My Story of Positivity

Inside the ICER Ambulance on my way to hospital quarantine
Inside the ICER Ambulance on my way to hospital quarantine

By Bobby Rodriguez

ON JULY 25th, I tested positive of COVID-19. I did not tell anyone except for family and closest friends. It wasn’t the best week of my life – my grandmother passed away, my mother fighting COVID herself in another hospital, my entire family being locked down, and finally getting my swab result was not a time to invite sympathies and well-wishes online. I would rather operate within my circle and with people who can actually be there to help me beyond lip service.

So yes, I was tested positive and I am a certified survivor. I was one of the suspects of the contact tracing team running after everyone that was presumably exposed to my mom. In a span of 5 days of relentless contact tracing at that time (between July 21-July 25), I have received countless calls, all from unregistered numbers which I happily answered – from the LGU, to the different Health Workers, our town Mayor, to the Town Doctor, to the City COVID Extraction Team, to the Barangay Health Unit, to the Barangay Captain, as well as several doctors… The stress level of being interviewed and being given instructions and being treated like a living menace was the most difficult part of the ordeal.

I had zero symptoms. I was feeling perfectly okay until all the chaos of contact tracing started to take over. I developed stomach cramps, nausea, and I also had palpitations. Not because of COVID but because of the uncertainty that awaited me. That moment when I was informed I was positive, it felt like it was a death sentence. And I was fully aware that that was not supposed to be the case. It felt more like I have committed a crime instead of someone needing care. I was also deeply bothered by personal concerns like who would bring meals to my mom who at that time was also struggling with her survival in another hospital? Who would buy her medicines & other needs? It was a really dark time for me and my family.

When my results came out, I was advised by the doctors, all infectious diseases specialists, that I could do home quarantine because I have my own room and my own toilet. One doctor asked if I could take a video of my room so they can be assured of my isolation. After sending the video email to the doctor, he approved the idea of me being home quarantined. His decision was based on the DOH Guidelines. But the City Health team insisted I should be picked up and be transferred to the quarantine facility as per the City’s Executive Order. It was confusing, because the doctors and experts are saying I can stay home but the non-doctors are hell-bent on picking me up for reinforced isolation. At some point I understood how they have lost trust in home quarantine since there were cases when citizens broke the home quarantine protocols. But I just could not bring myself to the idea that I will be in a building with many other positives. I imagined I would be more vulnerable to catching diseases in the facility than being just at home. I also didn’t see the point of taking up bed space in a hospital when someone else might be needing it more than I do. Of course, the ‘rule of law’ must prevail. So with a heavy heart and a lot of anxiety, off I went when the ICER ambulance picked me up at home. It felt horrible. I could almost imagine the feeling of entering hell and that particular moment of dying when I carried my stuff to the ambulance. But I reminded myself that I am fine and I would wing this just like a pro.

I decided to spend my quarantine at St. Paul’s Hospital. I was brought directly to the COVID emergency room for lab tests and processing. The doctors and nurses were a bit puzzled why I had to get admitted since I was asymptomatic anyway. But they assured me I will be okay in their care. After all the blood work, and X-rays, I was wheeled in to the isolation room. It was funny how the route I took from the ER to my room was cleared as if the sight of me would make them get COVID themselves. When I got to the room, I was shocked to find out I was going to share it with another COVID+ patient. The reason was ‘there are no available private rooms anymore.’ I guess two positives make it— a really positive sum? Pardon my dark sense of humor.

My view from the hospital bed

The hospital room was non-aircon and we shared a toilet (gasp!). Good thing about SPH is that their food was okay, good, in fact. And I always got 2 packs each meal! I spent my days watching TV, Netflix, Masterclass, checking on my Mom in another hospital, zooming my friends, doing jumping jacks, and sleeping. I also did a lot of meditation with the help of YouTube videos. Oh and did I mention I celebrated my 40th birthday inside the isolation room with my co-positive roommate? I originally had big plans for my 40th during the pre-COVID months, and I thought at first that the plot twist of me contracting the virus would make me feel miserable, but surprisingly, I had genuine fun zooming with friends from all over the world who simultaneously sang the happy birthday song for me and blew virtual candles. I had a lot of time to reflect and to pick up stuff to learn from this experience.

After a week, I was cleared by the doctors and was discharged and sent home. The only medication I took while in SPH was my daily dose of Conzace and to gargle Betadine every after meal. It was the most expensive multivitamin regimen as I had nurses and doctors reminding me everyday about taking it.

So that’s my story. Just when I thought I had it bad with the passing of my grandmother and my mom’s 30-day hospitalization, my saga covered a bit of everything and everyone I hold dear – all in a span of 4 weeks. The greatest happiness for me and my family was for my mother to have survived the ordeal and is currently recovering at home.

I was just lucky that I was able to contain the information within a small circle of family and friends. I gave them very strict instructions not to divulge anything to anyone until I am ready. I knew right from the start the perils of the grapevine and how people will spin stories and how stories will result to judgment and discrimination. Most people find superficial comfort when they are able to point fingers or blame someone. With COVID, people are bound to actually blame the patient for being an incubus of viral plague. It’s insane. When someone contracts COVID, the patient did not want nor asked for it. An ill-informed community will condemn the person. But the more compassionate thing to do is to reach out (via call or text or messenger) to the positive and assure the person that he/she will be fine. Encourage them to fight instead of despising them for having the virus. For older people, the lack of emotional strength and encouragement can make them lose hope and give in to the battle. All because they don’t feel like they cannot do it anymore and the people around them have turned their backs in abandonment.

Now that this story is out in the open, I hope you guys find my experiences useful in order to protect yourself and your loved ones. Unlike other COVID stories, when I found out my mom was positive, I instantly locked myself in the house like a responsible human being that I am. You’ll be surprised to know that the person I am living with tested negative. That’s how we switched to careful isolation the moment I knew I was exposed. So your fear of the virus and panic will not help really. Just take careful, intelligent steps and you too will remain safe./PN

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