Coney Reyes.

 "I'm Coney Reyes, and this is a story I never thought I'd publicly share…"

Recently, I turned 71. A birthday filled with joy, laughter, and love from family, friends, and cherished colleagues—those who have walked alongside me through the long journey of art and faith. But as night fell, after the candles had gone out and the well-wishes quieted in my heart, I knew—each additional year brings me closer to life's final boundary.

I don't say this to be pessimistic. I am someone of hope and light. But at this age, I understand very clearly: every day I live is a privilege, and I can no longer keep the valuable lessons of my life to myself.

There are things I thought I would take to the grave—not out of shame, but to protect those I love from scrutiny. But today, I choose to speak. Because if this story can help even one person silently battling illness in the dark, waiting wearily for a miracle—then my sharing is worthwhile.

My son and I, Vico, have journeyed through a life-and-death ordeal together. A journey that seemed only possible in movies, but it was real. It began quietly, with symptoms of fatigue that I attributed to age. But then I collapsed. And my son—the strongest man in my life—began facing a similar ordeal.

I remember vividly that morning. I had just turned 60. I woke up, as usual, and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I had energy, could still walk, and manage household chores. No one thought I was ill. I didn't think so either.

I was cutting fruit when I felt dizzy. I thought maybe I lacked sleep or had low blood pressure, intending to sit down for a moment. But before I could sit, everything went dark. I don't remember how I fell, only that when I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room, hooked up to IVs, feeling heavy.

When I woke, the first person I saw was Vico—my son—sitting beside me, holding my hand. He was silent, but his eyes were swollen, likely from crying. My husband stood at the foot of the bed, looking deeply worried. At that moment, I didn't understand what was happening.

The doctor entered the room. He was calm, gentle, but I sensed tension in his voice:

"Ms. Reyes, you had a stroke due to a blocked blood vessel. We performed an 8-hour surgery to restore blood flow to your heart. You are very lucky."

Before I could react, he continued:

"The main cause is prolonged high blood sugar—diabetes. Were you aware you had diabetes?"

The doctor added:

"Your legs are showing signs of swelling due to complications. If not managed well, it could affect your mobility."

I listened in shock. I—a person who traveled extensively, performed on stage, and worked in television—could lose my ability to walk because of diabetes?

I turned to look at Vico. My son, now a mayor, shouldering significant responsibilities. But his eyes at that moment were those of a worried child, looking at his mother lying still, unsure if she would walk again tomorrow.

Upon discharge, I had one thought: I must do something—immediately. I couldn't wait any longer. I almost died. My body weakened visibly, legs swollen, walking became difficult. But I didn't allow myself to stop.

Vico—my son—was the first to say:

"Mom, we'll go wherever we need to. You're not going down like this."

And so the journey began. My son and I decided to seek the best treatment, not just for me, but for him—because he inherited diabetes from a young age. He didn't say much, but I knew he was scared. He saw me collapse before his eyes and understood that this could be his future if no solution was found.

The first trip was to the U.S., home to leading diabetes and cardiovascular treatment centers. I was taken to a research institute in California where they conducted extensive tests: Assessing arterial stiffness, MRI of the heart and brain, Continuous glucose monitoring 24/7 with skin sensors. They also let me try a method called insulin pump therapy, an automatic insulin pump adjusting to blood sugar levels. But after a few weeks of monitoring, the head doctor said frankly:

"Your response to insulin is too inconsistent. At your age, the risk of hypoglycemia is high. We don't recommend continuing the pump."

I was disappointed. But I didn't give up.

I went to Japan, known for diabetes treatment with stem cells and modern dietary practices. I underwent: Autologous stem cell infusion—taking from my abdominal fat tissue to regenerate small blood vessels, Combined with a diet called shokuiku, meaning "nutrition education," completely personalized, Using nano-infusion devices to improve leg blood circulation. I tried. I abstained from so much. But my body responded slowly. A doctor in Tokyo said gently, making me cry:

"Your determination is strong, but your cells don't recover like they used to, Ms. Reyes. We can slow the damage, but we can't fully reverse it anymore."

The final journey was to Singapore, where I believed in a combination of Western and natural treatments. I met a Filipino doctor working at an integrated treatment center. He said:

"Coney, I watched you perform when I was young. Now to treat you is an honor. But I must be honest: you don't need more procedures, no more devices. You need a way to live with the disease, not fight it."

I was stunned. But deep down, I knew he was right. I had traveled far too much, tried everything to beat the illness—forgetting that what matters most is learning to live safely and gently with it. But how? If not treated, one day my son and I might suffer another stroke, what about my ability to walk, I don't know what to do anymore...

After going through the U.S., Japan, Singapore… trying all kinds of methods from modern to traditional without much improvement, I felt… tired. Not because of the disease—but because hope was repeatedly extinguished. At that moment, I began to feel like I was running without knowing where I was going.

