“I Know Something About Dying” Fidel Nemenzo Tells Graduates: Healing is Also Human, Social, and Just

In his commencement speech at St. Luke’s, Fidel Nemenzo urged graduates to look beyond the clinic and confront the social conditions that make people sick.

Commencement Speech
St. Luke’s College of Medicine
10 August 2025

By Fidel Nemenzo, D.Sc.

Magandang umaga sa inyo—sa mga magsisipagtapos, sa inyong mga pamilya’t mahal sa buhay, sa mga guro at kawani ng St. Luke’s College of Medicine, at sa mga kagalang-galang na panauhin.

Una sa lahat, nais kong batiin ang inyong mga pamilya. Marahil sila ang pinakamaligaya at pinaka-proud sa bulwagang ito. Ang kanilang tagumpay ay kasing-dakila ng sa inyo. Sila ang umalalay sa inyo sa mahabang taon ng pag-aaral, sa mga gabing puyat, sa mga exam, at sa mga panahong puno ng pangamba at kawalang-katiyakan. Sa likod ng bawat doktor ay may komunidad ng pagmamahal, sakripisyo, at suporta. Hindi madali ang magpalaki ng anak na nangangarap maging doktor—isang pangarap na nangangailangan hindi lamang ng talino at disiplina, kundi ng matibay na loob.

And to you, dear graduates, my warmest congratulations. You have completed one of the most rigorous courses of study—during a global pandemic that tested not only your academic abilities but also your spirit, your adaptability, and your faith. You have emerged stronger, now poised to enter a most noble profession.

A Personal Story

I am not a physician. I do not know anything about healing, but I do know something about dying. You see, I was shot in the back with an M-16 during the final years of martial law. I lay hidden and bleeding for almost an hour before I was brought to a hospital. I underwent a five-hour surgery and clung to life for four more days. The armalite bullet had missed my spine by a centimeter, my aorta by an inch. It tore through my liver and diaphragm, collapsed a lung, shattered ribs before exiting my right chest.

Years later, the thoracic surgeon told me they were almost sure I would die. One thing I learned from that experience—of being at the verge of death—is that dying is not always purely physiological. There are times when one can, in a strange and profound way, choose to surrender—and die. Or choose to fight—and live. There are unseen forces that shape the outcome—pain, fear, memory, faith.

About 15 years ago, I was invited to speak to senior medical students at another college of medicine. They asked me to talk about dying. The students wanted to understand what a person sees when in that liminal space between life and death. How does one view the doctor? What does the patient truly need—the comfort of hope or the clarity of truth? How does one make sense of overwhelming pain? These are questions that rarely appear in textbooks.

During those early days in the ICU, I was in unbearable pain and asked constantly for painkillers. But what brought the deepest comfort was not just medication. It was the quiet presence of the nurse, and the reassuring kindness of the doctor. Alone with my pain, surrounded by tubes, machines, curtains, and clinical routines, that human presence was everything.

That experience taught me that medicine is a science. It sees the body as a system to understand and repair. But healing is also human. Health is shaped not only by biology, but by culture, memory, economics, and politics. And true healing must embrace the full complexity of the human condition.

Lessons Beyond the Clinic

As you advance in your practice or specializations, I hope you resist the rigid confines of expertise. Never lose sight of the bigger picture. The problems we face—pandemics, mental health, malnutrition, environmental degradation—are not merely clinical. They are complex, layered, and entangled with issues of poverty, inequality, governance, and culture.

Listen to unfamiliar voices. Learn from different ways of thinking. This intellectual openness is not only enriching, it is ethically necessary. Only by breaking down silos and drawing from many ways of knowing can we truly understand the challenges before us, and find solutions that are grounded, just, and humane.

I saw this truth in action during the COVID-19 pandemic. As Chancellor of UP Diliman I created and led the university’s pandemic task force—doctors working with lawyers, statisticians, community workers, and communication experts. Week after week, we worked together to respond to a crisis with no playbook. That experience showed me what real collaboration looks like and deepened my understanding of health: that it is not only clinical, but social. Not only about medicine, but about justice.

The pandemic exposed what we already knew: social injustice kills. No one was spared, but it hit the poor the hardest. In our communities, we saw it: cramped homes and neighborhoods where distancing was impossible, workers forced to choose between wages and wellness, families rationing food and medicine. It reminded us that we cannot build a healthy and resilient nation without addressing the social and economic conditions that undermine health.

