My dad, the pilot: How my father made me who I am
Published Jun 21, 2026 07:22 am
A few hours before I was asked to do this piece for Father’s Day, my distraught niece called to tell me that she had taken my 82-year-old dad to the emergency room. The doctors were asking if they could put a tube down his throat and hook him to a ventilator, and she asked me to make the decision. As the doctor among my siblings, this was a moment I had always dreaded but which we had long anticipated.
My dad (second from right) during his Philippine Air Force days (Photos: Dr. Edsel Salvana/Manila Bulletin)
My father is chronically ill with Parkinson’s disease and has had multiple strokes over many years. He is bedridden and can no longer verbally communicate or open his eyes. His quality of life is not great. The only thing he truly enjoys is eating and tasting his food. Unfortunately, his previous strokes and advanced Parkinson’s disease have increased the chances of him choking on his food, and I have repeatedly warned my mother that this can cause a bad pneumonia.
None of us, however, had the heart to take away the only thing that made his life tolerable, and so we continued to feed him with as many precautions as could be taken. I explained to my mom about alternative ways of feeding, like a gastric feeding tube, which can be used to deliver enough nutrition without having him chew so much food.
However, she was reluctant to proceed with an operation, and it kept getting put off. I had also discussed do-not-intubate and do-not-resuscitate advanced directives with our family so that he would not suffer when the inevitable happens, but my mom had not filed the paperwork, as I can imagine it is quite painful for her to even think of what was to come.
Before becoming ill, my dad was one of the nicest and most cheerful people you could ever meet. The second of eight siblings from Cagayan de Oro, he took good care of his brothers and sisters and was always ready to lend a hand to anyone in need.
With my dad and my son, Lino, in healthier times
He told me that he had wanted to be a doctor, but his father asked him to join the military instead. He was accepted into the Philippine Military Academy and joined the Philippine Air Force as one of the first combat helicopter pilots in the Philippines. He distinguished himself in air missions in the 1970s against different rebel movements in the field. Many of his military comrades have told me that my dad was their favorite person because he frequently volunteered to fly missions on holidays so other people could be off with their families. He constantly asked if they had eaten, and he made sure no one was hungry.
After he met my mom in Cotabato and they got married and had us (I’m the second of three children), we moved to Manila so that he didn’t have to fly so many combat missions, especially after he got shot down but thankfully survived.
Throughout my life, my dad has been my biggest cheerleader, and I could count on him to make me laugh with his corny dad jokes whenever we saw each other. He was the favorite tito among my cousins because he was such a jolly person, and he would go out of his way to help them whenever he could. He loved having my kids visit, and he regaled them with his war stories.
I first noticed he had some word-finding difficulties during one of our Christmas reunions. An MRI subsequently showed that he had suffered the first of many strokes. He also started showing signs of Parkinson’s disease with worsening tremors and rigidity. It was difficult to watch as this proud veteran, who taught me how to swim and play basketball, gradually lost his mobility and his ability to speak.
When my son last visited my dad, he had to hold back tears because the bedridden person he saw, who could neither move nor speak, was so far removed from the vibrant and merry person he remembered.
I still don’t know if my dad will make it as I write this. We didn’t intubate, but we started strong antibiotics and admitted him to the intensive care unit. There are some encouraging signs that he is improving, but at his age and with all his other illnesses, it will be touch-and-go.
No sickness, however, can ever take away the memories of the time I spent with him, and I will cherish these as long as I live. Every day I try to be as good a father to my children as he was to us, and I remember those happy times as a source of strength whenever I feel down. I know he is proud of the man I have become, especially since he wanted to become a doctor.
Dad, I like to think that I fulfilled your dreams for both of us. I may not be a pilot like you, but you taught me how to fly.