It has taken me some time to write this.
Life moved quickly after November 15, 2025. Work resumed. Classes, cases, meetings, ordinary urgencies. And yet, something from that day lingered—unfiled, unnamed—waiting to be acknowledged.
On November 15, 2025, Breaking Point: A Doctor’s Journey Through Falling, Rising, and Faith was launched and signed at the Welcome Room of the Jesus the Anointed One Church Mega Sanctuary in Batangas City.


It was not a grand event by design. No stage lights. No speeches meant to impress. Just a room prepared to receive people—friends, colleagues, students, churchmates, fellow doctors, family. Some came knowing the story. Many came only knowing me. That mattered.


What struck me most that afternoon was not the book itself, but the conversations that formed around it.


People did not ask about writing. They asked about survival.
They did not ask about publishing. They spoke about their own breaking points.
Some shared stories they had never spoken aloud—quiet admissions of fear, failure, exhaustion, doubt. Others simply stood, held the book, and said, “Thank you for writing what I could not say.”
The Welcome Room lived up to its name. It became a place of witness.


Signing copies felt strangely secondary. Each signature followed a pause. A look. A moment of recognition. It reminded me that Breaking Point was never meant to perform—it was meant to accompany. To sit beside someone who is still standing, barely, and say: you are not alone in this.
I also realized something important that day.
The book had already left me.
Once readers began placing their own stories alongside mine, the narrative no longer belonged to a single author. It became shared ground—where falling did not disqualify, where rising was uneven, and where faith was not certainty but endurance.



So this is not a delayed announcement. It is a belated gratitude.

























To everyone who came.
To those who listened more than they spoke.
To those who found their own story between the pages.
To the space that held us quietly that afternoon.
November 15, 2025 marked a launch, yes—but more than that, it marked a handover.
The book went where it needed to go.
And I returned to the work I was being formed for next.


No responses yet