PARADOXICAL

It all started September 14, 2021, Tuesday, when Ace, my staff in the office, felt my neck while I was having a massage during a break and he said I had a fever. I said no, I don't, but when I felt my neck and then my forehead, I realized that I indeed had a fever. I also noticed that earlier, after lunch, mucus started dripping from my nose down to my throat nonstop. I couldn't do anything but swallow each drip, and maybe out of denial, I attributed it to the sweet and sour pork I had for lunch yesterday which, of course, had lots of ginger. You see, I usually get a reaction from ginger like clogged nose at night. 

By dinner, I noticed that my appetite decreased, and that's when I started to worry because I normally have ravenous appetite that I had to constantly restrain myself from eating more. Could this be...? I hope to God it was just the usual flu, which I get yearly.

Sept. 15, Wed. I didn't report for work because, on top of my fever, which went on and off, and loss of appetite, I suddenly had cold, cough due to itchy throat, and body ache  -- all slight. I took Bioflu, thinking it was just indeed the flu I was prone to. Paeng kindly sent me ivermectin, and I took two capsules as prophylaxis as instructed. He also gave me the Chinese Linghua herbal supplement, but after reading the lengthy ingredients list that it has ephedra, which I knew causes palpitations, I skipped it.

Meanwhile, my mother was the one who was really sick at this point. She had been sick a few days prior and needed medical attention. Fortunately, Vincent, our friendly neighbor who's a nurse at Bayambang District Hospital, was on hand to address her every need. He volunteered everything, so she didn't have to be confined. This was something crucial because no room was available at the local district hospital nor anywhere else near.

Sept. 16-18, Th-Sat. The slight fever was still on and off.  My appetite was not improving. I noticed a kind of exhaustion I never experienced before after doing the simplest house chores. All I wanted to do all day was sit down on a chair and lay my head on the table.

Sept. 19-22. Sun-Th. I wasn't improving still. I was really fatigued at this point, unable to help with the house chores, my fever still on and off. My sister Salome, who lived in Brgy. Sapang but chose to stay with us at this point together with her husband Carlo, was also slowly showing some symptoms.

I called up Dr. Paz Vallo, and she kindly sent me and my sister cotrimoxazole, vitamin C, and diphenhydramine, plus a food pack to help tide us over.

Because diphenhydramine gave me insomnia the next day, I took cetirizine instead. 

I was so disappointed with the situation because I was consistent in taking vitamin C, my expensive food supplements (vitamins and minerals, including zinc and vitamin D3) from Usana, probiotics (Yakult, yoghurt), on top of my maintenance medicine (losartan). 

All along, I had been doing everything else as instructed just to be compliant with the health protocols: face mask, face shield, social distancing, self-quarantine, exposure to sunshine...

Carlo (my sister's husband) was starting to fall ill as well. This was the worst-case scenario because Carlo was like our all-around guy at this point. We clearly needed help. My brother Rommel, together with his wife and two sons, including 2-month old Theo, hired Doming's van so they could travel all the way from Liliw, Laguna, to help us out. They were recent covid survivors themselves.

Meanwhile, I had to ask Ace to sleep over in an adjoining room so we had an extra hand while waiting for my brother.

At the checkpoint at the boundary with Tarlac in Brgy. Tampog, my brother and his family were questioned, and I had to contact Paeng again to help my brother. They were allowed to enter after some hesitation from the police chief's men.

Sept. 23, F. I had insomnia, of course.

My cold was gone, but I still had no appetite. I was also hyperventilating, I think -- anxiety and panic attack over the what-could-be's. On top of this, I had LBM, or could it be IBS (irritable bowel syndrome, as part of anxiety and panic)? I wasn't sure.

It was at this point that I asked Paeng to take me to a hospital. It was my niece's Jiliana's birthday, and she was on video call, but I was in no mood to greet her and I had to pack up my things fast. An ambulance I requested arrived at the gate, and I was taken to Medical City Clark in faraway Pampanga because there was absolutely no room left in town, particularly in the Bayambang District Hospital. I also asked Paeng to ask the Mayor to help me. The Quiambao family's nurse Sarah took care of the details in booking me.

The ambulance arrived at dusk. After going through an admission problem (the head nurse at the Emergency Department said there was no advice regarding my arrival, but there was), I was made to fill out a number of forms -- not one, not two, but several. I was incredulous. Here I was very sick and I had to read a lot of things in fine print, write, and remember a lot of personal data, including numbers. 

