Congrats, you're positive," said the woman on the other line. It was past 10 in the evening of June 19th when we were informed of the dreaded news. We had been anxious the entire day waiting for the results of our swab test. Although we'd been exhibiting all the common symptoms, we were still hoping it was nothing serious. But just as we were about to fall into a deep slumber, my phone rang and we were wide awake again. We got infected with the coronavirus.
I started feeling sick five days prior. I was at the office when my body began feeling weak. My head was spinning and my vision, blurry. I could not finish my lunch. I wanted to go home early but I was afraid I might not make it safe. I tried keeping to myself for some time, waiting impatiently for the day to end. At about 4 in the afternoon, though, I was almost certain that I was having a fever. So I went out of our office and asked the security guard if he still had the thermometer gun with him. He pointed the gadget on my forehead and showed me the tiny screen. 36. I went back to my desk and tried to calm down. I am just overreacting, I told myself. When it was finally time to go home, I hitched a ride with my officemate and sat at the back of his car.
When I reached home, Ambin opened the door and asked instantly if I was sick. Apparently, my body was burning hot that he sensed it even before he could give me a peck. After he made sure that I was comfortable in bed, he went out to buy more medicines and a thermometer. A few minutes later, he was nagging me to properly insert the device in my mouth. Beep. 38.8. I felt a bit of relief. Manageable, I thought. But by the time we turned off the lights to hit the sack, it shot up. Our phones alarmed repeatedly that night — one of our longest ever as a young married couple.
I called in sick the next day though my fever had subsided. I was feeling a bit better but I wanted to make sure that I was fully healed before going back to work. We also wanted to see first if it was just the usual flu. We had been very mindful of any symptoms after my mom's ANTIGEN test turned reactive a week before.
As early as January last year, Ambin and I have been joking about getting COVID-19 each time we experience cough or colds. That's just how we are, we enjoy dark humor. We would have been joking about it again had we not learned the following day that my mom tested positive for the virus. It had only been nine days since my last exposure with her which made me quite worried. I immediately informed my officemates about it and asked them what the protocol was. Our DPA advised me to isolate and take a swab test ASAP so I called Calbayog City's OPCEN to book slots for Ambin and me. That Wednesday, we spent our time on our phones, calling one person to another and assuring everyone that we were fine.
It wasn't entirely true, however. Soon enough we were having headaches, a very dry cough and colds, body malaise. A day before our test results were released, I could not taste or smell the spoilt tinolang manok that we kept from the previous night's supper. It was so strange not being able to taste anything, especially when you knew how it's supposed to taste like. Among all the symptoms I experienced, losing my sense of taste annoyed me the most as it made me feel really vulnerable. What if I ate poison? Not that anyone tried to, but you know what I mean. It was like I was detached from everything else.
Yet the thing that exasperated me more than the virus and the two-week isolation, was the fact that I had to deal with our local government unit. It was a nightmare, I tell you! Since our COVID story would be incomplete without clarifying some of the issues thrown at us regarding our quarantine, might as well share with you, my nonexistent readers, how this whole episode became nearly traumatic for us.
When I had the fever, I informed my sister about it since she's with the RHU. When we did our swab tests, I likewise notified her that we were tagged as San Policarpo patients. Then that fateful night of June 19th, I, again, relayed the results to her. The whole time the RHU was informed of everything, who, in turn, passed all the details to our LGU. We also advised the Taft border personnel of our supposed travel and gave them our contact details, including our car description and plate number, to avoid any contact with them.
While I was coordinating with the RHU through my sister, Ambin was making sure we had a place to stay for the entire quarantine period. We did request OPCEN to allow us to quarantine at our hometown for the simple reason that no one was gonna look after us here in the city. The only people we can ask for favors were also in isolation being my close contacts. We thought it safer to isolate ourselves in a place we were familiar with. We also appealed to them that we be allowed to use our own car to travel and have the ambulance convoy with us, if necessary. We couldn't leave Burdags in our compound unattended for 14 days. We'd need it for when we return for work, too. The OPCEN understood but told us that they'd have to coordinate with our LGU first. We acceded and gave them the contact details of our COVID focal person.
On Sunday morning, OPCEN called and told us to stay put for a while because the San Policarpo LGU was asking for an additional requirement before we can be allowed to go home. According to them, we'd have to secure a coordination letter (read: permission letter) from the chairman of the barangay where our quarantine home is located as the village would have to be locked down. Naturally, we asked them why since, as far as we knew, nothing in the protocol said about securing letters. It was even scrapped by DILG last year as a requirement for returning residents. And why would they put the entire barangay on lockdown when we were already identified as COVID patients? We won't even be settling in the barangay proper. We'd be like 500 meters away from them, alone in a farmhouse. Protection or persecution? It was so frustrating! I mean, I had already very low expectations of our LGU and yet, it still infuriated the hell out of me. 😣
After a series of phone calls, OPCEN finally gave us a go signal and we drove straight home. The funny thing is that when we arrived at our quarantine area, no one even took our temps. And yes, no ambulance came to fetch us. I doubt they even considered sending one. So much for being protocol police, am I right?
Despite everything, we still consider ourselves lucky for only suffering mild symptoms. Just a few days into our isolation and we were both back to our usual, healthy selves. Then yesterday, we got our single-dose COVID vaccine. In two weeks, we'd be fully vaccinated. Thank you, Lord ☝🏼
Truly, the whole ordeal brought out the best and worst in us. And I am proud to be surrounded by good people. I am grateful to our families, in particular, for being there for us. We were so well taken care of by everyone the whole time. The immense love was so palpable despite the mandated distance. Of course, I am always extremely thankful for my husband, my anchor. Without him, I would have probably lost it already or worst, starved to death. Haha
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