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Service, Education, and Support

Our non-profit organization promotes better access to neurosurgical care through service, education, and support. Here are a few of our life-transforming stories that tell about the impact of giving.

The Story of Thomas

Baby Thomas was given up by his family because he was suffering from hydrocephalus. To care for him was too expensive, especially when access to care was challenging. At the shelter, his family believed Thomas would be better taken care of and hoped he would be adopted for a better life. But his medical needs continue to be a burden. Meanwhile, he's almost five years old now and has yet to find a home. Luckily, Educational Surgical Mission (ESM) team members were able to provide him with life-changing surgery. Thomas recovered as a playful, happy child. Soon, he was adopted by a loving family. Hydrocephalus is described as having fluid buildup in the brain. The pressure in the brain causes a lot of pain.

The story of bernardita

The cost of treating her brain aneurysm was equivalent to a recently retired school teacher's entire retirement fund. Her choices were either to live with her aneurysm could rupture anytime, or exhaust her savings to treat her condition. Unable to decide, she prayed. NOF's ESM, in conjunction with the Equipment Donation Program, directly helped this teacher just in time. Her prayers were answered. She received an innovative treatment as well as a donated aneurysm clip and cured her. Immediately, she got peace of mind to enjoy the rest of her retirement years worry-free. 40% of brain aneurysms are fatal, with the most common form causing a stroke. Of those who survive, almost 70% will experience neurological impairment or disability.

VOlUNTEERS and Their BIG HEARTS

  • "It was an absolute honor and privilege to participate as a member of the NOF team to the Philippines in June 2022. The trip was truly meaningful to both sides, with American neurosurgeons providing care to those in Manila and Cebu with the greatest need, alongside our Filipino neurosurgical colleagues. There was dedicated cross-pollination of ideas and concepts that will make all of us better surgeons as we move forward in practice. I come away from this experience with extraordinary respect for the dedication and skill of the neurosurgery residents and consultants with whom we worked and interacted in Manila, Cebu, and Davao. I look forward to future such trips where we can consecutively build on the foundation established this year, which will enable us to deliver more care to more patients with great need. NOF is a true humanitarian organization committed to the betterment of Filipino neurosurgery and, most especially, providing compassionate medical care to those who may otherwise be unable to attain it."
    Dr. Wayne Gluf, ESM 2022 Volunteer Spine Neurosurgeon
  • "My time spent in the Philippines with NOF left an indelible mark on me. To be part of something so much bigger than myself may have done as much for me as those we served. Never underestimate the value of serving others and its potential to heal the world."
    Melanie Boree Board of Director
  • "...mission trip to the Philippines was simply amazing. A full display of service above self, teaching and treating the less privileged, sharing ideas and resources."
    Dr. Ricardo Hanel, ESM 2018 Volunteer Cerebrovascular Neurosurgeon

What our scholars say

"NOF has not only given me the learning opportunity via the course but also taught me the pleasure of giving....more than I expected the course has phenomenal impact on my outlook, surgical training, understanding, and insight into pediatric neurosurgery. It has motivated me to purse the path to care for the underserved population with compassion and confidence."
Dr. Rakesh Kumar Mishra, India
"Thanks to the NOF-TLHF Educational Award, I was privileged to be able to participate in the 6th Annual Innovations in Cerebrovascular Science Conference and Skull-base Course. This certainly represents a big step in my training. Knowledge I can take to help improve health in my country. I am grateful for the opportunity I had to meet, learn and interact with great names in neurosurgery."
Victor Frandoloso, Brazil

