PARADOXICAL

Pandemic Diary, March-April 2020

For one whole week since that  fateful day of March 16, 2020, I couldn't think straight. I am a writer by profession but I couldn't write anything of worth. The reruns of TV noontime variety shows left me cold, as the very idea of TV shows suddenly unable to make a live telecast proved too depressing for me -- how much more the idea of binge-watching any television series or movies on YouTube for that matter? Who would be able to, anyway, if the first piece of news you'd receive is that a certain Dr. Fernandez was hospitalized in Dagupan and tested positive for the dreaded disease? What a way to start my week. It was the saddest, scariest day of my life ever as the town's Public Information Officer.

From the office, accompanied by my equally terrified staff, JV and Ace, I rushed home before lunch in a fit of panic attack as the enormity of the consequences arising from that piece of news -- more of rumor -- sank in and finally hit me. But I had enough foresight to pop an antidepressant pill which I remembered a high school classmate who was a doctor recommended to me and thought of bringing with me on that day to work.

The drug must have kicked in within hours for I was able to sleep off the waves of frightening palpitations after my body got tired from the initial shock. But I sweated on profusely the whole day and even while sleeping. I woke up with my head drenched in sweat.

A big part of my job is in social media, and as expected, the comments and private messages on Facebook came in in an unprecedented deluge each time the local government issued an advisory. That is understandable, as the messaging feature of Facebook is freely accessible, so naturally that is where everyone ran to for help. I had survived past flood events and the ASF scare, but this one was on a different level. Add to this the various fake news and hoaxes being spread online virally. I suppose there will always be deranged folk out there who'd get a kick out of scaring the heck out of people. For the first time, I dreaded logging in to my Facebook account. Being online proved to be a double-edged sword. While it allowed me to work from home, stay connected to everybody, and keep abreast of the latest developments, it also became a devil's playground in order to keep me tense.

I was thus thankful to Pat and Paeng of Tourism Office as they took up the cudgels for me with my sudden incapacity. I took it upon myself to answer the messages at least, in the spirit of lending a hand to the distressed, though I myself was in terrible distress. What if the Mayor caught the virus from Dr. Fernandez? With all those face-to-face meetings from day to day, he could have infected me and the rest of the LGU heads, the head of the police and his top people, the barangay captains, and who knows who else. He could easily have infected the whole town population, considering his presence in various other functions, as each of us, his contacts, went home to our respective families. The elderly were especially at risk, and I lived with three senior citizens. The what-if's arising from this home situation of mine were the most intrusive and niggling thoughts I had.

My last contact with the Mayor was March 11, so I should have been a PUM, a "person under monitoring," like all the rest, right? Thank God, as 'luck' would have it, I didn't develop any symptoms -- just like all of my fellow potential contacts! But one never knew, for it is said that some of those infected are asymptomatic even though they are carriers.

The barrage of news on TV and social media ensured a constant supply of new reasons to be dreadful over the next few days. Celebrities and top officials became COVID-19-positive, the news anchors dutifully told us. The list included actors Iza Calzado, Christopher de Leon, and Sylvia Sanchez and her husband, the esteemed investigative journalist Howie Severino, DILG Secretary Eduardo Año, a DOH Undersecretary, DepEd Secretary Leonor Briones (an 80 year old, though amazingly asymptomatic), Senators Miguel Zubiri, Sonny Angara, Bongbong Marcos, and former Senator Heherson Alvarez and his wife. It was definitely worrisome that Howie Severino had no idea how he caught the virus. In Italy, it was reported that 10 priests died of COVID-19, and that was just in one town.

It was not very reassuring to know that anybody can get infected -- rich, poor, good, bad.... Appalling new discoveries about the SARS-COV2 virus kept on popping up: how long it lived on surfaces, and that it is airborne -- and we learned this on a perfectly windy day, thank you, and that it can travel several feet away... Even animals allegedly can catch the dreaded disease.

As if those were not enough, the virus, it was reported, has so far mutated into 30 new strains. Wow, what a talented little devil. And then there were the news of random people dying, including someone I knew back in Manila. Add to these the constant news of healthcare workers going down with the disease and dying themselves. If they, our carers themselves, would get ill, what would happen to the rest of us. 

