Lucille Wong, a Melbourne writer, describes how her family holiday in the Philippines was overshadowed by worry until a real medical emergency taught her she can cope under pressure. In a piece for the Sharing the Load column, she reflects on the contrast between her own constant anticipatory fear and her partner’s calm demeanor.
The Bite That Sparked Panic
While riding a tuk-tuk in a remote part of Cebu Island, Wong’s four-year-old son screamed after being bitten by something. Her mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario: a dengue-carrying mosquito. The remote location, far from major hospitals, amplified her anxiety. She berated herself for not applying more repellent and questioned her decision to bring her young family there.
In contrast, her partner remained calm. He found a cold drink to use as an ice pack and sat with their son until he settled. Minutes later, the bite showed no redness or swelling. Their son, now watching TV, could barely recall which arm had been bitten. Nevertheless, Wong prepared antihistamines, Googled symptoms and nearby medical centres, and began mapping an exit plan to leave a day early for a more central location.
A Week of Worry
Over the week, Wong’s worry extended to stray dogs, ice cubes, street food, traffic, and earthquakes. The Philippines sits on several active fault lines, and cracked roads and semi-collapsed buildings were constant reminders of risk. She envied her partner, who appeared genuinely relaxed, and her children, who adapted easily. By the time they reached a central tourist hub and checked into a resort for the final two nights, some of that carefree energy had rubbed off, and she began to unwind.
The Real Emergency
In the middle of the night, a thump followed by a wail and scream jolted them awake. Wong’s seven-year-old daughter had fallen out of bed, leaving a deep gash across her forehead and blood on the bed and floor. Both parents moved instantly into action. They assessed the wound and knew she needed medical help. Wong called the front desk, and within minutes resort staff arranged a car. She packed a bag with passport, money, and power banks, and woke her sleeping brother.
They visited three hospitals. At the first, nurses checked vitals but the only doctor was tied up in emergency surgery for at least two hours. At the second, staff cleaned the wound and recommended wound glue, but they had none. They moved to a larger teaching hospital in the CBD. By 3am, after repeating the story and completing paperwork, they met a calm, decisive doctor who ruled out wound glue and ordered stitches—four in total. The doctor told the daughter to scream as much as needed, but the procedure was necessary. Wong’s partner held the girl while Wong sat outside with her sleeping younger brother, counting quietly as she had taught her daughter during the local anaesthetic needle.
Aftermath and Reflection
They were discharged with antibiotics, painkillers, and a tetanus shot, returning to the resort at 6am. A resort nurse later cleaned the wound, and by midday most had managed a few hours of sleep. Wong jokes she doesn’t want to travel with the kids again, but looking back, she realises how much she parents with anticipatory fear and how unhelpful that is. It doesn’t prevent accidents or emergencies; it only heightens emotions and makes parenting more exhausting.
When the real emergency happened, she focused on the present, thinking only about the next step, not the next five. Somewhere between the third hospital and sunrise, she wasn’t worried about scars or infections—only about breakfast. Two months later, her daughter’s wound has healed beautifully. She rarely talks about the incident, instead recalling snorkelling with turtles and getting her hair braided.
Wong concludes that there will be another trip. She will still pack medicines and repellent, and probably look up hospitals. But she will also carry more confidence that when things go wrong, she can cope.