Thinking Out Loud: An Essay From There

Losing Somebody Else’s Fight by Ronnie E. Baticulon, MD
“Kamusta ka?” (How are you?)
“Maayo naman!” (I am good) said the wide-eyed ten-year-old boy with a flash of his cavity-laden teeth. I began to tickle Eric in the stomach and was satisfied to see him giggle and move about in his metal stretcher bed because of what I was doing. At least he was wide-awake and playful, as a child should. With a tumor the size of a five-peso coin in his brain, he probably would not be able to celebrate his next birthday if he did not undergo surgery soon.
Of course, he didn’t know this. He didn’t have to. We had just told his mother at his bedside, and the only response we got was a meek crying as if mourning for her still living child.
Eric is the youngest of seven children. His parents brought him to our hospital from Masbate because they noticed that he had difficulty walking and would often fall to the ground whenever he attempted to run. Understandably, his parents were shocked to find out that what they thought to be a quick orthopedic problem turned out to be something more sinister. At the rate it was growing, his tumor could compress the part of his brain that controlled his heart rate and breathing in a few months’ time, weeks even.
He would die without knowing he was dying, taking with him whatever potential he had and whoever he was meant to be.
“Matalino ka ba?” (Are you smart?)
He kept giggling—no facial asymmetry—and turned his head away, refusing to reply.
“Eh anong favorite subject mo?” (So, what’s your favorite subject?)
“Filipino po.” (Filipino)
“Ayaw mo ng math?” (You don’t like math?)
“Hihihi. Ayaw.” (No.)
I stopped my neurologic examination and looked at his mother, who had now begun to run her fingers through her underweight child’s brown hair in gentle, sweeping strokes. My mother used to do that when I had a fever as a child. I would always remember the feeling of warmth and serenity it brought. This mother’s doting gesture wasn’t meant to primarily comfort, however. It was her apology to her son for giving up too soon.
“Wala po kaming pera pampaopera, Dok.” (We do not have money for surgery, Doc.)
“Hindi po pwedeng ganun ‘Nay. Gawan po ninyo ng paraan. Tawagan ni’yo po lahat ng kamag-anak ninyo. Mangutang po kayo kung kailangan. Anak ni’yo po iyan; kapag namatay iyan, wala nang bawian ‘yun.” (That should not be an excuse, ma’am. You have to find a way. Contact all your relatives. Borrow money if you have to. That is your son. If he dies, then there’s nothing you can do about it.)
She continued to cry, wiping her tears with her dirtied Good Morning towel.
“Dok, wala po kaming kakilala dito sa Maynila.” (Doc, we do not have relatives here in Manila.)
“Ano bang trabaho ng asawa mo?” (What does your husband do for a living?)
“Nagtatanim lang po ng mais at kamoteng kahoy.” (He plants corn and cassava.)
“Magkano po ang dala niyong pera nung pumunta kayo dito?” (How much money did you bring on your way here?)
“Isanlibo lang po, Dok. Nabawasan na kasi bumili pa ako ng mga gamot kanina.” (Just a thousand pesos, Doc. And I now have less because I had to buy medications earlier.)
I ran through the numbers in my head:
  • Operating Room – PHP 20,000
  • Anesthesia Needs – PHP 7,000
  • Serial Cranial CT Scan – PHP 5,000
  • Antibiotics – PHP 15,000
  • Laboratory Workups – PHP 5,000
  • Mechanical Ventilator – PHP 2,000 + PHP 500/Day
Our neurosurgical team could defray the cost of operating room needs by using other patients’ excess medical supplies. We could even pay for his post-operative imaging. But taking out the tumor was just the beginning. To treat his brain cancer comprehensively, in all likelihood, Eric would need chemotherapy and radiation therapy immediately after surgery. Otherwise, the tumor would recur, and it would mean having to start from square one again. We had not even discussed the genuine possibility of surgical complications.
“Iuuwi na lang po namin siya, Dok,” (We would just bring him home, Doc) she said, not looking at me but at her son, who remained oblivious to the somberness of our conversation.
To begin with, children do not belong in a hospital. They are meant to watch Batibot (a Filipino TV show for kids), play Agawang-Base and Langit-Lupa (traditional outdoor games for children), get into fights deciding who’s “it,” read about the adventures of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, bring out Father’s slippers when he arrives, and help Mother set up the dining table. They are not supposed to be bedridden, incubated, catheterized, injected with, or operated on.
They cannot fight their fight, and nothing is more disheartening than hearing their parents refusing to fight for them.
“Gusto mo nang umuwi?” (Do you want to go home?) I asked Eric in resignation.
“Opo, Dok! Wala na kaming peh-raaaa… kahit piiiii-so.” (Yes, Doc! Because we don’t have mo-neeeeey… Even a single pehhhhhh-so.)
I smiled with a sigh.
(Was that even possible?)
Some days, you cannot save them all. *Dr. Ronnie Baticulon was one of the firs awardee for the Dr. Benigno S. Aldana, Jr. Educational Award and later received the NOF-AAACPN Award. He pursued pediatic neurosurgery and is now practicing at the University of the Philippines.