COVID-19 and The Filipinos in Austria
VIENNA—Austria, where I have been living since 1978, confirmed its first two COVID-19 cases in February 2020; since then, the WHO dashboard shows 475,979 confirmed cases and 8,582 deaths as of March 10, 2021. Daily updates at https://covid19.who.int/region/euro/country/at keep us informed and aware of the current situation.
Austria has had three Lockdowns since March 2020; the third Lockdown was lifted in February 2021. Schools, malls, museums, and hair salons were allowed to reopen, but protective measures, such as wearing face masks where required, maintaining social distance, etc., are still in place. People may only visit the hairdresser with a negative coronavirus test result valid for 48 hours. Tourism might resume in April, while sidewalk cafes may open at the end of March.
At last, a glimpse of light at the end of a long tunnel. To my friends in Vienna, especially my Pinoy friends, rejoice! Your resilience and unity inspire hope for us all.
During the initial outbreak of COVID-19 in Austria, there were no reports of Filipinos being infected until late summer 2020, when I received a frantic call from Cindy, a great-granddaughter of Filipino hero Dr. Pio Valenzuela. She shared her concern about a Filipino friend she met on the street, who tested positive for the virus a day later, reminding us how easily the virus can spread within our community.
Roughly 20,000 of the documented 30,000 Filipinos in Austria live and work in Vienna, the capital. The majority of these Filipinos are women, mostly nurses employed by State hospitals, nursing homes, or the United Nations in Vienna.
News spread like wildfire among the Filipino community here. Cindy was distraught and upset that she would only hear from others about her friend catching the virus. She was just a phone call away, but her friend preferred to remain mum.
Cindy could not forget that animated chat with this person, with goodbyes in high spirits and a promise to hear from each other again. It makes her shiver each time she gets reminded that she could have been infected and how easy the virus can spread. At 72, she belongs to that age group at risk of contracting the virus.
Scary movies popped up in my mind.
In December 2020, Austria began its coronavirus vaccination program, prioritizing people over the age of 65, those in nursing or retirement homes, Front-Line Workers, teachers, police officers, and those in the risk group. The vaccine will be available to the general public starting in April this year. To access the free vaccination, one has to register and wait to be scheduled.
In January 2021, the Austrian government began distributing, by post, a package of 10 FFP2 filtering face masks to its residents aged 65 or older. Code 2 in FFP is for filter efficiency. This is the required mask for everyone to wear when on public transport and in any enclosed establishment. Wikipedia informs that it “filters at least 94% of airborne particles,” providing greater protection against viruses.
Wearing a mask may provide some protection, but getting tested can make you feel better. In Vienna, you can go to any testing center for a free rapid antigen test. All other Bundesländer (Federal States) provide the same service. You get the result in 15 minutes, valid for 48 hours. Regular testing can help you stay safe and give peace of mind.
A Pinay friend was scared to death of the virus that she would have herself tested weekly until her local magistrate wrote her a letter, telling her that once a month should be enough.
Many Filipinos in Vienna are skeptical of the rapid test, saying you can have the virus in as little as 24 hours after that, so why bother? But wearing your mask, staying at home, and following safety rules are essential. Trusting these measures helps protect you and your loved ones.
Thus, the stories of Filipinos affected by the virus began in many ways.
A Filipino artist. In controlling the coronavirus in Austria, entertainment and other businesses, such as gastronomy and tourism, were greatly affected. Many performing artists suffered income losses because theaters, concert halls, and opera houses had to close. Suddenly, many freelance artists, including Abdul Candao—a Filipino pride in the world of classical music based in Vienna—found themselves without jobs.
Before the pandemic, Abdul was constantly performing in concerts in Austria and other parts of the world. A graduate of Voice from UST in the Philippines and the Vienna Music Conservatory, he has become a very well-sought voice mentor. Where he lives, there’s no elevator, but students and established classical music singers alike didn’t mind taking the steps of what is like a never-ending and winding staircase to his flat on the third floor—not for someone who has a weak heart—for an hour of a voice lesson.
