Ang Kape Ni LaTtEX

These days when bloggers talk about traffic and hits, they often think about the traffic that goes through their blogs as signified by “hits”, the number of unique IP addresses that access the site. Unfortunately, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the traditional kind of hit — the one with a car — and the bad thing being that I was behind the wheel and I hit an old man.

Last Thursday, I picked up my wife from and my mom from their respective offices and was hurrying home to be able to have some dinner before I went off to work myself (I was supposed to be on night shift then). I was turning into our street from EDSA just as Lolo Enrique decided to cross the street to get to the row of tricycles waiting at the other side. Just as I completed the turn, Lolo Enrique apparently got surprised by our pick-up truck and lost his balance — he ended up holding on to the pick-up’s radio antenna and wedging his left foot under the still rolling tires of the truck.

By the time I was able to stop, his daughters who were accompanying him were screaming at me to back up. I did, hitting a tricycle behind me (and ignoring it) while my mother opened the door at the back and told Lolo Enrique and her two daughters to come in. She then instructed me to drive to the Pasay City General Hospital.

It was during that drive that we learned his name. They lived in a depressed area of Pasay City, and that he was 78 years old. His daughters were lamenting that they only recently lost their mother last September. They had come from the GSIS office near Batasang Pambansa, where they inquired about any benefits they would be getting from the death of their mother. And then the mishap happened. They went on to comfort Lolo Enrique, telling him not to be nervous or worried since his blood pressure might shoot up.

A lot of eskinitas (side streets) later, we got to the PCGH. Lolo Enrique’s foot was X-rayed (which came first before the physician on duty cleaned the wound, much to our chagrin). The X-ray was a bit blurry though, and it was unclear on whether there was a fracture or not. The doctor advised us to proceed to the Philippine General Hospital, as PCGH didn’t have an orthopedic surgeon. I told my wife to go home ahead of us.

On we went to the PGH Emergency Room. The hospital was crowded, as usual; companions were sprawled across the walkways as only one companion is allowed inside the ER (and Pinoys tend to bring whole barangays along — even if the “event” was a relative needing medical attention). In our case, Lolo Enrique’s niece, grand nephew and son arrived at the PGH some minutes after we did. My mom and Lolo’s eldest daughter Ate Elena accompanied him. Since it was a traffic mishap, having two companions was allowed.

Roughly an hour later, however, real attention had yet to be paid to Lolo Enrique. Apparently the records section was ensisting that Lolo Enrique produce his existing “blue card”; the manual paper patient’s record used by the PGH, since according to them patients weren’t allowed to have more than one. Fortunately luck came our way when I recognized a highschool batchmate, Doc Aggie, who was on ER duty at the time.

Doc Aggie helped sort things out. While I went out with Ate Elena to get meds in the pharmacy and some food for I and my mom (we had yet to have dinner), my mother accompanied Lolo Enrique in the ER and X-Ray wards. My mom later told me that if not for Doc Aggie, they wouldn’t be able to get the X-ray results as soon as we did. At one point the orthopedic surgeon insisted on admitting Lolo Enrique to the hospital. It was a big sigh of relief when he gave the go-signal to release Lolo Enrique; the X-rays showed that he wasn’t injured at all.

After Lolo Enrique was released we went on to buy some additional meds for his foot. Roughly five hours after the freak accident, my mom and I finally got home.

We visited Lolo Enrique last Sunday, this time with our Barangay Captain, so that we could formally file what had taken place. We left our contact details so that they could get in touch with us if Lolo needs some more medicine.

I used to always tell my wife how pedestrians nowadays should get a license to be one. I’ve had close calls with wayward pedestrians ever since the first day of driving school. But I guess Lolo Enrique was fate’s way of turning the joke on me.

I had the biggest scare of my life, but I definitely still am lucky. Lolo Enrique brought up a family that was corteous and honest in spite of their poverty; there were probably three families in what they call their home, a small room in an old, run-down building. I can’t apologize to them enough for what had happened. My mother’s level-headedness despite the tension saw all of us through it all; I doubt if things would have turned as well if I were alone dealing with the situation. And Doc Aggie was a Godsend.

And so I add a notch in my list of driving mishaps: a flat tire, a bent fender, and a pedestrian hit.

Hopefully this notch would be the last.