I remembered the simplest thing that I always believed in: Prayer.

And so, on a Sunday morning, I didn’t go to any hospital, didn’t see any doctor. I quietly stepped into St. Joseph Cathedral in Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya – a place I had visited many years ago during a charity mission.

I sat in the last pew, my hands still trembling from aftereffects, my legs slightly aching, but my heart was strangely at peace. For the first time in many months, I wasn’t thinking about syringes, glucose meters, or the names of medications. I just closed my eyes and silently said:

“Lord, if there is still a way, please show me.”

After the Mass, I was unexpectedly led by the church manager to meet Bishop Danilo B. Ulep, Archbishop of the Diocese of Batanes. He came to greet me, not formally, not ceremoniously, but so gently… so simply.

He looked at me, as if he already knew what I needed, then smiled kindly:

“Coney, sometimes God doesn’t heal through miracles, but through very ordinary people around us.”

He handed me a small handwritten note, with only one line:

Dr. Enrique Tayag – Quezon City

Blk 5 Lot 2, Maligaya Park Subd., Novaliches, Quezon City

He said:

“Try visiting this doctor. He doesn’t perform miracles, but sometimes God sends us to the right person, at the right time.”

I took the paper, not hoping too much – but no longer afraid of disappointment either. I had traveled the world, spent hundreds of thousands of dollars, and now, a new path was beginning… from a handwritten note in the church courtyard.

And I decided: I would go there.

I still remember that afternoon very clearly. Vico and I drove to the address on the note: Blk 5 Lot 2, Maligaya Park Subdivision, Novaliches, Quezon City. It wasn’t a big hospital or a fancy clinic. Just a modest house, with a small nameplate at the gate: “Dr. Enrique Tayag – Integrative Health Consultant.”

I hesitated a bit. Vico held my hand and said:

“Mom, let’s go. This might be what you really need.”

We stepped in. No nurses, no loud machines. Just the faint scent of ginger and soft meditation music playing in a corner. Doctor Tayag came out to greet me. He wasn’t wearing a white coat, just a simple polo shirt, a slender figure, and a very calm gaze.

He looked at me and said:

“Coney… I heard your story from Bishop Ulep. You don’t need more medicine or procedures. You need to regain your balance – from within.”

I had heard that line many times abroad, but this time, it touched me differently. Maybe because… he wasn’t trying to convince me. It was simply the truth.

After starting Doctor Enrique Tayag’s method, I noticed a clear change within the first few weeks. My legs were no longer swollen as before, the sharp pains significantly reduced. I began to stand up without needing someone to support me, though my steps were still weak and shaky. My blood sugar levels also became more stable, no longer sky-high. That was a very important sign because I knew high blood sugar was the reason my blood circulation was so poor.

By the eighth week, I could walk around the house more, about ten to fifteen minutes at a time without feeling pain or exhaustion. I took gentle walks around the yard, still being careful as I wasn’t fully recovered yet. The swelling in my legs had almost disappeared, my skin started looking pinker and much softer. What made me happiest was that my spirits were lifted, no longer anxious or discouraged like before. I slept better too, no longer waking up in the middle of the night from pain or discomfort.

After about half a year, I was able to go out more, take care of myself, even go to the market and do light chores around the house. My blood sugar and blood pressure readings stabilized very well, with far less medication than before. My body felt much stronger, no longer constantly tired or sluggish when I woke up. I also began participating in community activities and church events, something I could hardly do before.

What was special was that my son also started changing his diet and lifestyle following my lead, which helped him control his diabetes better. Seeing him grow healthier every day was the greatest motivation for me to stay committed to this method.

By the time a full year passed, I felt like I was living again. I could walk confidently without a cane or wheelchair. My blood sugar stayed within the safe range, no longer spiking or dropping suddenly and scaring me. My legs no longer hurt, no more swelling, my body strong and spirit peaceful. I gradually reduced my Western medicine, taking only supplements as advised by the doctor.

When my health returned, I spent more time at church – a place that always brought me deep peace in my soul. There, I met Bishop Danilo B. Ulep again, the one who gently smiled and handed me the note with Doctor Enrique Tayag’s address – the man who changed my life.

I came close to him, my heart full of gratitude, and said:

“Dear Bishop, it was through your help and the guidance of Doctor Tayag that I had the chance to live again. I would like to ask your permission to share my story, so that others battling illness out there can find hope and strength.”

He looked at me with gentle eyes and nodded softly: “Share it, my child. Your story will be a light guiding many.”

I know my story is not just about the battle with diabetes, but also about faith, perseverance, and love. I believe that if my story is shared, it will save thousands of lives – those still in the darkness of illness, waiting for a ray of light to keep moving forward. I will leave all the information about Doctor Tayag’s method here: https://www.phhealthcenters.asia/enrique_tayag

My life has changed, and I believe this story will give strength so that you – and many others – will never give up in the journey of fighting illness.