A Day with Mommy

By Dr. Ella Mae Masamayor

“Tara, Ate, kain tayo.”

My mom took me out to lunch recently. It was nothing special. We had lunch at our favorite restaurant, choosing our favorite salad and mozzarella sticks. Then we walked around, looking at bags and clothes and other typical mall displays. Eventually, we were hungry again, so we snacked at a fro-yo stall. We shared one big serving of yogurt and fruit before finally going home. That was a really good day. It’s been a while since I had a really good day. Mommy always knew how to make a great day.

Before the pandemic, Mommy and I used to do this a lot. I found so much joy in going on dates with Mommy. We are not particularly adventurous people, so every date is just a version of that day I just described. Lunch. Strolling around. Some shopping. Probably dessert. Maybe coffee. Yes, definitely coffee.

We talk about everything and nothing all at once. What’s remarkable to me isn’t what we did, it’s that we got to do the date at all, after not being able to do it for so long. The lockdown pretty much put an end to my dates with Mommy for a while. I was still a resident physician during the pandemic, so I still had to go to work and see patients with COVID-19. I was too much of a risk to my family. I’ve heard one too many stories of patients the same age as my parents getting admitted for COVID-19. The thought of infecting my family was horrifying.

So for much of the pandemic, Mommy and I didn’t see each other. It wasn’t a very large distance apart (we still live in the same building, after all), but I refused to eat with them or go anywhere near them, especially at a time when so much was uncertain and unknown to us. We made do with video calls and messaging apps. We couldn’t eat out, go shopping, or even breathe the same air together. It was an abrupt transition, but we knew it had to be done. It was difficult on Mommy’s end, too. Aside from the general fear and anxiety from an unknown disease, I knew she wanted to be there for me. Her love language is service, and she always showed that through cooked meals we ate together, through coffee she prepared for me while I worked, or through random shopping dates to relieve us of stress. We couldn’t do any of that, and I know she struggled tremendously because of that.

As time wore on, we went in and out of quarantine protocols. It was difficult to tell when it was safe again, with surge after surge coming at us. Whatever horrors I would see in the hospital, I worried for my family at home. Eventually, just as things were looking up, two years after the pandemic started, my entire family still got COVID. Thankfully, they were all mild cases, but it was still another frightful series of staying indoors and staying put, and I was afraid all over again. Or, well, maybe the fear never really went away. Even now, COVID hasn’t exactly disappeared from our midst, and with it carries with it a pervasive fear and anxiety, and it’s not very easy to shake off.

And now, with most restrictions lifted and the world slowly beckoning us back out, there’s a lot of hope but also a lot of hesitancy. It’s not a sudden plunge back into activity, not as abrupt as how the lockdown came upon us. More of a slow, steady transition, like wading in the shallow waters before paddling toward the deep end.

I’m hesitant, but also hopeful for healing. There are restaurants, theaters, and concerts now. We get to attend weddings and birthday parties and baby showers again. And as simple as a date with my mom is, it’s comforting that I get to do this again, that we can calmly head over to the mall should either of us crave pasta, that we can share a meal or a fro-yo between us, that we can stroll around to look at shoes and bags without hurrying home—little things that we took for granted pre-pandemic.

I’m grateful that we get to start catching up on the great days that COVID-19 took away and never let us have. So much food not shared, stories not told, and hugs not hugged.  I’m looking forward to more dates with Mom, and to more face-to-face activities we can enjoy with our loved ones. The pandemic emphasized how important these small slices of time are, that these moments fill voids we only notice when they become mere memories. We have this aching need for human connection, this longing to be among loved ones and friends, and as much as social media connects us, there are places where it still painfully falls short. Video calls with Mommy were life-giving, but they could never compare to a day spent with her.

To all of us, may we have more days like this, days we share with our loved ones, days when we create a space for stories and memories we can look back on.

And to my mom, who makes every day a great day, I quote Taylor Swift,

“I didn't know if you knew

So I'm taking this chance to say

That I had the best day with you today.”