Like many Filipinos and others who have to cope with the many necessities of life during the Lockdown, Abdul has become more focused than ever on managing his finances until life returns to normal. The government is making it happen faster. Its Ministry for Arts, Culture, the Civil Service, and Sport has established a fund that will support Freelance artists during the pandemic.
Unexpected Benefits. Not everyone has the same privilege as Abdul, but the Filipinos in Austria don’t mind. The Lockdown taught them how to be frugal. No more cinemas, shopping, eating out, or unnecessary beauty treatments. They used the pandemic to their advantage, learning to supplement their income by turning their hobbies, like cooking, into a profitable business. More siopaos, empanadas, and suman, please!
And for some, wedded bliss. Take Cindy. She dabbles in cooking, not her strongest asset, but she goes for it when challenged and has the right ingredients.
„Kesehoda mag hapon ko gawin! (I don’t care if it takes a whole day). It is gratifying and fills my day. And our tummies! And I get great compliments from my husband. So, it serves every purpose.” Indeed!
To keep me sane, I learned how to make pandesal and ensaimadas. Watch out, Mary Grace and Pandesal de Manila!
‘Alive at breakfast, dead seconds later.’ Carina Sarmiento is a long-lost friend I first met in Vienna 30 years ago. Like her husband, Manuel, she is a ka probinsya (from the same province). Somehow, we lost touch until my cleaning lady told me about this Pinoy collapsing dead from COVID-19. My left eyebrow arched automatically.
I dismissed it as another “balitang cuchero“—rig driver’s news; hearsay—until she mentioned a familiar name. I gasped! She had barely finished polishing the floor when I got an audio call on Messenger. It was Carina, replying to my message I wrote to her after locating her on Facebook. We talked about old times in Vienna when we were still knackig (crisp) and juicy. Then, about COVID-19. Her husband died after becoming ill with the virus, she confirmed. Alive at breakfast, dead seconds later.
At the workplace where Manuel, her husband, worked part-time, practically all his colleagues tested positive for the virus. Alarmed, Carina—a retired nursing aide—and Manuel took the virus rapid test. Carina was negative; not Manuel. He had to take the gargle test. The result was still positive, and he must stay at home for a 10-day quarantine. He developed a fever the day after, lasting for three days, from December 7 to 9. On the third day, when he didn’t get better, Carina dialed the emergency number for a rescue ambulance and mentioned that Manuel was in quarantine.
“If we listened to everyone who is not feeling well, the hospitals would be crowded with patients. Get your husband something to lower his temperature,” was the blunt reply.
Carina gave Manuel antipyretic tablets; the fever would come and go. Again, Carina called a rescue ambulance. This time, an emergency doctor came and prescribed Manuel antibiotics. That was on December 9. Eventually, the fever subsided.
Manuel seemed to be recovering until, on December 11, after breakfast, he fainted in his bedroom. A rescue team tried several times to shock Manuel back to life with a defibrillator. When Carina heard the flatline sound of the cardiac monitor, she knew they had lost him. He was declared dead at 11:39 a.m.—cardiac arrest. He was 73 years old.
On December 13, Carina, age 71, developed a fever of 38.9 °C. She tested positive and had to be home-quarantined for 10 days.
On December 26, she had herself tested again and came out clean. A few days later, while taking the stairs from the ground floor to her flat on the third floor, she felt a sudden irregular heartbeat.
Carina had to undergo lung X-rays, blood tests, and other emergency procedures. Nothing that alarming; it might just be due to stress from the harrowing experience of the previous days. It was awful; it could have claimed her life, she said.
She agreed to share her story so that the others—especially the many Filipinos she knew who didn’t believe the virus was real—could learn from it. By doing this, she believes that her husband’s death had not been in vain; there was a reason why her husband had to go—that others may live.
Recovered after 1 month. “My cousin has coronavirus!” That was my good friend and neighbor, Marylin, talking to me. We live in the same apartment building complex by the Danube River. She was distressed, which should not surprise me. Marylin, after all, is distress incarnate.
“Maybe from her dog,” she said. I was like, “Right, from her dog, my foot!” One gets the virus, and the poor dog gets the blame.
“Well, she doesn’t go out of the house much since her retirement.”
