Waking up to COVID-19 wasn’t the abrupt crash I’d expected. It was, instead, a calm morning, but one that didn’t exactly feel normal.

It started when my grandmother started showing symptoms of fatigue, fever, and heavy breathing. I assumed she was just feeling the side effects of taking care of me, since I had a really strong fever a week prior, but something was off.

We decided to bring her to a local hospital, not too far from where we lived. My grandmother was given tests, among them a swab test. I figured, whatever was causing her strong fever was most likely something she had gotten from me. 

I was on edge, thinking it could be the coronavirus, but we needed first to be sure. It wasn’t impossible. I’d been going out for groceries and volunteering at relief operations, among other things, ever since quarantine restrictions loosened in Cebu. On many occasions, I would also take my mask off in public to eat or drink water.

I always thought I was careful enough to keep from being infected, making sure I bought extra face masks and face shields in case of emergencies. I even had vitamin packs in my pocket at all times. But somewhere down the road, I may have miscalculated. 

We waited 3 days for my grandmother’s results, and when it did arrive, it wasn’t pleasant. At around 9 pm, two vans arrived on our village street and barred each end of the residential area. Five men in hazmat suits politely asked to enter our house and began disinfecting each nook and cranny of our home.

Confirmed: my grandmother had COVID-19.

My grandmother was shocked, while I felt extremely guilty. I knew I had done this to her. I had done it unknowingly, but I still felt the weight of responsibility. Had I not been out too often, I would’ve probably kept her from getting infected. I was her only direct contact. My father was also with us at home, but he was a PWD — a stroke survivor. It wouldn’t have made sense for him to be the carrier, since he was barely mobile enough to step outside.

I had to shake this feeling off, so I asked the contact tracer handling us at that moment if there would be another swab test to follow. They told me that they would be back 5 days later for a second test. In the meantime, we would be put in isolation for 14 days, with a cordon placed around the house to prevent people from coming in.

After our second swab test, my father’s results turned out negative. But I was, as I’d feared, positive.

My first thought was: “I was right.” Then came a flurry of anxiety, guilt, and depression. It was agonizing. I had to up my dosage of melatonin just to get rest every night. It wasn’t the coronavirus that was causing my pain, but rather the fear I felt of possibly losing my family by my own hands. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

I called my mother who was living in a separate house to tell her that I had COVID-19, and she told me to be strong. I knew I had to be. So, I decided that I needed to focus on work and start exercising. It was for the best; I needed the distraction.

This went okay. I would wake up, check on my grandmother, exercise, then get to writing for work. Some mornings were different, as I would sometimes feel some difficulty in breathing. But I would just shrug it off, since I’d feel better later in the day. At night, I’d often talk with my friends, since trying to sleep was already an issue I had.

Later, things started to get much better. My grandmother’s health returned to normal and I’d gotten in good shape as well.

But if I’m being completely honest, I was still incredibly stressed. I had learned first-hand how difficult it was to wake up in the morning full of anxiety and an unwillingness do anything. It was in those moments that I realized how scary and upfront COVID-19 was, and that things would have been a lot worse if I didn’t have the things I had.

If I were less fortunate, I don’t think I would have survived that ordeal, especially without psychosocial support, but a lot of people had to go through all of that while being disadvantaged. It’s just awful how many of these Filipinos there are.

The way I watched the days stretch into weeks was debilitating, but eventually, I had to persevere with my work and my writing. The world had to know just how depressing it is to wake up to COVID-19, to see your own family struggle, to be shown how thin the line was between breaking down and staying strong. It was my responsibility. – Rappler.com

John Sitchon is a reporter for Rappler’s Cebu bureau.