Hektoen International

A Journal of Medical Humanities

Working abroad

Julius Montuerto
Lobogon, Duero, Bohol, Philippines

Sunset at the airport photo via PxHere.

Nursing school in the Philippines is among the most expensive undergraduate programs anyone can pursue. Having the opportunity to enroll in this program is a privilege and earning that nursing diploma guarantees financial stability—but only if we work abroad. Nurses in the Philippines are not well compensated. Every year, thousands of registered nurses from the Philippines try their luck in other countries where better salaries, job conditions, and opportunities exist.

It is common knowledge that after two years of working in our country, we should prepare for employment in the United States or Europe. This trend has become mainstream and is considered the most logical decision we can make. In first-world countries, there is no nurse-patient ratio exceeding twenty patients per nurse, nor are there overtime duties without pay—a reality Filipino nurses can only dream of.

The culture of working abroad is not a secret; it is embedded in our system. I have seen this in our curriculum, heard it from my mentors, and felt it as a nurse. My relatives, colleagues, and significant others have instilled in my mind that to succeed in this profession, I must leave my country and work abroad. Images online of nurses overseas have been a source of pride for their families left at home.

A few years ago, brain drain was a source of debate among Filipinos. Old books portrayed working abroad as wrong, claiming it threatened the quality of Filipino workers left behind and hindered economic growth. Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) back then were shamed as too ambitious and were guilted for choosing themselves before the country. But everything is different now. A shift in perspective has recast OFWs as the new heroes, and to be honest, they are indeed our new heroes.

I am aware of the benefits of working abroad, but if I stay, would I be seen as someone who served my country first, or as someone who failed to dream? Will my family be proud of my contentment, or will they abhor me for wasting the money they invested in my education? The thought of not living up to their expectations has been bugging me, and the guilt of knowing that someday I might disappoint them is something I cannot swallow.

My family is not rich—we struggled a lot back in the day. Though our life is better now, the expectation of an even better situation is still there. Though they haven’t verbalized it, I know they feel that way.

This morning, I talked to my mother. I summoned the courage to tell her everything that had been weighing on me for years. I was prepared to be scolded—I was expecting it. But to my surprise, I received a gentle response: “It’s up to you, son; we’re here to support you.” What followed was silence. Then she prepared my breakfast

The struggle I had had for years was resolved in a minute. The problem I thought was massive turned out to be amplified by my fears. From that experience, I realized that some of our problems only need to be communicated. I realized that the whole world may expect so much from us, but the real people who support us will only root for us.


JULIUS NIXELL B. MONTUERTO is from Lobogon, Duero, Bohol, Philippines. He graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing from Visayas State University and recently passed the Philippine Nursing Licensure Exam in November 2024. He aims to contribute to the nursing profession via patient-centered care and medical literature.

Submitted for the 2024–25 Nurse Essay Contest

Winter 2025

|

|

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.