More Than Medicine: FANAS Delivers Care, Connection, and Hope in Palawan

Palawan, an archipelagic province of the Philippines, is known for its coastline, clear waters, quiet towns, and the kind of natural beauty that feels untouched. But, beyond the shoreline, access to consistent healthcare remains limited, especially in rural communities like Narra. 

It was here, from Feb. 23-27, 2026, that the Filipino American Nurse Anesthesiology Society (FANAS) launched its inaugural medical mission. With a team of more than 130 volunteers, including Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetists (CRNAs), nurses, and surgeons—FANAS provided free medical, dental, and surgical services to more than 1,600 people who might not otherwise receive care. 

Over the course of the week, the team moved through surgical, medical, and dental services, spanning several specialties including pediatrics, ENT, gynecology, and general surgery. These life-changing surgeries and procedures addressed conditions long left untreated, and consultations offered patients answers they previously had no access to. 

Beyond the hospital, the mission extended into the broader community. Volunteers organized a blood drive, trained barangay (village) health workers and midwives in CPR and basic life support, and distributed meals and school supplies to children. 

Delivering anesthesia in a resource-limited setting required more than clinical expertise. It demanded adaptability, coordination, and the ability to maintain patient safety under constantly evolving conditions. 

“We had several moving parts, but everything fell into place,” Mylene Supan, MSN, APRN, CRNA, FANAS Executive Secretary and mission trip organizer, said. “I think it was because of who we are. We had the skill set. We had the passion. We made it happen.” 

She continued, “This is the biggest CRNA-led and CRNA-driven mission trip, supported by an all-CRNA anesthesia team.”

CRNAs are trained to adapt, lead, and step into complexity without hesitation. In Palawan, that flexibility was essential. Supplies were limited, and the team assembled operating rooms in real-time. In some cases, two operating tables stood side by side. 

And still, the standard of care never shifted. 

“We had to make do and adjust,” Supan said. “There were moments where we had to think on our feet, but there was not a single complication.” 

“Not once did we compromise safety,” Dan Lovinaria, DNP, MBA, APRN, CRNA, CHSE, FNAP, FAANA, FAAN, a former president of FANAS, added. “We worked with what we had, but we never compromised.” 

The scale and complexity of the mission defined its impact. However, for many of the volunteers, the experience carried an additional layer of meaning. 

Some had not been back to the Philippines in years, while others carried only fragments of memory—childhood visits, familiar food, and a language half-spoken but fully understood. But to them, the familiarity was almost immediate: it was in the faces of patients, the rhythm of the community, and the quiet recognition of shared roots. 

Many were meeting in person for the first time, but united in their shared purpose, they settled into place almost immediately. 

“It felt like we were all family,” Bonjo Batoon, PhD(c), MDN, APRN, CRNA, FANAS President said. “Being a Filipino working alongside other Filipinos… You’re a family.”

That same sense of familiarity carried into the work itself, shaping how the team moved from the start. When they reflected on their week, it wasn’t the end result, but the smaller moments that lingered. 

In one moment, a young girl arrived for surgery carrying a handwritten letter she had written the night before. She was preparing for a cleft palate procedure she had waited a long time to receive, one that would change not only how she looked, but how she would move through the world. 

“I remember reading that letter and thinking, wow. This meant so much to her that she wanted to make sure we knew it,” Batoon said. “That stayed with me, even to this day.” 

“These are procedures we have every day in America,” Lovinaria added. “We take it for granted. But for the people of Palawan… they don’t have that luxury. It was a reminder of how important this was.” 

In another moment, a mother and daughter had both been scheduled for surgery on the same day. Logistics required them to be brought in at the same time, and, given the limitations of the operating space, they ended up on operating tables next to one another. 

As the daughter was prepped on one table, the mother was led in, still awake and unaware of how close her child was. 

“We formed a human wall,” Batoon said. “We were shoulder to shoulder, trying to shield the mother’s view. No one has to say anything. Everybody understood what needed to happen.” 

The moment passed quickly, as most clinical moments do. The mother was safely anesthetized, the daughter’s procedure continued, and the room returned to its rhythm. But what lingered was the collective awareness that care is not only technical, but deeply human and personal. 

“When every patient looks like you, or your mom, or your aunt and uncle, the care is different,” Batoon said. “I really felt like it was my family.” 

For Lovinaria, that connection carried an even deeper meaning. 

“We worked with a lot of older patients,” he said. “It reminded me of my mom… I told her I would come back someday. And I did, in this amazing way. This was the most gratifying experience. I will never forget it.” 

That sense of connection did not end at the hospital but carried into the moments they shared beyond clinical care. In those moments, the work expanded beyond treatment into something far more enduring: education, access, and true empowerment. 

The mission was never intended to end when the FANAS team left. 

Some procedures the FANAS team performed require multiple stages. Their patients will need follow-up care and long-term coordination. The team is already planning a second mission focused on completing surgeries and expanding outreach. 

“To really make a difference,” Supan said, “will take more than just surgery. It will take more than just anesthesia.” 

FANAS’s work in Palawan demonstrates what happens when skill, identity, and purpose come together in service of something larger than any one role. 

There is a Filipino word for what FANAS has accomplished—something that had been present all along: bayanihan. 

With no direct English translation, it is distinctly Filipino and is something felt more than explained. It is the quiet understanding that people come together to carry something collectively, not because they are asked to, but because they know it matters. The spirit of bayanihan describes not just FANAS’s work in Palawan, but the drive within each of the volunteers who made the mission possible. 

For the team, it is no longer just a word. It is something they have practiced, and something they will carry forward, wherever the work leads next.