Even Death Could Defeat The Immortal Ivan
By Alex P. Vidal
Ivan Palma Suansing held the distinction of being the first editor-in-chief of two leading dailies in Western Visayas—Daily INFORMER (1993-94) and Sun.Star Iloilo (1994-1997).
I’ve known Ivan since 1987, the year when we both represented Western Visayas to the National Press Congress in Baguio City (Ricky Abaleña, now West Visayas State University Mass Communications professor was with us) where Ivan amassed a total of nine (9) gold medals in the on-the-spot writing competition, a feat that still stands until today.
When we both entered the community journalism a year later, I joined the fledgling News Express which opened in March 1988, Ivan joined the more “elite” Western Visayas Daily Times (now Sun.Star Iloilo)
I joined Ivan’s paper in 1992 upon invitation of publisher Marcos Villalon until 1993, the year when Ivan became editor-in-chief of the newly-born Daily INFORMER.
After two years, Ivan left to become the editor-in-chief of Sun.Star Iloilo. As in the previous merry-go-round, we were reunited once again when Sun.Star management offered me the post of associate editor.
While in Sun.Star, Ivan was also correspondent of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. When he again invited me to join the PDI (there was another slot available for Iloilo correspondent), I declined because of my commitments with the World Boxing Federation (WBF). The slot went to the more prolific and diligent Nereo C. Lujan.
In 1997, Ivan again invited me to join him, this time in Cebu City where PDI was to open a local daily, the Cebu Daily News.
Since the transfer would mean possible permanent residency, I opted to stay and took over as editor-in-chief of Sun.Star Iloilo. Before death snatched him away early on Thursday morning, September 29, Ivan Palma Suansing must have seen its silhouette coming.
From the last column he wrote for the Cebu Daily News entitled “Don’t Play God” dated September 26, 2005, Ivan must have prepared for his long journey in the afterlife.
“I spent practically the whole of December 2001 in the hospital, laboring through two operations, countless tests, needle pricks, hallucinogenic painkillers, excruciating pain I never felt or imagined before and extreme hunger. I wasn't allowed to eat anything -- my maxillary bone was broken and put back into place with a metal plate that is still there -- only to drink water and juices.
“I stared death in the face too. Its specter was there every night, lurking in one corner of the room, silently waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally, I broke down: "I'm not going with you," I exclaimed in a horrible, ghastly voice made unrecognizable by a brace that fixed my teeth and made opening my mouth as difficult as standing up. My perplexed wife, who never left my side throughout this unbearable ordeal, sat up and looked around. She sobbed, knowing what was going on.
“But death, they say, strikes like a thief in the night. In my case, it came back just a few days after my doctor had allowed me to go home. One early morning, just as I thought I was on the way to complete recovery, I woke up to the clammy feel of a pillow that had soaked up blood, a lot of blood. A small bone that my doctor was trying to save had just fallen off.
“For two hours, I hemorrhaged nonstop, and often had to pluck fistfuls of blood clots from my mouth so I could breathe. Had not Tonee, a colleague, friend and neighbor, arrived and driven me back to the hospital in the nick of time, I could have been history. When he saw me, he swore I was already looking like a ghost, shuddering like a chicken in the throes of death. I had lost more than two liters of blood.
”With the wound closed and blood transfused, I asked myself later on: Was I just hallucinating, or was it really Death that I saw?
“That life-changing experience has taught me the value and unpredictability of life, and to appreciate my own mortality. You're here today, but maybe gone tomorrow. You're on top of the world now, but maybe six feet underground the next moment.
“But that, ladies and gentlemen, is only for God, not for any self-righteous vigilante group or its patrons, to decide on.”
Ivan was no ordinary mortal. Memory is a form of immortality. Those you remember never die. They continue to walk and talk with you; their influence is with you always.
Memory is our link with the centuries. All that men have remembered and set down in print through the ages is a precious legacy we do. The miracle of memory gives continuity to life.