Dr. Ella Mae Masamayor is an internist, blogger, and podcaster. She co-hosts the Kwentong Callroom Podcast with her best friend and blogs about her thoughts at ellathinksaloud.wordpress.com.

| SHARE

Fear of Firsts

By Dr. Emmanuel II. G. Ruiz

The discovery of the novel coronavirus did not concern me and my colleagues then. I was the sole physician in a state university with fourteen thousand breathing souls to care for. I merely brushed aside the news, going about my grueling routine of health education and history taking, diagnosis, and treatment. I would go home each night and spend a few hours with my family at dinner and over the late-night news before retiring to bed, recalling the cases I saw earlier, hoping I made the right diagnosis and treatment.

The invaders were coming

As the coronavirus slowly inched into neighboring countries, taking a more definite shape, the thunder of cannons became audible, but the warning signs came from afar. We were tempted to join in conversations among campus employees that this virus would never cross the oceans that surround us nor survive our erratic climates. We recalled the earlier epidemics that never reached our shores. At that point we were more concerned of the detrimental health effects of the ash fall from Taal volcano, as winds swept the sulfuric ash towards Manila.

Then the first case of COVID-19 was identified in Manila. Then there were two . . . three cases—then came the announcement that there was local transmission already. It was as if the barbarians were already here, not only in our gates, but among us. Pieces of concrete were already falling on our heads as artillery rained around us. If this was a legitimate war, I would gladly surrender and shake hands with the conqueror to save the lives of many, but this was not.  The victims were innocent people.

The first action that our leaders did was to announce the suspension of work and classes. Everyone must stay at home. But we—together with security, janitorial personnel and the top brass— in the clinic remained. We stayed behind to make our campus free of the invader. We implemented protocols handed over to us by our health and national leaders. We were our own small circle of Schutzstaffel. Our campus became our fortress.  Anyone outside our circle would be considered an alien unless proven otherwise. And people hated us for this, but we stood fast, or at least I thought we would.

It did not take long before the non-medical personnel within our circle switched sides with the rest, questioning the protocols which we so faithfully followed. We pleaded for them to do likewise. The top brass no longer heeded our advice. They committed breaches of protocol whenever they wished. An unknown hand would sign and authorize actions that would unnecessarily expose others to the dreaded spiked foe. Finally, when the virus was found to be among us, our circle dissolved.

We in the clinic were frustrated but we pushed on. Let those who wished to listen follow. We reached out to those at home by creating videos and other materials. We posted them on social media platforms established for our university personnel and students.

Learning how to cook

We did not forget our families. Like pigeons with secret messages, we reached out to colleagues who were in the frontlines to include our families in the list to be vaccinated. Going home to our families was not easy at all. We had to make sure we did not bring the virus to our homes. Most of the time we stayed at home with our families. Our children had online schools. Our work on-site was limited. We hunkered down in our bunkers: we had our own circle here.

Since my wife and I were both physicians and were obliged to go to work, one of us finally brought home the virus. My wife tested positive. The whole family was instructed to stay on home isolation. She stayed in one room; the rest of us stayed together in another. I was promoted overnight—I became the household cook, a position I dreaded. I no longer had to cook canned goods and fried eggs or hotdogs. I had to cook a legitimate meal for everyone. YouTube was my online teacher. I was able to prepare adobo, tinola, nilaga—name it! My proudest moments were the times when I said, “Kainan na!

I made sure I put all ingredients with utmost care. Knowing my boys ate anything I cooked, and laughed about how darker the food looked after I fried it, I was a little concerned when they both exclaimed in unison that it was salty or too sour. My wife ate everything without objections. Thank God for ageusia.

In reality, the circumstances would have been bleak as the promised food supply from our barangay came a week late. If it weren’t for friends and siblings who handed fresh produce over our steel gate regularly, I would not be able to churn out freshly cooked ‘delightful’ meals for my family. When my wife finally finished her quarantine, I got kicked out of the kitchen, to the relief of my sons, but they hated the thought that the threat of my possible takeover as household cook still loomed as long as the pandemic was with us.

