Author: Neyzielle Ronnicque

Ilocos Norte is so proactive on the fight against COVID-19, it’s relieving.

When I decided to go home from the fear of being locked down again for I don’t know how long in Metro Manila, I knew it will never be a smooth ride. Securing the necessary documents and passes was a bother, but the longing for a safer haven was stronger.

I was supposed to go back two months earlier, but I felt like the danger of me going home poses a greater danger to my family, so I stayed a little bit longer, working from home, locked from the outside world of my neighbors who never stopped fixing their houses from day one.

But then came the exponential growth of positive cases, and my community wasn’t disclosing necessary information about the rumors of COVID-positive patients in the area. Still, we stayed religiously at home, but the fear of contracting the virus was overwhelming it kept me awake at night.

I stressed over the circumstances, until one day, my friend went to process her documents – she was finally going home. I did not know what to do. Where should I go? Should I stay in Novaliches for the time being? Because I can’t afford to stay alone in our boarding house any longer. But I want to go home. How can I go home? So I waited until she was able to secure her travel passes.

Without any concrete plan on how to reach Ilocos, I started processing my papers, too.

I booked a flight to Laoag when I have finally submitted the travel authority requirements at the police station. But just when I thought the plan was working out well, Philippine Airlines cancelled my flight. Pays to have a plan B, though, —my neighbor was going home a day earlier than I was supposed to, so I asked him if it’s okay to hitch a ride. He said yes.

Rumors about Metro Manila going back to the ECQ situation started roaming around social media, so we planned on leaving the Metro before the 16^th – that’s what we did.

We reached the Ilocos Norte-Sur border at around 2AM—it is the strictest border control along the Northern strip, indeed. Our identities were verified, our temperatures were checked, nurses on duty interviewed us to know more about our travel history and whom we came to contact with, and after all the protective measures, we were told to wait for the representatives of out local government unit (LGU).

Our town’s protective measures were even more efficient. Staff and nurses from Bacarra Municipal Health Office and MDRRMO came to fetch us at 10AM (yes, we stayed inside the car for that long—no biggie, though, we just slept); they drove us all the way to our Barangay Isolation Units; disinfected our baggage; disinfected the rooms for the second time; and coordinated our stay with the BHERT officials.

Pseudo-home, at last. Back to my safety-net.

But it wasn’t the end for my long journey. I needed to transfer to a hotel because I cannot work with other people around me—with all the meetings and late-night part time work to consider. So, our very efficient nurses drove me back to a hotel in Laoag using the municipal ambulance.

Hotel rooms don’t scare me—with all the solo traveling around the world that I did, but my alter ego was screaming “14 days is too long, you’re going insane!”

But it wasn’t so bad. Food were delivered directly to my hotel room, nurses came to check my temperature every morning and night, hotel staff were helpful and accommodating, and above all else, my family and friends came to visit me from time to time to bring food I devour alone. My youngest brother was also a nurse on duty for a few days, and the idea of him being so close to me made the stay bearable.

I also enjoyed being curled up like a burrito because of the coldness from the aircon that I never turned off (lol, I did few times a day); the long hot showers; and the deafening silence every night when I assess my decisions in life.

This wasn’t exactly the scenario I imagined when I get back to Ilocos, but at least the health care system is far way better here than in Quezon City. I felt bad, for sure, because on our first day, the provincial government announced two new cases in the province, after having none for the past two months. I was scared. People were blaming the Balik Probinsya Program, and I for sure wasn’t confident at all.

Until the government sponsored another free Rapid testing. The result came out negative, and although there is a 50% chance of it being inaccurate, at least it lessened the dread.

Ilocos Norte is so proactive on the fight against COVID-19, it’s very, very relieving and reassuring. Other provinces in the north don’t even come close. This is how my province fight the pandemic, when others don’t even do the bare minimum. I just wish other provinces will do the same.

Until then, at least I’m back to my safe haven.

As the roof makes this steady, calming sound from the raindrops pouring nonstop, my mind effortlessly wandered to my what if wonderland.

What if I was home today? What if I just stopped writing that thesis? What if my Papa gets sick? What if my Mom is not okay? What if my brothers get married? What if I accepted that scholarship? What if I move to a city that no one actually knows me? What if I stop caring? Like totally?

There is just too many what if’s, it’s flooding my being; and I am swept by the strong current of frustrations creeping in .

Today it rained, and as the thunders roar from the distant, my inner struggles did, too. I am mad, I am disappointed, and I am frustrated. I am not myself, and I know I am not supposed to be feeling this way. There is just too much things inside my head that I can never name of, and it’s making me irritated all the more.

Is life supposed to be this way? Do we live life to experience a momentary happiness and then it comes crashing in a heartbeat so next thing we know, we are empty, we are crying, and our spirals hold us captive we can’t break fee.

As if in some sort of divine intervention, the visible ray of the sun beamed bright, but it’s raining. It’s raining, but it’s bright. How am I supposed to make sense of that?

Then I realised, I was back to entertaining my pity-party. I am feeling my age and it exhausts me to the brim. It is a never-ending tightening spiral that I can never let go of. It is a sporadic pendulum that makes living a dread.

I guess what I am just trying to say is, today it rained.. and rain either makes me feel good, or it makes me a bitter crap. Today it rained, and even if how much I try to calm myself and submit to denial, I feel sad, alone, lonely.. and afraid. I have no one to tell that to.

Today it rained. So hard that I feel like giving up.