But death, in the end, could defeat even the immortal Ivan. /MP mailto:madyaas_pen@yahoo.com
By Alex P. Vidal
Ivan Palma Suansing held the distinction of being the first editor-in-chief of two leading dailies in Western Visayas—Daily INFORMER (1993-94) and Sun.Star Iloilo (1994-1997).
I’ve known Ivan since 1987, the year when we both represented Western Visayas to the National Press Congress in Baguio City (Ricky Abaleña, now West Visayas State University Mass Communications professor was with us) where Ivan amassed a total of nine (9) gold medals in the on-the-spot writing competition, a feat that still stands until today.
When we both entered the community journalism a year later, I joined the fledgling News Express which opened in March 1988, Ivan joined the more “elite” Western Visayas Daily Times (now Sun.Star Iloilo)
I joined Ivan’s paper in 1992 upon invitation of publisher Marcos Villalon until 1993, the year when Ivan became editor-in-chief of the newly-born Daily INFORMER.
After two years, Ivan left to become the editor-in-chief of Sun.Star Iloilo. As in the previous merry-go-round, we were reunited once again when Sun.Star management offered me the post of associate editor.
While in Sun.Star, Ivan was also correspondent of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. When he again invited me to join the PDI (there was another slot available for Iloilo correspondent), I declined because of my commitments with the World Boxing Federation (WBF). The slot went to the more prolific and diligent Nereo C. Lujan.
In 1997, Ivan again invited me to join him, this time in Cebu City where PDI was to open a local daily, the Cebu Daily News.
Since the transfer would mean possible permanent residency, I opted to stay and took over as editor-in-chief of Sun.Star Iloilo. Before death snatched him away early on Thursday morning, September 29, Ivan Palma Suansing must have seen its silhouette coming.
From the last column he wrote for the Cebu Daily News entitled “Don’t Play God” dated September 26, 2005, Ivan must have prepared for his long journey in the afterlife.
“I spent practically the whole of December 2001 in the hospital, laboring through two operations, countless tests, needle pricks, hallucinogenic painkillers, excruciating pain I never felt or imagined before and extreme hunger. I wasn't allowed to eat anything -- my maxillary bone was broken and put back into place with a metal plate that is still there -- only to drink water and juices.
“I stared death in the face too. Its specter was there every night, lurking in one corner of the room, silently waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally, I broke down: "I'm not going with you," I exclaimed in a horrible, ghastly voice made unrecognizable by a brace that fixed my teeth and made opening my mouth as difficult as standing up. My perplexed wife, who never left my side throughout this unbearable ordeal, sat up and looked around. She sobbed, knowing what was going on.
“But death, they say, strikes like a thief in the night. In my case, it came back just a few days after my doctor had allowed me to go home. One early morning, just as I thought I was on the way to complete recovery, I woke up to the clammy feel of a pillow that had soaked up blood, a lot of blood. A small bone that my doctor was trying to save had just fallen off.
“For two hours, I hemorrhaged nonstop, and often had to pluck fistfuls of blood clots from my mouth so I could breathe. Had not Tonee, a colleague, friend and neighbor, arrived and driven me back to the hospital in the nick of time, I could have been history. When he saw me, he swore I was already looking like a ghost, shuddering like a chicken in the throes of death. I had lost more than two liters of blood.
”With the wound closed and blood transfused, I asked myself later on: Was I just hallucinating, or was it really Death that I saw?
“That life-changing experience has taught me the value and unpredictability of life, and to appreciate my own mortality. You're here today, but maybe gone tomorrow. You're on top of the world now, but maybe six feet underground the next moment.
“But that, ladies and gentlemen, is only for God, not for any self-righteous vigilante group or its patrons, to decide on.”
Ivan was no ordinary mortal. Memory is a form of immortality. Those you remember never die. They continue to walk and talk with you; their influence is with you always.
Memory is our link with the centuries. All that men have remembered and set down in print through the ages is a precious legacy we do. The miracle of memory gives continuity to life.
But death, in the end, could defeat even the immortal Ivan. /MP mailto:madyaas_pen@yahoo.com
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