By CCT Nurse Jacob Macarilay as told by CCT Staff Myra Gaculais del Rosario

Jacob Macarilay cleans wounds
sustained by Yolanda survivor Anastacio.

From the plane, the scene below seemed to me like someone had gotten tired of playing with his toys and, in a temper tantrum, had toppled them all with a quick sweep of the hand. But this was not a playroom floor strewn with toys. This was Tacloban City 12 days after it had been hit by Super Typhoon. Trees and utility posts were lying on their sides, buildings of all sizes were roofless, cars were piled up and surrounded by debris.

I was with a medical team sent to Tacloban by the Center for Community Transformation Group of Ministries (where I work as a school nurse) and the Victory Christian Fellowship. This was my first visit to Tacloban. I wondered, “How would I have felt if I were coming home to a city as devastated as this?”

As soon as we stepped off the plane the depression all around was almost something we could touch. Then Pastor Ed Gomez and his wife Geraldine who were to be our guides through the city rushed up to greet us. They had lost almost all their material possessions in the storm but but they welcomed us with the sunniest of smiles. I was supposed to be bringing them encouragement, but here they were encouraging me. Their joy was contagious.

We unloaded our bags and medical supplies at the Ritz Tower de Leyte, an event venue and restaurant also heavily damaged by the typhoon then we set off to meet the vice mayor and register as aid volunteers.
The vice mayor, we found out, was a pastor! A survivor too, his home and car were damaged. He had to walk to and from the city hall everyday. If he seemed exhausted it was understandable -- he was dealing with a situation far worse than anyone’s worst nightmares. Still, he worked with quiet determination.

He requested our group of three doctors, two nurses and one non-medical staff to fill the gap between the local government's efforts and ‘big players’ bringing in aid such as international organizations, the Department of Health, and the Philippine Red Cross.

Back at the Ritz, we met two volunteers looking for a group they could team up with. Steven introduced himself as a registered pharmacist. Jason, although just about my age – 21 – said he’d been doing volunteer work for quite some time and had actually crossed paths with Steven at relief operations thrice before. We knew God had sent them our way. Steven's experience with reading scribbled prescriptions and Jason's assistance with dispensing medicine helped us serve a lot more patients than we could have without their help.

We treated more than 500 patients in two days in Leyte. One of them was Kuya Anastacio.

He told me his survival story while I cleaned wounds on his legs.

Like other men in his seaside community, he’d sent his family to an evacuation center and stayed home to keep an eye on their belongings. The storm surge flattened houses in the entire neighborhood and swept him and many others out to sea. Clinging to someone's house post as dead neighbors floated around him he earnestly prayed that God would spare him. Several hours later a rescue team fished him out of the water alive.

As a nurse I am trained never to give in to my emotions when treating a patient. But I was crying just as hard as Kuya Anastacio as I told him, “God heard your plea. God has a purpose for your life. He gave you a second chance.” He turned his life over to Jesus that morning at the evacuation center.