One of my tasks every day except Sunday is to go through the list of Covid-19 cases — those who got sick, those who recovered, those who died. It is a task I don’t take lightly. I review each piece of information carefully and conscientiously, watching out for errors and inconsistencies. When I miss out on something, I can be very harsh on myself. It is after all my duty to give the proper information.

At the start of the pandemic, the list was not a list. It was but one figure, sometimes two, merely a cause for concern but nothing to be frightened about. But as the crisis wore on, the list became a list, getting longer and longer with each passing day. So acquainted have I become of the list that I could see patterns and at times venture projections. At one point, the trajectory of the list took a turn for the better. That is, it was whittling down. Unfortunately, the virus was smarter than us, and soon enough the list started getting longer once again.

But it wasn’t merely a list.

Behind each patient information is an actual person who loves and is loved. Behind each patient is a set of family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances worrying for their loved one and for themselves, and behind them a set of barangay volunteers and officials, social development workers, health care workers, and local government employees working to contain a seemingly unmanageable crisis.

I feel too much perhaps, but it cannot be helped. There is much too much to be gathered from this list, and at times it could be downright heartbreaking.

But carry on we all must. We don’t have a choice.

My most fervent wish is to see this list dwindle, dwindle down to the hundreds, to the dozens, to a handful, until the list is no longer is a list, until it is merely a cause for concern and nothing to be frightened about.

Typewriter photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Laptop photo by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash