Bolinao Medical Clinic

19/06/2025

Pawa Town Center

03/06/2025

No clinic from June 4 to 15. For emergencies please proceed to ER (SMMG; CGH; GGHI).

05/05/2025

Which generation do you belong?

05/05/2025

“The Silent Feast: A Story of Fatty Liver in Bicol”

There’s something about Bicol that stays with you. The scent of kinunot simmering with gata, the slow burn of siling labuyo creeping up the back of your throat, and the kind of hospitality that doesn’t ask questions — it just feeds you.

But behind the tables heavy with crispy lechon, sweet pili tarts, and endless rice refills, there's a quiet threat nobody talks about. Fatty liver.
It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t scream. It just sits there — growing silently with every extra plate, every missed check-up, every “bukas na lang.”

In Matnog or Daraga, or any town where pagkaon is celebration, it’s easy to forget the liver takes the hit. And by the time you feel it, it's already knocking on the door with complications.

So here's the deal:
Alagaan an atay mo — bantayi an fatty liver habang maaga pa.
Because if there’s anything I’ve learned from years of eating across the world, it's this: the real flavor of life isn’t in the feast, it’s in the moments that follow — the laughter, the walks home, the stories shared over a cup of kape.

And none of that happens if you’re sick.

Bolinao Medical Clinic isn’t asking you to give up bicol express or your sinantolan.
They’re just asking you to know your body.
Screening for fatty liver isn’t weakness — it’s knowing when to pause, and when to fight back.

Because the best stories? They need you around to tell them.

03/05/2025

No clinic from May 5 to 7. For emergencies please proceed to ER (SMMG; CGH; GGHI).

15/04/2025

Maintenance mo tutulong ako. Please contact us for more details...

15/04/2025

Now available...

07/04/2025

Now accepting reservations...

04/04/2025

https://www.facebook.com/share/16LAEqWcEY/

Your medicine at your doorstep

01/02/2025

**The Patient Doctor Who Got a Taste**

I’ve been a doctor long enough to think I understand my patients. Their fears, their pain, their frustration—I get it. Or so I thought. But then I became the patient, and let’s just say, humility slapped me in the face like an overcooked steak thrown by an angry line cook.

It started with my shoulder. Frozen, stubborn, unyielding. A war wound from my misguided attempt to reclaim my former glory. I tried to push through, but pain laughed in my face. A steroid shot? Might as well have been holy water against a demon. The pain remained, and in my impatience, I signed up for an MRI, assuming it would be a quick, no-big-deal kind of thing.

Fifteen minutes, right? In and out.

Wrong. Try an hour.

The tech slid me into the tube, and at first, I played it cool. I’ve done 36-hour shifts, performed surgeries running on fumes andand caffeine—this was nothing. But then it hit me. The walls weren’t walls. They were closing in. My arm throbbed in protest, screaming louder than a kitchen meltdown during dinner rush. My mind? Betrayed me. I imagined getting stuck, the machine malfunctioning, my frozen shoulder snapping off like a chicken wing in a bad kitchen accident.

Thirty minutes in, I caved. Squeezed the panic button like a rookie chef gripping their first knife. “Just finishing this current view, Doc,” came the tech’s voice, calm, unbothered. Easy for him to say—he wasn’t the one suffocating in this mechanical coffin.

When they finally yanked me out, I got a ketorolac shot, and suddenly, life was worth living again. Pain-free and emboldened, I hopped back in, convinced this round would be smooth. Ten minutes later, my mind went off the rails. What if I sneezed and ruined the scan? What if the machine sucked me into a parallel universe where I was still waiting for this MRI to end?

To cope, I counted. Then the tech chimed in—“Nine more minutes, Doc.” Nine minutes? That’s 540 seconds. I decided I’d count to 600, just to be safe. By 400, I was cooked. Switched to prayers—Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be—like a desperate line cook begging for a miracle during a dinner rush. I don’t know how many times I recited them, but it worked.

When the ordeal finally ended, I stumbled out of that machine with a newfound respect for every single patient I’ve ever sent for an MRI.

To my patients: I get it now. I truly do. And to every doctor out there still clueless? You will learn. It’s only a matter of time.

Empathy: hard-earned.

12/08/2024

Join Our Team as an Executive Assistant!

Are you organized, proactive, and ready to grow your career? We're looking for a talented Executive Assistant to support our leadership team.

WHY JOIN US?
Career Growth: Clear paths for advancement.
Professional Development: Continuous learning and mentorship.
Impactful Work: Play a key role in our operations.
Collaborative Team: Supportive and motivated environment.

KEY RESPONSIBILITIES:
Manage schedules, meetings, and travel plans.
Communicate with internal and external stakeholders.
Handle confidential information with integrity.
Support projects and prioritize tasks efficiently.

Apply Today and Advance Your Career!

07/07/2024

Please be informed that the clinic will be closed from July 8 to July 10. Services will resume on July 15. Thank you for your understanding.