MALACAÑANG MEDICAL BULLETIN: PATIENT IS ‘FINE,’ SYMPTOMS INCLUDE DENIAL

From skipped events to recycled photos: The official diagnosis is trust issues.

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — April 7, 2026

THERE are illnesses that attack the body.
And then there are illnesses that attack the truth.

Malacañang insists that is “definitely well.” Which, in the Philippine political lexicon, is a phrase with a long and distinguished medical history—usually uttered moments before the nation discovers otherwise.

“Definitely well,” they say, as the President skips a morning event, resurfaces in the afternoon, and posts what appears to be a family photo that has aged more gracefully than the public’s patience.

But perhaps we are being unfair. After all, the Palace has a point. The President did attend an oath-taking. And nothing says peak physical condition like standing upright, shaking hands, and smiling for cameras calibrated to optimism.

**FLATLINE REPUBLIC**
***The Palace reports normal vitals. The monitor disagrees.***

THE DIAGNOSIS: ACUTE PUBLIC SKEPTICISM

The real outbreak here is not . That, as the President himself assures us, is common—like traffic, corruption, and press briefings that answer everything except the question asked.

No, the spreading condition is something far more contagious: institutional disbelief.

It begins innocently:

A missed event here
A recycled photo there
A hospitalization quietly filed under “routine”

Soon, the symptoms worsen:

“He looks thinner.”
“That video seems old.”
“Who’s really in charge?”

And before long, the entire republic is self-medicating on rumor.

THE PRESCRIPTION: TRUST US (SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE DOUBT)

Enter the Palace, armed with its most potent pharmaceutical: the Blanket Denial™.

“He is fine.”

No charts. No timelines. No details. Just a statement so sterile it could pass any infection control protocol—except the one that matters: credibility.

Because in this country, “He is fine” has historically meant:

He is not fine
We will not say why
You will find out eventually

Ask , whose medical records were treated like state secrets until they became historical footnotes during the .

Ask anyone who has lived long enough to know that in Philippine politics, transparency is often administered only post-mortem.

THE SECOND OPINION: FACEBOOK, MD

Of course, the Palace is correct about one thing: social media is a cesspool.

Unfortunately, it is also where many Filipinos now go for second opinions—because official channels have a habit of diagnosing trust as the problem rather than its absence.

So the public scrolls:

Grainy screenshots become X-rays
Old photos become forensic evidence
Comment sections become medical boards

And somewhere between hysteria and intuition, a question lingers:

If everything is normal, why does nothing feel normal?

THE SILENT SYMPTOM: POWER VACUUM

Here is the part they won’t put in the bulletin.

Health rumors are never just about health. They are about power.

When a president disappears—even briefly—people don’t just ask “Is he okay?”

They ask:

Who is making decisions?
Who benefits from silence?
Who is rehearsing for succession?

Because in a system built on personalities rather than institutions, the body of the president is not just flesh and bone—it is infrastructure.

And when infrastructure cracks, even slightly, everyone hears it.

THE LAB RESULTS: HISTORY REPEATING, WITH BETTER LIGHTING

We have seen this film before.

A leader falls ill.
The Palace denies.
The public doubts.
The truth leaks—slowly, reluctantly, inevitably.

The only thing that changes is resolution. The cameras are sharper now. The denials more polished. The rumors faster.

But the script?

Unchanged.

THE FINAL PROGNOSIS

Perhaps the President is, in fact, perfectly healthy.

But here is the uncomfortable truth:

In the Philippines, a healthy president can still produce a sick system—one where information is rationed, trust is brittle, and transparency is treated like an optional supplement rather than a constitutional requirement.

So the Palace may continue its updates:

“He is fine.”
“He is working.”
“He is strong.”

And the public will continue its own quiet diagnosis:

“We’ve heard that before.”