20/05/2026
Recently, a friend told me a story I could not easily forget.
Her mother was seriously ill. Like many ordinary Filipino families, they tried to seek help wherever they could. They approached many offices. They reached out to politicians. Some gave partial help. Some gave words. Some gave process. But when the need is urgent, when a loved one is fighting for life, partial help can still feel like abandonment.
Then they took the courage to approach the office of Senator B**g Go.
And almost immediately, help was on the way.
That is the part many political critics do not understand. To them, public service is a talking point. To ordinary families, it is the difference between despair and relief. Between going home defeated and finding one more door that opens. Between feeling forgotten by government and realizing that somewhere, someone still responds.
Politics can spin anything.
It can turn service into suspicion. It can reduce years of work into memes. It can try to bury a public servant under noise, labels, and narrative attacks.
But there is one thing political spin cannot erase: the memory of ordinary Filipinos who were helped when they had nowhere else to go.
That is why Senator B**g Go’s return as Chair of the Senate Committee on Health and Demography matters. It is not just a committee post. It is the return of momentum to the health reforms that many poor families already know not through press releases, but through hospital corridors, long lines, medical bills, and prayers whispered beside a sick loved one.
For many Filipinos, health care is not an abstract policy debate.
Kapag may sakit ang anak, hindi ideology ang hinahanap ng magulang. Tulong ang hinahanap. Kapag nasa public hospital ka at wala ka nang pambayad, hindi political slogan ang kailangan mo. Kailangan mo ng taong may malasakit, sistemang gumagana, at gobyernong hindi ka pababayaan.
That is the deeper reason why the Malasakit Centers became one of B**g Go’s landmark contributions. Under Republic Act No. 11463, Malasakit Centers were institutionalized as one-stop shops for medical and financial assistance in DOH hospitals and the Philippine General Hospital, with patient navigation, referral assistance, and access to government health-support agencies placed closer to patients. Reports now place the number at 167 Malasakit Centers nationwide, assisting nearly 20 million Filipinos.
That is not small.
And that is not just politics.
That is a father in the province who did not have to sell the last family asset just to keep his wife in the hospital. That is a mother who found a window of help after being told the bill was too heavy. That is a senior citizen who finally felt that government was not only for those with connections.
And this is why attacks against B**g Go often fail to fully land on the ground.
Because the people may forget speeches. They may forget Senate debates. They may forget headlines. But they do not easily forget the person, the office, or the program that helped them when sickness humbled their family.
Beyond Malasakit Centers, Go also principally sponsored and authored the Regional Specialty Centers Act, which mandates specialty centers in DOH hospitals across the regions bringing services for cancer care, cardiovascular care, kidney care, mental health, geriatric care, neonatal care, trauma, burn care, rehabilitation, and other specialized needs closer to Filipinos outside Metro Manila.
For the common tao, that means something very simple: hindi lahat ng malalang sakit dapat maging biyahe papuntang Manila, Cebu, or Davao.
A patient from any far-flung province should not have to cross seas, borrow money, sleep on sidewalks, or beg relatives just to reach specialized medical care. Health care must move closer to the people, not the other way around.
Then there are the PhilHealth reforms. Under sustained pressure and appeals, PhilHealth lifted the old 45-day annual hospitalization limit, a crucial change for families dealing with prolonged, chronic, or life-threatening illnesses. Reports also cite expanded or pledged benefits covering areas such as mental health care, dental services, outpatient medicines, diagnostic tests, assistive devices, chemotherapy, cardiac care, kidney-related packages, and rehabilitation services.
This is the kind of work that does not always trend. But it lives in memory.
It lives in hospital receipts that became lighter.
It lives in families who found help after being ignored.
It lives in barangays where people say, “Lumapit kami, natulungan kami.”
It lives in the quiet gratitude of those who do not have the luxury of political theatrics because they are too busy surviving.
So yes, critics may continue to criticize. That is part of democracy.
But criticism must still bow to record.
And B**g Go’s record in public health is no longer just a campaign claim. It has become an institution—written in law, embedded in hospitals, felt in communities, and remembered by millions of ordinary Filipinos.
They can attack the man.
They can spin the story.
But they cannot easily erase what many Filipinos already know from experience: when they had no one else to run to, Senator B**g Go’s office and Malasakit were there.
And in the hearts of the common tao, that kind of service is not forgotten.
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OPINION | ROB RANCES
Disclaimer: This piece is an opinion and public commentary based on available reports, public records, and personal accounts of assistance. It does not claim that any public official is beyond criticism, but highlights the documented impact of health programs and services associated with Senator B**g Go.
