It’s the eve of Christmas, and I am watching my family through CCTV cameras. Save for brief interactions with them, my boys live separately from me- a sacrifice we all make to keep Alphonse safe- because I have been sick for many days now.
It started with headaches on our last day in Hong Kong, more than two weeks ago. Thinking it was just fatigue, I spent the whole day in bed in our hotel sleeping. My husband and I took the flight back to Manila early the next day, but by nightfall, I was running a fever. My throat felt like it had sand in it, my eyes were bloodshot, and my head was pounding. Every single joint in my body hurt. I stayed in bed the next day, and the day after that. That weekend, I developed pinpoint rashes in my arms, and some on my chest. By then, my voice was hoarse, my nose was running like an open faucet, and my body felt like I had gone through a 12-round bout in the ring. I was also coughing so badly that Anthony brought me to see the doctor.
I was prescribed antibiotics and steroids, and advised to stay away from family members. I stayed in quarantine for another week till I finished the last of my meds. I was feeling better, albeit not completely well, so I decided to shop for Christmas gifts late Tuesday afternoon. It was a mistake, I knew right away, as the teeming crowds made it hard for me to breathe. I was catching my breath each time I tried to speak. I was dizzy and exhausted after only an hour.
By Wednesday night, my throat was sore and painful again. On Thursday morning, my runny nose was back and I started coughing globs of sticky, brownish-green mucus. I could not get any sleep, and when I did fall asleep, I was awakened from these short, restless naps by more coughing. As I write this, my knees feel wobbly and my flesh feels shaky all the time. My abdominal and neck muscles burn from the relentless coughing. I haven’t had an abdominal workout this intense in years.
To make matters a little bit more challenging, all the nannies left yesterday. Undaunted, Anthony and Alex have willingly taken up the slack. Last night, Anthony took care of dinner, bathed Alphonse, and stayed with him till bedtime. They took three car rides in between, the longest one lasting for an hour. Alex took over at bedtime, watching his brother and singing him lullabies till the youngest one was asleep. This morning, Anthony gave the boys their breakfast and gave Alphonse his meds. When Alphonse accidentally soiled himself (wait, did I tell you that Alphonse has diarrhea today, of all days?), Alphonse’ “daddies” took turns washing Alphonse and cleaning up the mess. They do all these, even as they run inside the house every now and then to check up on me.
We communicate mostly through messages. I can’t talk much, I get winded too fast and I cough in between words. So I watch them through cameras, sending them messages and answering their questions on Alphonse and our household (like, “Mama, where are our spoons?”). Last night, I kept the television on CCTV mode, pretending they were all just with me in the room.
When I think about how we can’t all be together during this most special time, I am almost given to fits of despair, were it not for the brave men in my life. Watching them buckle down to work without complaints, without fanfare, without asking for anything in return, I am grateful that my life is blessed with their love and service. They’re keeping us together, even as we are physically apart.
This is love in action. I cannot think of a more fitting tribute to Christ this season.
Merry Christmas, friends and family, and we wish you love and peace always!