One case that disturbed me immensely is the death of a doctor who rendered care for COVID cases for three days straight, without sleep. He reportedly died of cardiac arrest. And he was not the only one.

There were, of course, the various after-effects of the ensuing Luzon-wide enhanced community quarantine -- which would later become extreme enhanced community quarantine -- and the consequent nightmare called total lockdown where absolutely no one could get out of one's house. In one fell swoop, so many people lost their livelihood, as they got locked in and locked out of places where they found themselves unable to leave posthaste for one reason or another. Establishments deemed non-essential closed shop, with an uncertain date of reopening. As if those were not enough, eyewitness stories of panic-buying, overpricing of basic commodities, and hoarding of grocery items, especially rubbing alcohol, ran rampant. Through it all, I felt helpless.

While the national government functionaries were right to advise people to stay put inside their homes so as to help prevent the spread of the disease and not to overwhelm our healthcare facilities, they themselves were caught off-guard by the enormity of the consequences of that decision: people unable to scrape by for their next meal; unable to buy formula milk, diaper, maintenance medicine; unable to withdraw or deposit cash for loved ones...all sorts of disasters little and big. The whole country, if not the whole world, was traumatized in various ways from all directions at the same time.

Lockdowns, though, seemed more apt for economically wealthy societies and not in the context of a populous country with many people living a hand-to-mouth existence in some cramped hovel like in the Philippines, or so some more perceptive observers said.

Meanwhile, I had to deal with not just heart palpitations and an ensuing stomach pain -- surely a result of great stress, but difficult mental puzzles as well. As it was, I was already grappling with my overthinking nature. On top of this, worry upon worry often overtook my appetite that I had to force myself to eat some food so my stomach wouldn't hurt all the more.

Adding to my worries is that my niece Kiara was alone in her apartment in Clark where she didn't have any cooking materials, while my brother Rommel was flying home from Korea in the middle of the lockdown. And how about our day-to-day needs, especially food items and all those maintenance meds? We could not just eat canned goods and noodles, as these are bad for our health. I sought intercession from the prayerful souls I know.

One day, when I was able to find some moments of calm, I ventured answering some of the queries PM-ed (privately messaged) on our LGU's official Facebook page. My sympathetic nature, of course, got the better of me, and so I was left wondering if I could afford being helpful at that panicky time.

The drug that I took -- an antidepressant called escitalopram -- kept on making me sweaty even while asleep and as a result I dreaded catching the flu from it, so I stopped taking it on the fourth day. But since I could not sleep straight, I took diphenhydramine. This one, a popular antihistamine, was a great help in getting my daily dose of 7-8 hours of sleep, although it, too, had side effects, though mostly tolerable ones, including dry mouth, difficulty urinating, occasional dizziness, and paradoxical nervousness or agitation after it wore off. But it was better than having just four hours of sleep and dealing later on with the hypertension, dizziness, and flagging energy, if not full-blown fatigue as a result.

Through it all, I had to struggle with paranoia, with the slightest cold, clogged nose, cough, sore throat, rise in body temperature, loss of sense of smell and taste, and difficulty of breathing that I and the three seniors living together with me experienced, giving me shivers down my spine.

But if there's one thing that made me give up something I thought I couldn't give up for even just one morning -- 3-in-1 coffee -- it is this event. And I am quite proud of myself for having to endure not drinking coffee for weeks on end. Guess what I found? The withdrawal effect includes agitation too. 

If there was the one thing that was able to lull me to sleep through the storm, it is those online masses which came in abundance, with various choices of venues and schedules. I am immensely thankful for this miracle brought on by modern technology. The prayers too were helpful -- the Oratio Imperata, the daily prayer to St. Roque, novenas to saints who are known to have fought off plagues in times past -- as did spiritual reflection articles.

I have always deemed myself as having a strong belief in God. If only I can, I would attend mass daily. I pray the rosary daily and I know my Psalm 91 and quote much from the saints. And yet I wasn't spared the shock and terror of it all.