Cousin was Desiree, a former hospital attendant in one of Vienna’s State hospitals. She shares a 2-bedroom flat in Vienna with her husband, also a hospital staff member, their only child—a grown-up daughter—and Simba, their pet dog. The only time she leaves the house is to take the dog out for dog business, you know, three times daily.
Simba is a pampered family pet, getting a cuddle and a kiss on the snout every time. “No wonder! “One was quick to pass judgment. We called a doctor friend who may know more. “The risk of animals spreading the virus to people is low, but it is possible, yes!” was his verdict. Or the other way around, said the doubting Thomas that was me.
Desiree complained of fatigue and appetite loss for a week—no fever, so no worry there. No need to see a doctor either. Only when she began having dizzy spells and could not go to the bathroom without tripping did she agree to seek medical attention.
The doctor, after listening to her complaints, knew right away that Desiree had gotten the virus. She had all the symptoms but fever. “It felt like I was in a trance, floating, delirious,” she said, that even her doctor would not want to get any closer to her. That must have been the first time he had encountered a coronavirus patient, up close and personal. He ordered all the other patients waiting to see him to leave the place immediately and sent Desiree to the nearest hospital, where she passed out upon arrival. The next time she knew it, she was in another hospital, in the intensive care unit for one month and two days.
Desiree was delusional the first night, she told me. When lucid, she would have breathing difficulties despite the oxygen tank, with pneumonia aggravating her condition. Yelling at the top of her voice, she realized, helped ease her breathing problem, and she would do it on purpose day and night. It was contagious—the screaming; her roommate “caught” it in no time. Praying out loud helped as well. No wonder the nurses who had to monitor her were so unfriendly and harsh to her.
The screaming and praying out loud went on for days; it was like a madhouse until a doctor asked Desiree if she wanted to have something that would calm her down. She refused, remembering how her roommate had to be pulled out after getting intravenous medication meant to relax the nerves. The morning had broken, but in the room, it was still dark when Desiree, half asleep, heard someone screaming in panic, “Find Herr Doctor!”
In retrospect, Desiree honestly believed she would not survive. Her sisters—four of them, living in Vienna—did not think their elder sister would make it, especially when the attending physician told them it might be necessary to intubate Desiree. It could be the end of the line for their sister. They cried, prayed hard, and hoped against hope for a miracle.
A miracle happened, they knew, and their prayers were answered when Desiree recovered and was sent home. Her husband was tested negative—thank his medicine, a daily shot of vodka, he bragged. The daughter was asymptomatic and spent 10 days at home in quarantine. She may have given the virus to her mother.
And Simba, their dog? Acquitted of the crime.
Desiree, 65 years old, is now back to her old routines, like walking Simba. Now and then, she would experience breathing difficulty, hair fall, and other lingering signs of the virus. They are likely to happen, her doctor said. She may feel unwell for weeks and months during recovery, requiring regular physical checkups—uncomfortable words; the road to everyday life can be long and winding.
Since her recovery, Desiree has been reminding family and friends to follow simple precautions, such as wearing masks, avoiding crowds, and keeping their hands clean, to help stop the virus from spreading. Simple precautions I sometimes forget—despite my close call with the virus.
That was the day I was to bake my signature cheesecake, but I had none of that essential pure vanilla extract left, which I could not get anywhere in town but at the UN Commissary. Like any other UN retiree, I no longer have access to the place. Jeannie, another friend, said she could get me one. She was meeting her friend Viola, who could give her a lift to my place. Since we were running short of time, we agreed to meet at the parking lot of my apartment building. Jeannie immediately got out of the car when she saw me, hastily handed me that precious vanilla, and was back in the car in no time. Viola stayed in the driver’s seat, so we just waved at each other. Bye, see you soon, they said, and sped off.
See you soon has yet to happen. Two days later, Viola, age 73, was diagnosed with the virus. She contracted it from a friend—a cancer survivor—with whom she spent a whole day together that week. Viola’s symptoms were mild; she was up and running after a ten-day home quarantine.
And Jeannie? She took the rapid test. Negative. Should I? I didn’t come near Viola, really. I got paranoid and took the test.
Knock, knock, knock on Victor Wood—I passed the test. And baked that cheesecake.
————-
Published by Philippines Graphic
May 17, 2021