The Social Contract of Medicine

Doctors, whether in a crowded ward of a hospital or the quiet of a private clinic, carry a public mission. The social contract of medicine is clear: to serve, to protect life, and to heal both body and spirit. To serve also means standing with those on the margins—families who cannot afford medical treatment, mothers choosing between food and medicine, communities without access to decent health care.

Because to heal a patient is also to challenge the systems that fail them. To be a doctor is also to be an advocate. Heal not only the body, but the illnesses that plague our society.

You will practice medicine in a country wounded by poverty and inequality. Our country needs doctors who see not just disease, but the conditions that give rise to it. We need doctors who understand that the right to health is not separate from the right to live with dignity.

This is why the vision behind universal health care is so important. It is a moral commitment, a pledge that every Filipino will have access to quality care, regardless of status or wealth. But this vision needs you.

You carry St. Luke’s world-class training: skills, knowledge, and a prestige that few institutions can match. But remember: a doctor’s worth is not only measured by titles or salary, but by the lives they touch and save, the trust they build, the hope they restore.

Medicine is more than a science, more than a set of skills. It is a social act. Every patient you see is part of a family, a village, a community. They are not just bed numbers or case files or a disease. They stand before you with lives of their own, and their own stories to tell.

Kilalanin ang mga pasyente, hindi lamang bilang pasyente, kundi bilang tao.

The Doctor as Advocate

Every prescription you write, every decision you make, has consequences beyond your clinic or the operating room. When you diagnose with precision, comfort with kindness, and care with respect and empathy—you do more than just treat individuals. You strengthen the essence of public health: preventing crises, protecting families, and healing despair. Even in private settings, you are guardians of the public’s trust.

Some of you will specialize, or go to academia, research, or the pharmaceutical sector. Some will serve in public hospitals, or underserved communities. Or pursue cutting-edge research on combating disease or strengthening health systems. All of these are vital forms of service. Whatever you do, your role in shaping a healthier, more just society remains the same.

These are the crossroads before you. Some paths offer more comfort, others demand courage. I urge you: go where the need is greatest.

One of my classmates chose to return to her town to work at the community health center. Some said she was wasting her talent. But to me, hers was a life lived with dignity, shaped not by ambition, but by purpose.

Another college friend pursued a highly specialized field, built a successful practice, but opened his clinic to the poor, charging according to capacity to pay. His practice was not just a business—it was a form of redistributive justice.

Success is not only defined by wealth, prestige, or recognition. It is waking up each day and finding meaning in your work. Serving with integrity. Healing with kindness and compassion.

The Future of Medicine

In your lifetime, you will witness the transformation of medicine: artificial intelligence, robotics, genomics, data-driven care. These tools will profoundly change how we diagnose, treat, and prevent disease.

But never forget: no machine will hold the hand of a grieving parent. No device will feel the pain of a child who cannot breathe. No robot will sit beside a dying patient and offer comfort. That is your power. That is your gift.

A Charge to the Graduates

So as you go forward, I ask:

First, keep learning. Medicine will change in ways we can’t yet imagine. Stay curious. Ask hard questions. Keep up with evidence and new knowledge.

Second, practice fairness. Strive for access, for affordability and quality. Be transparent in cost. Avoid unnecessary treatments. Advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves.

Third, partner with communities. Collaborate with public health programs. Listen deeply to the people you serve. Engage with communities as partners in health.

Fourth, hold fast to your purpose. Heal the sick, stand with the vulnerable. Challenge the systems that leave the poor behind. Be not just healers, but defenders of dignity.

Finally, live by your values. Have courage to speak the truth, and do what is right. The philosopher Aldo Leopold said ethical behavior is “doing the right thing when no one is watching—even when doing the wrong thing is legal.”

Nurture your relationships—with your family, your mentors, your peers, and especially with the people who entrust you with their lives. Equally important is self-love, for it empowers you to see your worth, embrace your potential, and forgive your mistakes. Care for yourself, so you can continue to care for others.

Closing

Our health system—overburdened but hopeful—needs you. Our people—resilient, and struggling—need you. The promise of health care and dignity for all cannot be fulfilled without your expertise, your passion, and your conscience.

Graduates of St. Luke’s, you have been trained for excellence. Let that excellence shine not only in skill, but in service. Let your work be a quiet, daily act of love for this country and our people.

Congratulations, Doctors. At good luck sa darating na board exams!

Maraming salamat at mabuhay kayo.