‘Salubsob’
I am still reeling from a hospital bill I got a few days ago for my son’s three-day confinement, involving surgery for a “pyogenic flexor tenosynovitis” of the right index finger.
Pyogenic means a condition involving pus (“nana” in Filipino), which means an infection with localized inflammation. The surgical treatment meant having to incise the wound, drain it of pus, and treat it with antibiotics.
Let’s rewind the story a bit. My son, who is turning 20 this year, doesn’t live with me but shows up in times of need. This early morning drop-in looked truly serious. He was clearly in pain, and his right index finger had been self-treated with an oversized bandage.
Long story short, he said it was “salubsob,” and I nodded, sort of knowing and not knowing what it was—one of many local terms used to refer to injuries. I asked how he got it, and he mentioned a “grinder,” which got me thinking of one of his cousins who worked as a cook’s assistant and had an accident with a grinder not too long ago, costing him three fingers (I hope you are not having breakfast).
Flexor synovitis is an inflammation of the area around a tendon that allows you to bend a body part, like a finger.
I continued probing about my son’s injury. “Like your cousin?” I asked, and being the family joker, my son assured me, “Lost one only.”
Ten minutes later, we were in the emergency room, where the admitting staff offered me a wheelchair and kept asking me how the accident happened. I told my son to make sure to guard me well, or I might end up in surgery. (Some of you will remember I had a stroke in February, and I still walk with a cane.)
We finally clarified matters, managing never to refer to pyogenic flexor tenosynovitis or index fingers. What did come out in the conversations was salubsob and when you have a male teenage patient, the patient’s narratives (and those of accompanying relatives, friends, and, were it possible, pets) can get mixed up with all kinds of other diagnoses of battle wounds, but I’ll spare you those stories. (I have my share too—far more gross, and funny, than his.)
But let’s get back to the medical diagnostics.
Does pyogenic tenosynovitis bear any resemblance to salubsob? Of course not. The first time I heard salubsob I thought it was another variation of “pancit.”
The medical examination continued, with someone from orthopedics and all kinds of tests and finally the verdict: surgery was needed.
Fast forward: my son was admitted, had the surgery, and is now in home care.
So what is this salubsob? I looked up the term in Jose Villa Panganiban’s classic Filipino dictionary-thesaurus, published in 1973, where the first definition was incredibly simple: “sliver.” There are many more related words listed in other Philippine languages—for example, “salugsóg” in Bikol and various Visayan languages. “Bislak” and “sulap” are listed for Ilokano.
My son’s salubsob evoked memories from my many childhood experiences with “tinik,” various thorns, splinters, and wow, I learned to truly dread fish and fish bones. Being from a mixed cultural background, I also picked up all kinds of explanations about these tinik ordeals and their cures. I’ve had improvised “rescue” gadgets (all the way up to the blunt end of chopsticks) poked into my throat, or been asked to swallow pieces of banana or other fruits without chewing, and hoping the lodged tinik would end up being swallowed.
Once, while doing rural volunteer work, a tinik lodged in my throat got half the barangay mobilized to locate the town’s tinik expert, whose main qualification was being born breech (“suhi,” or feet first). The rationale was that a person born in the wrong position would be the best person to extricate a wayward thorn, splinter, or whatever).
Alas, my son’s salubsob trauma was much more complicated and expensive. I don’t remember any professional fees from my “tinikology” specialist, but I do remember how quick and adept he was. All he did was pass one hand across my throat with some gentle manipulation. Oh, I forgot to mention that many of these traditional experts would also use a cat to assist in the operation, cats being associated with preternatural powers.
I have to say I’ve never encountered people—patients or healers—blaming tinik accidents on the supernatural. In a nation so obsessed with and fearful of sorcery (“kulam”), I’m surprised we haven’t had politicians blaming sorcerers for their ill luck and congressional coups.
But who knows, maybe someday we’ll hear of experts able to handle more serious salubsob with more elaborate rituals, hopefully without gunfire. I also hope the “medical” interventions will be much more affordable. I won’t give you the amount I’m saving for my next credit card bill’s salubsob charges, except to say it involved six digits. Oh well, six digits to save one finger.
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