After that, I went through a battery of tests, one after another: chest X-ray, CT-scan, two types of blood test, and three tests for covid: antigen, swab, RT-PCR.

Then the nurses started to put me on dextrose.

On dextrose, I was made to wait while seated inside a cramped cubicle until the nurses could find a slot at the makeshift hospital tent. I checked the time, and it was already 10 pm. It seemed uncertain when a slot would be available, so I felt like I was hanging by a thread. I must have looked catatonic at this point, too shell-shocked to have any overt emotion, not pity for myself, not sadness, nor anger, not even fear. Through it all, I went through the motions, as though detached from everything.

I should be in a state of total shock, but curiously, I was not fully catatonic -- maybe because it's part of my nature as a writer. I was constantly taking mental note of everything. However, my state of agitation was not soothed one bit by the little commotion made by a gaggle of nurses in a distance. Clad in white and clutching an assortment of hospital things -- oxygen tank, laboratory stuff, and whatnot, they seemed to argue over an issue that a patient's relative, it seemed to me, brought up to them. Their actuations were a mix of surprise, disbelief, and anger, and they seemed to be a blaming game going on, with one or two nurses leaving and entering the scene one after another. The scene took some amount of time before things cooled off. 

Finally, after I am no longer sure how many minutes or hours passed, I was wheeled inside the tent. And as soon I laid down on the bed, I had an ECG test. They also started to give me all sorts of medication via intravenous (IV) administration: ceftriaxone, dexamethasone. I was also given N-acetylcysteine to drink, a mucolytic that tasted like Sprite. 

To my horror, I learned that the tent did not have its own comfort room. I had to be in a wheelchair accompanied by a nurse just to be able to answer the call of nature at the Emergency Department, which is about 15 meters away. I was also lying together with another patient next to me, but there was at least a divider for privacy. Another consolation is that the tent had air-conditioning. Thank God!

A kind-faced female nurse provided me a portable urinal, but I found that it was not enough. I had to make use of the empty plastic bottles of mineral water that I had emptied earlier to be able to take a leak.

Every now and then, three nurses took my vital signs: BP, body temperature (using either a thermometer or a new contraption that they inserted into my ear), and blood oxygen saturation (using a pulse oximeter). Strangely, supposedly hypertensive me never registered high numbers (it was always 110-120/80, when my usual is 130/80). My oxygen level was also normal.

All throughout, I was chatting with a lot of people on my phone, and I received a lot of bad news. My sister's in-laws in Brgy. Sapang appeared to have caught the virus one by one. That was two more households falling ill together!

Another staff at work also informed me that his entire family except his father and grandfather who lived in a different house fell ill one after another as well.

Sept. 24, Sat. I had dry mouth, sudden onset of dry, itchy cough that was no longer slight but full-on. I still had a worrisome lack of appetite, LBM, and on top of that, hyperacidity, because they started me on omeprazole, taken 30 minutes before eating.

My fever got worse, and judging from the nurse's expression, it was something worrisome, so she kindly advised me to wipe my own body with wet towel to cool it off, but the fever wouldn't subside. 

Sept. 25-26, Sun. The coughing became frequent. It was a sort that I had experienced before, the kind that hurt your stomach down to your genitals.

They also tested my urine, in case there was a problem with my kidneys.

When night came, I was told that I was confirmed positive for COVID-19. I was no longer surprised, but the way it was delivered by a tall male doctor made me feel like it was a grim health situation for me. I was given remdesivir and a blood thinner, enoxaparan, but before that, I was told to sign a waiver. I was aware that remdesivir was costly, so I had a new thought to worry about (the bills) and the effects of a drug I was not familiar with.

When I really couldn't sleep, I took Valium (diazepam) that I brought with me even though I worried about possible drug interactions. The doctor -- a new one, a kindly faced lady who donned an attire like she was an astronaut -- said she thought of giving me Lexotan, but she approved Valium because she said I had been using it, but only "as needed."

