The Blessing of a kind neighbor

By Noel Galon de Leon

I tried to play detective with my flu, lining up suspects like a crime scene in my own body. Was it the weather with its mood swings hotter one day, cooler the next. Was it the airplane, packed with fellow passengers coughing like it was a group audition for a medical drama, back and forth between Manila and Iloilo. Or maybe it was my recent lifestyle, the questionable food choices, the complete absence of exercise, and the heroic effort of chasing deadlines for grades submission while judging almost eighty short stories. Somewhere in that mess, my body finally raised a white flag. Thankfully, even on sick days, there are people who make things lighter, like my neighbor.

When I got back to Iloilo and attended a friend’s birthday celebration, I thought the night would end with cake and good conversation. Instead, by evening, I found myself rushing to the emergency room. My stomach hurt, and it felt like something liquid and rebellious was climbing up my chest, demanding to be thrown out. Sleep refused to visit me because my mind kept asking what was happening. Before I could even leave the house, my feet dragged me to the bathroom where I experienced something new and deeply unpleasant, vomiting saliva so sour it could wake the dead. That was my first encounter with what people casually call acid reflux.

I had known about acid reflux for years because almost all my friends have it. I was the youngest in the group, so I assumed it was a problem reserved for future me, the older, wiser version who drinks antacids for breakfast. I never imagined it would knock on my door so soon. Because of that arrogance, I ignored the small warnings my body probably sent earlier. When I arrived at the hospital, I was immediately checked by the doctor. The nearest hospital to my home in Jaro is Mission Hospital, a place I feel comfortable going to when my body decides to misbehave.

The doctor interviewed me thoroughly, asking about my medical history with the calm patience of someone who has seen it all. It helped that I already had previous records there, so I did not have to retell my life story like a dramatic monologue. He quickly confirmed that I had gastroesophageal reflux. My throat was inflamed because acid had climbed up where it did not belong. If left untreated, it could scrape my throat and cause problems nobody wants to imagine.

He asked about my recent activities, and that was when the truth spilled out. Over the past month, I had attended one party after another. Lunch here, dinner there, sometimes coffee, sometimes ice cream, sometimes both because why not. This is the social demand when the ber months arrive. On top of that, a week before Christmas, I flew to Manila to judge a short story writing contest for the Department of Education.

I stayed in a hotel for almost three days. The routine was dangerously comfortable. Eat good food, deliberate, read stories, lie down. No exercise, no walking, just sitting for hours reading teachers’ works, then returning to my room after dinner and immediately lying down like a very tired cat. Day after day, that became my life. The doctor nodded knowingly and confirmed that this routine was one of the possible causes of my acid reflux. His advice was simple but humbling. Walk or stay upright for at least thirty minutes after eating. Do not lie down immediately, no matter how tempting the bed looks.

After the examination and buying the prescribed medicine, I slowly drove home. I felt a quiet regret, thinking how these hours could have been spent reading a book, resting, or writing. Still, I have to admit I felt calmer after talking to the doctor and understanding what my body was going through. There is something comforting about having a name for your pain.

Sitting in the car, I reflected on the past year and realized something uncomfortable. I am no longer twenty one, believing I can do everything fast and easy without consequences. I remembered the advice of my writer friend and mentor, Ma’am Alice, who once told me to rest and slow down. Maybe it was time to listen. Maybe it was time to return to myself and accept that I am not getting any younger, no matter how much I pretend otherwise.

The next day, feeling slightly better, I decided to go to the beach. The plan was simple. Sit, write, and wait for the sunset to remind me that endings can be beautiful. Before I could leave, I heard someone calling my name from outside the gate. It was a familiar voice. When I opened the gate, I saw my friend, my very first neighbor since I moved into this subdivision.

She handed me a plastic bag, and I was genuinely surprised by its contents. Bananas, boiled eggs, cookies, and mangosteens. It was not fancy, but it felt like a warm blanket placed gently over my bad week. I let her in, thanked her repeatedly, and suddenly the day felt softer.

Moments like these truly fatten the heart, especially when you are unwell and especially during the Christmas season. Kindness has a way of healing things medicine cannot reach. It comes quietly, through friends, through neighbors who notice when something is wrong and choose to care anyway.

After thanking her, and before heading to the beach, I paused for a prayer. I asked that all good hearts be blessed and protected. I prayed for my friends and for my neighbor, hoping that her relationship with her partner would be guided and blessed every day, that they would continue to be kind to each other. The truth is, living alone is not easy these days.

And maybe that is the real lesson my acid reflux tried to teach me. Slow down, take care, and appreciate the people who show up with fruit, eggs, and concern. Having a kind neighbor is not just a convenience. It is a blessing, one that soothes the stomach and the soul at the same time.

Write to Noel Galon de Leon