Post Sinovac Imbroglio (First Part)

At first, there was the well-documented heaving of the arm - the part, at least - where the needle had pierced the skin. Forced out from the syringe was a vial's worth of re-engineered proteins, proteins that form a part of the viral molecule that has been turning our world upside down for almost two years now. I would have believed that it was the first step in achieving immunity and we were, for our part, have announced that I have taken the jab to the collective joy of everyone. But it was just the beginning. The agony would happen a day after the lull of the body had finally put the mind at ease.

On the third night, my body felt like collapsing unto itself. Muscle aches and soreness kept me from getting out of the bed and the cold hands and feet have succeeded in generating enough body heat that I had a mild fever before I've gone to bed. 

The next morning, the symptoms have disappeared, except for the sudden flaking of the skin where psoriasis has gnawed steadily into my left leg. I even had enough strength to go out of the house and had the car's registration renewed. But all those struggles to walk to the nearest ATM booth a few blocks away from the LTO office might have taken a toll. It didn't help that instead of going home to recuperate, we drove to Farmers Cubao to buy some flowers for the Weatherman's sister. She was celebrating her birthday that day.

So I limped all the home from the parking lot with a body pulped and shivering from the cold. Before going to bed, I took a Paracetamol in anticipation of the onset of fever. That evening, my temperature shot beyond 39.0 degrees celsius. 

By then, all symptoms point to the dreaded Covid virus. My chest was heaving. I had difficulty breathing. To make sure I was within the threshold, I held my breath for at least 15 seconds before pushing the air out my lungs. Lower than that count would mean I was running out of oxygen. To protect my family and to put to rest their suspicion, I just step out of the room for bathroom breaks and meals. Only the Weatherman stayed with me throughout my ordeal.

The next day, my skin began turning crimson red and it was very difficult to get out of bed. I moaned in pain every time I tried to get up. My left limb felt it was hacked in two, and all those aggressive and often violent skin scratching had infected my psoriasis. I had to drag my left leg across the hallway and into the master's bedroom toilet to pee.

On the third day, anxiety began to cloud my judgment. The only thing missing from the list was a bad cough or a mild sore throat. Had the symptoms of Covid continue to present themselves, the plan was to gather enough strength, make the most daring and outrageous drive to the Weatherman's house in General Trias in Cavite to isolate and keep my condition a secret, except to my mom. 

Who would have thought such a bold plan to protect me, and my loved ones backfire spectacularly right before my eyes?

- to be continued -