Sept. 27, M. Finally they were able to find me a room after a patient was discharged, a private room with its own comfort room, thank God. I was happy that I could do all the ablutions in privacy and, for the first time, take a decent bath. (Before this luxury, I only managed to use a towel to clean up myself.) But despite all the comforts of privacy, all I ever wanted to do was sit on a chair and scroll down my FB mindlessly or chat with people and lie down if bored or tired -- and pray. I think I outdid the moist cloistered and contemplative of monks and nuns at praying. I couldn't even play games on my cell phone. I didn't have any desire to listen to music. I was that emotionally down. I was able to watch TV, whose switch malfunctioned all the time, until I could no longer find anything that interested me anywhere in the world. The only memorable shows were that one about a traditional wedding in an Indian tribe and the usual wildlife features.

While confined, I had to keep on checking on my mother at home who was on dextrose and oxygen, my sister and her husband who were experiencing symptoms as well, and the deteriorating conditions of everyone in the houses of my brother-in-law's brother and parents. On top of these, my staff and his family members (wife, brother, sister) were suffering symptoms as well with various levels of severity. Somehow, the message seems to be, at least my family was not alone at it.

Meanwhile, there was an earthquake just when I was about to sleep. The room shook twice -- with the two hanging dextrose bottles moving to and fro. Gee, that was a moment of shock on top of shock. This building might fall apart, I thought, so I pinched a contraption that produced a sound at the nursing station. The nurse for the night entered my room almost laughing in fear just like me.

After a longish suffering in the area of bowel movement, my LBM stopped, finally! 

But then my appetite was still so-so. A few bites and I felt too full too fast. There was a great deal of good food being wasted, of course, packs and packs of decent canteen food going to the trash bin. There were very few things I still liked eating -- strangely, I never lost my sense of smell and taste: apple, pear, vegetable sidings, eggs. I didn't feel like eating rice, but I forced myself to eat a few spoonfuls. Not even loaf bread and biscuits appealed to my appetite, even though I brought lots of them with me, thanks to Paeng and my staff.

They said my blood albumin level went down, so they gave me Ensure Gold for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus a drink that resembled orange juice but actually contained something helpful at this point. 

Sept. 29. My coughing stopped, Alleluia!

Sept. 30. This is the only time I regained my normal appetite. I had to text my niece Kiara, who I remembered from out of the blue worked in nearby Clark Airport, to satisfy my cravings for papaya, burger buns, mayonnaise, and later on, Big Mac and Chicken Joy.

Oct 4, M. I was told that I still could not be discharged because I suddenly had a lung infection, as indicated by a WBC count of 9,000. (Normal is 1,000). 

9,000 vs 1,000 WBC was surely alarming by any account. The doctor, who, of course, sounded alarmed, gave me a new antibiotic, but I failed to catch the name. It is something I am totally unfamiliar with, despite my long history of being a medical copyeditor.

Oh, God, what new horror would haunt me through the night and keep me awake?

Oct. 8, F. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, I was finally discharged but was told to take cefuroxime twice a day for four more days. I wonder where I got that lung infection when I was already on ceftriaxone.

As I was slowly wheeled out of my room into the hallway and out of this and that door, I gave the sweetest but shy smile to all the nurses and staff that went past my sight, and they respectfully smiled back. 

Inside the ambulance going back home, I messaged the Mayor, thanking him profusely. "Sir, thank you, I owe you my second life," I said, to which he responded, "You're welcome."

I had to be on quarantine for one month. Over the first week, I felt so weak that mere walking felt weird because laborious. I was totally unable to help out with the daily house chores.

I also had to wake up in the middle of the night to eat something because I felt too famished to ignore the pangs of hunger in my tummy.

Little by little, I tried experimenting what activity I was able to do. I rejoiced at each little success in disposing of and segregating the waste, washing the dishes, mopping the floor, helping out with cooking, cleaning up the leaves in the yard.

Oct 16. For the first time, I didn't have to wake up in the middle of the night just to eat because I didn't feel famished. This must be the beginning of real recovery, I thought.

Oct 25. I returned to work after finishing just two weeks of quarantine, I realized. I was able to deliver, but I noticed that I got tired so easily. I wanted to go home by 3 PM every day. 

I was told that covid patients need a lot more time, possibly up to 6 months, depending on severity, for full recovery. 

All the while, I was wondering if my mother and I, and the others, would come out of it alive, because covid-19 -- looking back -- is a disease that is designed to ensure you are killed, at least for us older and vulnerable ones, so I am just thankful that we all did survive.

We are now all back to our old routines, quite weaker than before but determined to recover.

