kissing my hands, he now and then, without effort, told me tidbits if his last will.

“No videos, no flowers, no white or black dresses during my funeral,” he said. “No sad song either. Remember me as the once healthy man that I was, should you receive donations during my wake, give the money to the charity. Mourning is in the heart. You need not visit my tomb, nor bring flowers nor candles. Just pray for me because that’s what I need.”

Once, Berting went through his wardrobe and told our daughter Mayen, “I want to wear a barong when I die.” Mayen humored him and said, “You have many suits. Wear one of them. You look better in coat and tie.”

“Nah”, he said, “they're too hot.” And we all had a good laugh.

Earlier, on March 15, 1995, Berting’s father had died of cancer. Berting was so saddened that there would be two deaths in the family within the year. Yet, we hung on to dear hope, strengthened by God’s word: We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained, perflexed but not driven to despair, persecuted but not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed. (2 Corinthians 4:8-9) Undaunted by Berting’s illness, our family went for a holiday in Cebu and Bohol.

Berting seemed to grow stronger and healthier. But when we went back home, he felt sick again. We consulted his doctor and by the look in his face, we knew the cancer was back. The doctor said the cancer spread to other parts of his brain, it was back in his lung and had even invaded his lymph nodes and liver.

We prayed and fasted. Seeing him alive each morning was hope enough for us.

Soon Berting began to suffer memory lapses. He was sharp and talkative one day, then forgetful and quiet the next. One night, when he could not sleep, I sang to him his favorite praise song.  By this time, his speech had begun to slur yet he clearly sang with me the lyrics of the song. We both cried.

One time, when I was at my lowest point, I prayed during an evening Mass for the Lord to comfort me, I said, “Jesus, I need you. I feel so useless and empty.” When I got home, I busied myself preparing dinner for two priests whom earlier a couple friend invited to visit Berting. When the priests arrived, the dining table was already set for the dinner. But one of the priests asked me to clear the table. “I’m going to say Mass,” he announced.

“We didn’t expect him to say Mass,” our friends told us. I cleared the table, and the priest promptly spread his Mass kit on the table. As I sat there, hearing Mass with my family and friends, including the househelps, I suddenly remembered my prayer to the Lord to come and comfort me. I realized then that He had come, in the person of this priest, celebrating the Eucharist right in our home!

Yes. God made us feel His loving care through the many people who prayed for Berting. A group of original settlers in Bukidnon and Davao, members of various Catholic groups –they all wrapped Berting with their prayers. I never knew how loved he was!

Soon, Berting turned for the worse, one day he had difficulty breathing and his pulmonologist said he had to do a tracheotomy, make a hole in Berting’s lungs to remove liquid that was making it difficult for my husband to breathe.

On both occasions, I did not know whether I should allow the doctors to go through the procedure. Berting gave definite instructions never to open him up. But if the procedures were not done, he would die in the next 24 hours.

However, I knew what to do. I prayed and asked my family and Community to pray for me. Then I took a step in faith, deciding against the procedures, and, contrary to what the doctors feared, Berting’s breathing normalized!

Cancer is a cruel disease that drains you not only emotionally but also financially. We were spending an average of P6, 000 a day on Berting’s medicine alone. Soon, our money just ran out. But on the day that it did, my mother-in-law just happened to visit. She told me someone who owned her money just paid his debts. And then, even before I could tell her my predicament, she handed me P 6, 000 --just what I needed for that day.

At another time, when I needed a huge amount of money, a friend lent me the cash needed – without collateral!

In addition to our daily Masses, Berting and I started to pray at the Divine Mercy Chaplet barely weeks after the discovery of his cancer. Since he was a sound sleeper, Berting prayed that God would wake him up at 3:00 a.m., the prescribed time of praying the chaplet. God did, all the time! So we prayed the chaplet daily at 3 a.m. and also 3 p.m.. After each prayer, we annointed each other with holy oil. This soothed our frayed nerves, enabling is to cope with our ordeal.

Two months before he began to suffer memory lapses and slurred speech, Berting, who was not comfortable with confession, confessed twice a month. On the third week of our stay in the hospital, I begged Jesus to teach me to pray, as I did not know how else I should pray for Berting. I wanted him to stay alive but it was painful watching him suffer. Yet, I knew it would be more painful to let go!

After I asked the Lord to teach me to pray, the head of the Divine Mercy in Davao visited us and taught me the ‘soaking’ prayer which meant reciting the chaplet seven times for seven days. “On the seventh day, Jesus will let you know His answer to your predicament,” the leader told me, “He never fails.”

I did as the leader told me. On the seventh day of praying the chaplet, I woke up singing a prayer in my heart. I told the Lord, “Today is a special day, Lord, I just know it.”

That day, Berting looked very weak. But I thought he always pulled through in the past, so I did not bother much about his condition that day. I even thought that it would be our miracle day. Berting would be healed and we would all go home.

At 3 p.m., we prayed the ‘soaking’ prayer of the Divine Mercy then went on praying --non stop -- for three hours.

We sang the Our Father, Hail Mary, Anima Christi, Blood of Jesus, and most Berting’s favorite praise songs. Despite his labored breathing Berting drew his last breath gently and quietly.

This Sunday Berting died was the seventh day since we started the chaplet of the Divine Mercy.

Like most cancer victims, he asked why. But unlike many of them, he promptly added...Why not?