In my clinic, I see patients one by one.

A woman with uncontrolled diabetes who skipped medications because they were too expensive. A young man with hypertension who didn’t know he had it until a routine check. A grandmother who lost her vision — not because of a lack of available treatment, but because she came too late.

These are deeply personal encounters. They are the heart of clinical care: individual, focused, and immediate.

But step outside the clinic, and a different picture emerges — thousands, even millions, of similar stories unfolding at the same time. Patterns begin to appear, and the questions shift from “How do I treat this patient?” to “Why are so many patients getting sick in the first place?” and “How can we prevent this from happening to others?”

This is where public health begins.

In the Philippines, the numbers are sobering. Around 7.5 percent of Filipino adults (approximately 4.7 million people) are living with diabetes, with many more undiagnosed. Even more concerning, a significant proportion of adults may already have prediabetes, which can develop into diabetes within 5 to 10 years. Hypertension affects at least one in four Filipino adults, often silently.

But these are not just statistics — they are the faces I see every day.

Clinical care and public health are often seen as separate worlds. In reality, they are two sides of the same stethoscope. One treats disease; the other prevents it. One works at the bedside; the other at the population level. If clinical care is the rescue team, public health is the safety net.

And yet, too often, they operate separately when they should function as one. The truth is, neither can succeed alone.

Take diabetes, for instance. In the clinic, I adjust medications and monitor complications. Beyond my clinic walls, however, diabetes and its complications remain leading causes of death, driven by late diagnosis, poor access, and fragmented care.

No amount of medication can fix a broken system, and screening without treatment is an empty promise. This is where endocrinologists — and all clinicians — must expand their roles. We see the patient who stretches one vial of insulin beyond its safe use, the family who declines HbA1c testing because it is unaffordable or not covered, and the patient lost to follow-up because primary care, specialty care, and community programs are not connected.

We are not just prescribers — we are witnesses to inequity. And because we stand at the intersection of patient care and disease burden, we are uniquely positioned to advocate — not in abstract terms, but in concrete, system-level ways.

Advocacy means pushing for the full and consistent implementation of government programs, such as the Philippine Package of Essential Noncommunicable Disease Interventions (PhilPEN) at the primary care level — so that screening for diabetes and hypertension is not optional, but routine and accessible in every barangay.

It means working with the Department of Health (DOH) to strengthen referral pathways, so a patient screened in the community is not lost before diagnosis and treatment.

It means engaging PhilHealth to expand and strengthen coverage—not just for hospitalization, but for consistent outpatient chronic care, including laboratory monitoring such as HbA1c, maintenance medications, and continuity of care that prevents complications.

It means advocating for affordable access to essential medicines — especially diabetes medications, antihypertensives, and cholesterol-lowering therapies — because access delayed is care denied.

It also means using our voices — through teaching, writing, and community engagement — to shift the narrative. When we speak, policymakers listen differently, because our stories are grounded in real patients.

The Covid-19 pandemic showed us what integration looks like. Clinical care alone was not enough. Public health measures such as vaccination, disease prevention, and coordinated systems were essential. The same is true for noncommunicable diseases today.

We cannot reduce diabetes, hypertension, and obesity through clinic visits alone. Nor can we rely solely on health advocacy campaigns without ensuring access to quality care.

Integration is not optional — it is the only way forward. This means building systems where clinics are linked to communities, where accurate data helps shape policy, and where prevention and treatment are part of one continuum.

Because every patient we treat represents a larger story. If I treat my patient’s diabetes, I help that patient today. If we strengthen public health, we help thousands tomorrow.

And that may be the most powerful prescription we can ever write.