***

A Note of Thanks to Everyone Who Lent a Hand

Hardly had my family fully grieved the sudden passing of my father -- who had to be cremated with dispatch (turned out he was negative) -- when we all fell ill one after another beginning on September 14, 2021. The symptoms came slow but telling -- something told us this one was... different.

In other words, we were hit by COVID-19, possibly the feared Delta variant, judging from the severity and swiftness of infection.

I would like to thank the following without whose help I and my family would not have come out of the ordeal alive.

First of all, Paeng, my immediate superior in the office, for his awesome coordination skill on top of his already gargantuan task as a multi-hyphenated head of four offices/departments, and the other forms of assistance (food, cash, meds, etc.)

Pat, my deputy, for assuming my different tasks in my long absence, with the help of the PIO team (Sheina, JV, Verna, Gab, Don, Dian, Ace, and our 'mother,' Ma'am Letty)

Gene and her MDRRMO team for kindly delivering oxygen tanks at all hours as needed

POSO, for their ambulance service to and from the hospital

PNP, for letting in my brother and his wife, son, and newborn, so they could come home and assist us, as we were one by one feeling fatigued and helpless

Dr. Paz, Dr. Adrienne, and Dr. Roland of the LGU's Rural Health Units, for the preliminary help and checking on us, including the requisite inquiries through their nurse Jonathan and the DILG/DOH's assigned contact tracer (Rience Gonzales); for providing meds and medical equipment and supplies, even food pack

Vincent, our friend at BDH, for taking care of my mother everyday and not leaving her until she got well

My niece, Kiara, whom I suddenly remembered works in the faraway area I was confined in and thus rescued me by providing for my numerous needs while recuperating

My other siblings in Manila and Cavite, who constantly kept tabs of the situation and assisted when needed through financial and moral support

My dear high school classmates, especially those based abroad, for the generous financial assistance they gave for the second time around, even without being asked to give again, the first one being for my father's burial, and for their fervent prayers; special thanks to Mira and Jaye, Bles for organizing those in the US, Ivy and Melvin for the food deliveries, and Erwin in Australia for sponsoring food

Also our former class adviser, Ma'am Tets, for giving financial assistance without being asked

Our neighbors in Cadre Site -- Solomon, Lucido, Gache, Doloque, Medrano families -- who gave meds, assistance in cooking, advice -- their kindness will not be forgotten

My colleagues in the LGU who got wind of my family's situation, for their encouragement and prayers; Ma'am Elsie/Accounting for taking care of my PhilHealth account

Michael who served as our runner

My old friends in the different lay religious communities in Manila: The Risen Lord's Vineyard, Risen Christ Catholic Charismatic Community, Filipinos for Life/Prolife Prayer Warriors, etc., for their intercessory prayers; also, my little, largely locally based intercessory prayer group -- I firmly believe in the power of intercession

The doctors, nurses, and other personnel of Medical City Clark, for their invaluable service -- the smile, the kind words, the genuine concern, the response to my little requests on top of the expected service -- those things can't possibly have a price tag

Lastly, thanks so much to my boss, Mayor Cezar, together with Ma'am Nina, Ma'am Bonita, for footing the horrifying bill when they didn't have to; special thanks to their nurse Sarah

Let me take this opportunity to thank as well those who helped us when my father died that I have not mentioned above: Cadre Site barangay officials, especially Kuya Nato (with son Cris in tow) who first came to our rescue while knowing the risks, Kagawad Ong, Kapitan Diolazo, our BHWs, especially Lea who doubled as ambulant vendor. Special thanks to Vincent for helping out at BDH, my cousins from all over, especially Uncle Bern's children, my neighborhood, friends in the office, the LGU, Raul Ramos and Cesar Bato and wife Venus for the funeral assistance, everyone who condoled with us online, and again, Mayor Quiambao for the generosity.

My profuse apologies to anyone I may have left unacknowledged inadvertently.

May God spare you and your family from what we have been through. For coming to the aid of poor, helpless souls, may he reward your household a hundredfold.

Of course, I thank God, that, in His mercy, we have weathered the twin storms of sudden death and dreadful disease. He must have allowed this for a reason, and I trust in his wisdom. I thank God, mother Mary and the saints, for the little and big miracles (see above) and the consolations (the thought that we were not alone -- several other families were going through the same exact thing, we are not the only ones suffering, etc.) in between the seemingly endless days and nights of trial.

posted by Resty Odon  # 9:48 PM