For years, the kitchen was her natural habitat—fast-paced, high-pressure, and fueled by passion. As a chef and culinary educator, Henedina “Heny” Sison thrived in motion, rarely slowing down. 

“I go to the gym, I walk, and I’m always on the go,” she recalled. Nothing about her lifestyle suggested that something could be quietly changing within her body.

Then came the subtle signs.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. A bit of breathlessness. Fatigue that didn’t quite match her energy. 

“Dati kasi lalakad lang ako, hinihingal na ako… sabi ko, there’s something wrong. It’s not the usual me,” she said. What began as a routine check-up soon turned into a life-altering discovery: she was diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM), a condition marked by the thickening of the heart muscle.

“I didn’t even know what HCM was,” she admitted. “Akala ko… I had all these ideas, but I didn’t really understand it.”

The diagnosis sent her into unfamiliar territory—one filled with medical jargon, uncertainty, and difficult decisions. 

At one point, she even questioned her future in the profession she loved. “Parang feeling ko, is this the end of my career? Kailangan ko na bang umupo?” she said, recalling the fear that came with the news.

But the journey that followed was not defined by fear alone—it became a story of resilience, adaptation, and rediscovery.

Through a network of doctors and family support, she explored treatment options that stretched beyond the Philippines. With limited access to specialized medication locally, Chef Heny traveled abroad to secure what she needed. 

“There’s a medicine now, but it’s not available here… you can get it in Singapore,” she shared. Eventually, she was able to obtain a six-month supply.

The effects were almost immediate. “The following day… I feel okay. Parang I’m back to normal,” she said.

Yet beyond the medicine, the deeper transformation happened in how she approached life—and work.

In an industry that often glorifies endurance and hustle, she learned the value of slowing down. 

The kitchen, once a space of relentless control, became a place of trust and collaboration. “I learned how to delegate now… I learned to trust my staff,” she said.

Support played a crucial role in her recovery—not just from doctors, but from those closest to her. “Of course, the family and the doctors… my team,” she added.

Looking back, her message to others facing similar conditions is clear and grounded in lived experience: “Diagnosis is not the end of your story. There are options out there.”

It’s a perspective she now carries into her advocacy, emphasizing the need for greater awareness and education. 

Many, she believes, may be living with conditions like hers without even knowing it. “Maraming meron ganitong condition, pero hindi lang nade-detect… so awareness is very important,” she said.

Today, she continues to teach, cook, and create—but with a different rhythm. One that honors both her passion and her health.

Her story is not about stepping away from the heat of the kitchen. It’s about learning how to stay in it—on her own terms, and at her own pace.

And in that balance, she has found something even more meaningful than endurance: sustainability.