My full name was emblazoned on the page. Just below it, in a red box, accompanied by the exclamation point (!) icon, stated what I dreaded—POSITIVE.
A few days prior, I had a fever. It was the persistent kind, at 38.9C, and went on for three days. I brought myself to the emergency room, but I was sent home with “systemic viral illness” as the official diagnosis. I was only prescribed paracetamol and multivitamins.
On the fifth day, while cleaning my cats’ litter box, I realized I could not smell the poop. I could not smell anything at all. My lunch that day was kare-kare, a very flavorful Pinoy dish, but I hardly tasted it. I did not even need to pair it with bagoong because it hardly tasted like kare-kare.
A day later, I voluntarily did the RT-PCR saliva test in Philippine Red Cross–a cheaper, non-invasive procedure than the swab test and is DOH-approved. The procedure was quick and uneventful–my schedule was at 8:10 a.m., and I was out by 8:25 a.m. They issued a barcode for your specimen, which you can track (like a delivery package) as it moves throughout the day.
Twelve hours later, I stared at the page that confirmed my suspicion. POSITIVE, it said.
Alone, and with only my three cats as my companions, how do you deal with this?
Thankfully, it fired up the modern-day bayanihan spirit of Filipinos–of my friends, in particular.
Because I only had mild symptoms, I did not require hospital care. A childhood friend who is a medical doctor provided a prescription for a concoction of medication. My Brazilian Jiu-jitsu coach bought my medicine and groceries. A friend sent me an oximeter, which is important in monitoring oxygen saturation in the blood. During the whole ordeal, the oximeter was my best friend–it assured me, in bold, lit numbers, that my oxygen level is normal, dismissing my worries about the difficulty of breathing. Some friends sent lunch on separate days. My office sent me a basket of fruits. Our vets agreed to take in my cats in case I would require hospitalization. And the administration of the building where I live took care of my needs while I was in quarantine–from bringing deliveries and packages to my door to picking up my trash (doused with alcohol) from outside my unit.
Alone and scared, the toughest part was dealing with anxiety–will I get worse tomorrow? I’m coughing now. Will I still be able to breathe when I wake up? Am I just imagining my chest pains? Do I need to stay in the hospital? What will happen to my cats then? How do I tell my 71-year-old mother, whom I have not seen since the lockdown started, that I have COVID? Will I die?
A week before my diagnosis, I successfully did my final dissertation defense under the Doctor of Business Administration program of De La Salle University. I was on a “high,” and I was excited for what lies ahead for me. I was looking forward to graduating and officially earning my degree, which I worked so hard for in the last three years.
But, as fate would have it, it was a different graduation that I would earn sooner–the “graduation” from my quarantine. Fortunately, I am well, except for the loss of taste and smell. Unfortunately, although this particular COVID-19 effect is widespread, it has not been studied well. No definitive answer can be provided when the senses will recover from the neurological damage caused by the virus. I am currently doing olfactory training to rewire my brain, so I am tasting food vicariously through my friends’ food posts until I get my senses back.
What really saved the day for me was the damayan (compassion) and bayanihan (cooperation) traits that are innate among Filipinos–which have, in the past, helped communities recover from disasters and sparked the spirit of volunteerism (Barrameda & Barrameda, 2011). In fact, when the pandemic started in our country, different business organizations, from corporations to micro-enterprises, mobilized resources to send help to wherever it was needed. Almost a year into the quarantine, individuals, groups, and organizations continue the fight against COVID, and its unfortunate effect on the social and economic aspects of the country. My office, Philippine Disaster Resilience Foundation, never stopped in looking for ways to connect the resources of the private sector to address the needs of various communities in the Philippines.
Right now, I am happy to have been able to do my own groceries, after being in isolation for almost three weeks. I already signed up to donate my plasma that contains COVID antibodies, which can help save a life or two from the serious effects of COVID-19. It is the least I can do to give back.
Jonna C. Baquillas is a Doctor of Business Administration candidate at De La Salle University Ramon V. del Rosario College of Business. She is surviving the challenges of working from home through the antics of her three adorable cats, who show up live in her virtual meetings. She is currently connected with Philippine Disaster Resilience Foundation, where she leads a team that crafts and develops e-learning courses in the disaster field for various audience groups.
The views expressed above are the author’s and do not necessarily reflect the official position of DLSU, its faculty, and its administrators.