Family bonding

Aside from this nightmarish thought, the lockdowns, isolation and home quarantines did not produce negative reactions from our children. We bonded in all aspects. We waited for each other during meals, placed Netflix on pause until everyone had their butts glued to their seats and agreed to continue a movie some other time when one of us started nodding sleepily. Not that anyone was the least concerned, but no one wanted to relate the rest of the story to someone who slept through the rest of the movie. We saw everyone’s move, habits and got reprimanded for a deed gone wrong but saw good results. We were happier. We got used to the routine that watching the news show us the gradual loosening of restrictions resulted to mixed emotions. Returning back to the world was like entering the yawning jaws of the unknown, like my first day in clerkship, my first day of work, the first days of everything.

If the pandemic had any positive impact, it was knowing that my family was safe at home. I knew I would come home to find them where I left them. I knew that a sudden call on my mobile phone from one of my sons would just be to ask for the snacks we bought earlier, and not because someone mugged them in school. I knew that if I called them and on their mobile phones and no one answered, it would be just because they were busy with online school activity at home and not because their bags were snatched from them by another mugger.

Back to school

Now that daily face to face school is imminent, I feel my abdomen churn with anxiety. It feels like I’m sending my kids to school for the first time. This time, I’m having separation anxiety, not them. I may have prepared our university for the new normal by having most of our school population vaccinated.

But one thing is staring at me glaringly: the fact that I am not ready to let go of my kids. I have always been the resilient type. I adjust as I go along. I  make do with the meager supplies and personnel. I’m hopeful that I can keep myself preoccupied with my old routine and keep myself from worrying about my sons in school.

I thank God for having spared my family from COVID-19, but I am even more grateful for the realization that nothing is more important than family. Continuing to protect them when others would see it unnecessary was worth it. God has given me a time to reset, to teach, not only my children but also the fourteen thousand souls at work, and send them back out to the world again.

Emmanuel II G. Ruiz, M.D. is from the Technological University of the Philippines (Manila Campus). He writes, “I am as interesting as anyone else from the PCP.”

| SHARE

I hope this virus goes away for good

By Dr. Michelle Angela Tan-Reyes, MD, FPCP, FPCCP

I am a pulmonologist. I have been in PAPR/hazmat suit for a long time since I cater to COVID patients. My husband is an interventional cardiologist. We have invested in expensive protective gear because we go straight home to our three kids. We strip down in our garage so no virus can come in.

In-person sports training

When safety protocols were being lifted, I felt ambivalent. My kids were finally allowed to do in-person sports training after two years of doing it online. My daughter did volleyball and my son did basketball. It was both frustrating and funny to watch. I was the most excited when they were about to do their training face to face, but I was also very scared. But they have completed their vaccinations by the end of March. They eventually began face to face training in April. For three months, I watched each and every one of their training sessions. I would fret each time I saw them with their maskless teammates (but who can train with masks on, especially kids?!).

We were frontliners for two years, but we didn’t get the virus. But one day my daughter came in and reported one of her teammates was sick.  After a week, 10 of the teammates got it, after 2 weeks, all their household members were infected, including ours. My whole family had COVID, even our yayas, except me.

Teleconsults

I had so many teleconsults during the pandemic. They consumed my day. I thought they would  be gone once we resumed face to face consults, but I was wrong. My teleconsult platform is resurrected each time there is a surge of COVID cases. Patients would consult online when they have COVID. They were scared to get COVID by going to the hospital. Some patients found teleconsults more convenient.

Personally though teleconsultation has been more tiring for me because it takes time away from the children even if I am home. But I think it  is here to stay because it can be convenient for both doctor and patient.

I hope this virus goes away for good. I can’t wait to remove my N95. I can’t wait to see other people’s faces. I can’t wait to go out again, without fear.

