𝒫𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹

I still remember the first time I walked through the corridors of a hospital here in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was nervous, wide-eyed, and unsure of what to expect. As a Filipino nurse working abroad, I was prepared for the usual—overcrowded wards, understocked pharmacies, families in quiet despair trying to pay bills they couldn’t afford.

Just days ago, I was on a video call with my mother. We talked about many things, but then she brought up a memory that struck me deeply: my younger brother, years ago, when he got sick and had to undergo surgery. I remember the fear in our voices, the weight of every hospital bill, the uncertainty that shadowed each passing day. My family had to pool what little we had just to keep things going. We were grateful for the surgery, but the cost left a wound of its own, one that took months, if not years, to heal.

And now, standing here in this Kingdom, witnessing how healthcare is delivered with dignity and compassion, I realize just how much that memory shaped my perspective.

Here, healthcare is not a luxury. It’s a promise. A right. A commitment that the Kingdom has made to its people.

Citizens receive full access to free healthcare. From the moment they step into the hospital to the final prescription handed over at discharge, they pay nothing. Consultations, lab tests, operations, and even medications are completely free. And if a specific treatment isn’t available here, they don’t hesitate. They medevac the patient to another country. Imagine that—a government saying: If we can’t treat you here, we’ll fly you to where you can be treated. And we’ll pay for everything.

And they do it.

What struck me even more was that this generosity isn’t only for Saudis. Government-employed residents, like many of us working in the healthcare sector, receive the same privilege. We’re included in a circle of care that sees no borders. It’s a rare kind of dignity that not many foreign workers experience.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve handled medications here and instinctively checked the price in Philippine pesos. One vial of medication that’s handed out freely here would cost tens of thousands back home. Some would even cost a fortune, money a normal Filipino family could never afford. I’ve seen patients airlifted here for emergencies, something that, in the Philippines, would cost millions of pesos. A price so high, most people wouldn’t even consider it an option.

But in this Kingdom, it happens every day. Quietly. Without fuss. Without debt. Without despair.

What makes it even more admirable is that even after achieving such a high standard of care, the Kingdom doesn’t stop there. They continue to push forward, investing in research, medical innovation, and advanced technologies. From embracing artificial intelligence in diagnostics to supporting global health partnerships and pioneering genetic research, Saudi Arabia continues to evolve and explore ways to give more to its people. Even with a healthcare system already rooted in generosity, they continue to ask: What more can we offer? How can we do better?

That mindset… that relentless drive to serve their people better… it humbled me.

Back home in the Philippines, people sell their homes, take on debt, or rely on fundraising sites just to stay alive. It hurts to see families choose between buying medicine or food. To think of how many mothers, fathers, children suffer simply because they were born in a place that couldn’t give them the care they deserved.

And here I am, in a country where people are flown across borders to get the treatment they need. Where medicine is not a financial burden. Where no one has to choose between healing and surviving.

Sometimes, it honestly feels like a dream.

I don’t write this to compare countries with resentment. I write it with hope. Hope that one day, my homeland will find a way to prioritize its people’s health the way this Kingdom does. I hope that, one day, we’ll stop measuring life by how much money someone can raise but by how quickly we can help them heal.

Until then, I will continue my work as a nurse, now with eyes wide open. I carry this experience with me not just as a worker, but as a witness. And I know, without a doubt, that I’ve served in a land that truly knows how to care.