Poets call Death a thief in the night. I am a journalist and I call Disease a thief who attacks in broad daylight.

I am watching as Disease steals my friend, Henry Abiog, from me by installment. Henry is a lawyer who works for the Department of Agriculture, a caring only son of only children. He always has a smile and a joke ready for me on the days when I would rage at the world. Now, he is stricken with an ailment that has shut both his kidneys down and has been undergoing thrice-weekly dialysis so he can live long enough to receive a kidney transplant.

Henry is dying by the inch, plagued as he is with diabetes on top of renal failure. Three years ago, he was rushed to the hospital of our alma mater, the University of Santo Tomas, because his kidneys shut down. As early as then, I and our small klatch of friends have been trying to find him donors and funding to support his treatment. So desperate were we to keep him alive that we even considered finding a black market kidney for him.

Henry would not have it be so. "Jerri," he said to me over the phone when I pleaded with him to let me go to the Dark Side in order to find him a kidney, "you are going to break the law." No matter the urgency of my pleadings, he stuck to his guns: "I will not let you break the law. I am an officer of the law. If it means that I should die following the law and making sure you do the same, then, so be it."

I rarely cry, but that statement cut me so deeply that I burst out in tears over the phone. But that is the Henry I know and love. He would not even accept so much as a cup of coffee from the people who go to his office at the DA seeking legal relief from their property problems. He is one of that rare breed of government workers who is not a public ipis: He works hard, his infirmity notwithstanding, and he gets the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible because "the public deserves the best I have to give to the last."

He is a good friend, one of my oldest and dearest. He has been a brother to me and a good godfather to my daughters. I owe him more than just the allegiance of friendship, upon several occasions, I have owed him my very soul.

You see, Henry is the kind of person who can give me pause, even in the worst of my rages. He is the kind of person who makes me think in terms of what is right, what honor demands, what a caring and loving person should say and do. I am not always right, honorable, caring or loving. It is that which Henry so patiently taught me, augmenting the efforts of my friends and family.

So here I am, pouring my heart out to you, as unwilling as I am to do so. I beg for your aid in finding a kidney donor for Henry and for financial assistance that will help him sustain his dialysis treatments and pay for medications to keep his diabetes in check.

The three years he has been battling kidney failure and fighting to stay alive have drained all his family resources, such as they were. His mother has sold off their land in Palawan to pay for Henry's medical needs. Henry and his girlfriend now regularly line up at the PCSO office to get funds for his dialysis and we, his friends, are doing all we can to find alternative sources of funding for him.

I ask for help for a man who is a friend to me and a good worker in a government that needs more, not less, people like him. Please help my friend.

Those who wish to donate financial assistance may deposit their donations in cash or check directly in the Landbank savings account of Henry P. Abiog, Account No. 0707-0449-00. For those who may wish to make donations in kind, please PM me.

Thank you for your kindness and thank you for sharing your blessings. Thank you for helping me help a man I call friend and brother. May God bless you and keep you.