Michelle Angela Tan-Reyes, MD, FPCP, FPCCP is affiliated with the Asian Hospital and Medical Center, Rizal Medical Center and Cardinal Santos Hospital. She gave birth during the pandemic then went on to see COVID patients. As she writes in this piece, she never got COVID.

| SHARE

Riding Tides: Finding love in this global pandemic

By Dr. Patricia Kaye B. Regalado

Hospital duties

I was a third-year resident in Internal Medicine when my boyfriend and I finally decided to end our six-year relationship. That was in May 2020, early in the pandemic. Only two months had passed since lockdown protocols were implemented.

I went to my hospital duties with a different mindset. I felt anxious going to the hospital, thinking that for my tour of duty, I would be handling severe and critical COVID patients admitted at the ICU. I did not have a definite plan on how to survive every duty since not a lot was known about COVID yet. It was a relief to know that I was not the only one.

It was a tiring, roller-coaster ride every day in the hospital—from praying for a benign duty, feeling grateful for the provided PPE and free meals, to comforting the patients as well as the relatives who could not be with their loved ones during their hospital stay. Everything was new. But the loneliness was not new, only that it was of a different kind.

Being single during the pandemic hit me differently. To be honest, I was really looking for love—everywhere, every chance I could get. I was sad being alone. I knew I was tired after hospital duties. But being tired and lonely was too much for me.

I realized that the pandemic has created an abundance of single people. I tried dating again. All the restaurants were closed, and everyone was advised to stay at home. It was difficult to meet people, but I met new people from recommendations from my friends and from dating apps.

Dating apps

Difficult times called for difficult—and desperate—measures. I’d never imagined using dating apps to meet people, as if hospital duties and meeting all kinds of people from different walks of life were not enough. My friends were using the app, too. Dating apps were not as taboo as before. The people I met through the app were decent, and they shared the same interests as I did. It was a new way to connect to people, and it helped me a lot.

On meeting the right one

It wasn’t a walk in the park. My dating life was as tiring and as unpredictable as my hospital duties. I met a lot of people and made good connections. However, consistency was not as easy to maintain. The limited places to visit and restaurants to try were some of the endless excuses to not meet. How do you meet people when they’re all confined at home? How do I meet people when I’m consumed by my hospital duties? Traditional dating was history. Zoom dates were preferred. Transferring money to pay for Zoom dates and food deliveries were conventional. Seeing my date on the screen was the new normal. I couldn’t complain, but it was never the same. After about a hundred reasons and alibis given, I finally found the right one.

Buzzing Viber group

My Viber did not stop with the notifications. They asked the same question: How did you manage to find a boyfriend during this pandemic? It seemed a little complex. They even asked for dating tips.

Fidel did not know how to date at the start of the pandemic. That was all right. I did not know, too. We had our own excuses to not meet after the first date. “I have duty this weekend; I’m more toxic now, I have more patients to round,” I told him. I never really liked him.

He said, “I’m scared I might get COVID; I can’t go out because I don’t feel well. I think I have COVID.”

After a few restricted weekends spent with Fidel, we finally felt the right connection. It was different at first: two years into the pandemic, and here was someone who was the epitome of consistency.

How COVID gave me the best love

I’m now doing my fellowship in Infectious Diseases—more COVID cases, more reasons to not see me. But Fidel was different.

In a sense, COVID gave us opportunities for superficial relationships because of all the restrictions. It made us think that, perhaps, a potential deep and true love was impossible at this time.

However, the pandemic also gave the best reasons so Fidel could be the best boyfriend in the world for me. While restaurants were closed, he picked me up from the hospital with take-out food, or he made sure we passed by a drive-through to get something to eat. He knew how long my work days were.

Now he makes sure we still go on dates with al-fresco dining. He Googles these places lists them on paper. We don’t use Zoom for dates anymore. He shows up, every day and on time. He sits next to me and holds my hand—this has been the safest I had ever felt. He has brought me to places I have never been even before pandemic. He would send me a message: “I’m on my way to you.”

Patricia Kaye B. Regalado is a second-year infectious disease fellow at the UP–Philippine General Hospital. She says, “I have loved writing since I was in high school, but I stopped writing right before I entered college. I don’t know why—all I know now is I really miss it. Fidel, my boyfriend, is a professional golfer, and a very good one at that.”

| SHARE