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This proverb I think I first encountered in high school has never been truer to me yesterday as I was letting in through the window the morning sunlight. I woke up with a severe pain in the shoulder and I could not afford to look back either to the left or to the right.
As what I usually practiced lately at times like this, I tried mind-over-matter thing again. I did the routine chores and nonchalantly ignored the pain. However, like what happened then to a pesky spurned suitor in me who didn’t take “no” for an answer easily, such pain grew by leaps and bounds especially when I rode upon a leaping and bouncing jeepney.
While I was on my way to the city, someone was calling on me, and my face would turn to the direction of a caller, simultaneously with my whole body. And then I remembered that immortal proverb again. Thus I was left with no recourse but to drop off in the house of Tay Crispin.
Tay Crispin was, still is, my first and last option regarding matters of broken bone or swollen knuckle. Since childhood, his hut is my E.R. for back pain, bruised heel, misaligned artery or twisted ankle. The warmth of his touch would always melt the iron reserve in me, and would break me down especially when he’d already start to realign my injury. One thing I like also with him is the more I restrict him of a certain part not to hit, the more he would go berserk going for it.
Ahh, Mrs. Doubtfire’s beautician was right absolutely: “Pain is beauty.” Total healing could be attained after a hurting process only. I couldn’t imagine a world without Tay Crispin. Who else could, for just twenty pesos, remove your thorn in the flesh along with the searing pain?
Can you blame the Filipinos of old why they loved Mang Kepweng right from the start? How I wish Tay Crispin then too could heal matters of the heart. If that was so, I would have had been his constant patient. I hope someday when he’s gone or unseen, a poor parent won’t cry out in the streets and say, “Basilio… Crispin…”
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