There are many ways to write the story of Mio and Jasmine.  It could be the story of a young woman whose life suddenly takes a different turn.  It could be the story of a small boy’s fight against the big C. Or it could simply be the story of a mother’s love and her son’s strength.

“My sister always tells me that my problems are not unique; they are universal. I just happen to have a lot of them,” Jasmine Mendiola says with a smile over coffee one afternoon.

We laugh, though we both know there is nothing funny about it. After all, cancer is no laughing matter. Especially not when it is attacking your seven-year-old son.

At one point, the conversation veers toward hospital tests and needles. She talks about seeing the needle on her son’s arm; he was just five then, and yet he was already receiving chemo through intravenous and intrathecal methods, and the latter entailed putting a needle through his spine which required four local anaesthetic shots before the treatment.

I still can’t imagine how she has managed to get through it all—how she made it through that fateful day two years ago, when doctors diagnosed her son Mio, then five, with acute lymphocytic leukemia.

“In the beginning, it was mostly a blur of tears but, eventually, I realized that if my son is strong enough to face this, then mahiya naman ako sa sarili ko. I have to be strong for my son.”

I tell her that maybe he is strong because he doesn’t understand what is going on. Jasmine is quick to say that one thing she has never done to her son is lie to him. This probably explains why Mio talks about death as casually as he talks about Sponge Bob.

“Of course I get overwhelmed. But when I do, I ask for help,” Jasmine says. “When you are a parent, you can get a little arrogant and think you have to be able to handle it all. But now I realize that I can’t. The truth is, nobody can. And if I want to do what is right for Mio, then I have to learn to ask for help—from my family, from friends, from God.”

To say that motherhood has been very colorful for Jasmine is an understatement. She is the first to admit that since she is a single parent, Mio is being raised on a single income. Had everything been okay, health-wise, this probably would not have been much of an issue. But as it is, Jasmine’s savings were basically wiped out in his first two weeks in the hospital.

Fundraising projects

All sorts of projects have been created to fund the last two years of treatments, from Mio Mondays (a weekly benefit dinner at Pino Resto Bar that went on for four months); Mio cards and wrappers (using Mio’s artworks called “The Mio Alphabet” and last year’s “StART With Mio” exhibit series by artist Alessa Lanot); and even a Mio Fights Cancer Concert mounted by Maja Salvador and Denise Laurel. Both girls had never met Jasmine, but upon stumbling upon Mio’s story through a mutual friend, they decided to get involved.

It seems when it comes to finding the kindness in strangers, Jasmine has all the luck. Or perhaps it comes from her own willingness to extend herself in service to others. Case in point: After giving a talk to an NGO one day, she met one of the founders of the foundation. One thing led to another, and before she knew it, Cathay Pacific, with Make-a-Wish, had agreed to sponsor an all-expense-paid trip for the mother and son’s first ever visit to Disneyland HK.

I can’t figure out which is more painful, the chemotherapy or the pain of a mother who has to endure watching her son go through them. Even the normal cough and colds are enough to signal panic in the mother who worries about such things as increased susceptibility and lower blood counts.

And then there are the basics, such as education. “I have to work like a horse to meet tuition payments,” she tells me (Jasmine is a makeup artist-writer-style instructor at TrainStation and John Robert Powers Phils.).

In the beginning, she also had to worry about whether her son would be able to keep up with his peers, given that he would inevitably have to miss schooldays.

The most difficult thing was having to reassure a then bald Mio, about to enter big school, that nobody would make fun of him. Thankfully, nobody gave him a hard time, and before long, he was laughing while reading a line from one of the Filipino stories they had to read in school, “ang tatay mong kalbo.”

Jasmine made sure she would always be there to help Mio with his schoolwork (she works freelance to have more time to monitor her son), only to find out that he did not need her help after all. She proudly tells me the little boy is a consistent first-honor student. This led to Ateneo granting them much-appreciated financial assistance.

Point system

When we get to their home, I see his “points” board. Basically, the point system was instituted in their home to allow Mio to learn the value of the things he receives or asks for.

For example, to buy a toy worth P300, he has to earn 100 points through a number of ways listed on the board, such as taking a nap for more than an hour (2 points) or creating a work of art (5 points). If the toy is worth more, he will have to earn the corresponding amount of points.

Conversely, bad acts, such as tantrums or not finishing his food, lead to subtraction of points, aside from the other usual punishments like not being able to play video games or watch TV.

Mio also has the option of “redeeming” his points for different “coupons,” ranging from an extra five minutes of “cuddle time” in bed with his mom for 5 points, going past his bedtime for an additional 30 minutes for 15 points, buying a book for 20 points, or 10 games in Timezone for 30 points.

Jasmine explains that considering her son’s condition, it is so easy to spoil him and just allow him to throw tantrums or demand whatever he wants. “It’s painful to watch your son go through this. Masakit.”

Trying to compensate for the illness, one runs the risk of raising a spoiled child who feels he is entitled to everything simply because he is not well.

But Jasmine will have none of that nonsense. She is determined to raise not just a healthy boy but a responsible and good man.

Finally, before I leave, she shows me one last item. It is a book created especially for her, and which represents all that is truly essential in her life.

It has the lines, “Now days fill up with lunch boxes and laptops, cartoons and chemo. But hey, who’s complaining? Life has been good and love has been found.” She takes a long look around her and at Mio, then tells me, “Every day, I have something to be grateful for.”

I turn to look, as well. The more I see Mio, the less I see the cancer. Instead, I see a basketball-loving child who cheers for his favorite teams. I see a talented boy who paints beautiful landscapes and stills. I see a polite boy who shyly but obediently complies with his mother’s order for a kiss for both of us. I see Mio.

It doesn’t matter where or how this story starts or is told. What is essential is where life has brought them today, and how they are facing its challenges. And most importantly, how this will end.

There are two to three more years of treatments to be done. But with Mio’s strength, Jasmine’s love and the kindness of people all around, all will be well.

Learn more about how you can help Mio through www.miofightscancer.com or contact Jasmine at 0917-8005299.