Oath-taking day - Day 14 of the Covid-19 lockdown

The Danish flag flies above the flags of the four other Nordic countries.
At Tønder, the border to Germany. Photo mine.

DAY 14 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark.

Today's the day I would've gone down to the municipal hall of Ballerup to take my oath as a Danish citizen, sealed with a handshake.

I don't know whether the state will choose to waive the handshake requirement or whether at some happy time in the near future the grundlovsceremoni will take place at last, setting in motion the process by which I may become a dual citizen of Denmark and the Philippines.

Eleven and a half years have elapsed from when I moved here, my mind made up at last, ending years of flying back and forth on short-stay visas. These past days I've been thinking a lot of what it means to be a naturalized citizen of this country, as well as the things that I had to give up when I left mine. Of the moments of disappointment, the loss of status, the self-doubt, the irrevocable choices, the stymied expectations (oh, I didn’t become American after all!), the burning of bridges. But also the rediscovery of talents, the opening up of language, the recovery of routine, the delight of travel, and -- once I had rejoined the workforce -- the feeling of making a difference in people's lives. And the growing realization that the welfare state with its exemplary health care system had my back.

***

When I began writing these daily updates, I was reeling from the shock of the unexpected nationwide lockdown to stem the spread of the novel coronavirus. The updates were a way to deal with what was, at the time, an inconvenience, a disruption. In the first days much was made about the mad rush for toilet paper, and it was necessary to spend hours on the Internet in an attempt to find out how people were responding to the COVID-19 threat, which in turn was an attempt to divine the future, my future. The notion of a collective fate was a far-off concept. And I actually thought that by the time the two weeks were over, we would be getting ready to step out of lockdown, relieved to have weathered the storm, eager to get back to work and to share lockdown survival tales with colleagues. But as the news turned from the merely worrisome to dire I felt the need to keep going.

The last few years I haven't had the confidence nor the energy to produce written -- much less literary -- work of my own. I've devoted most of my writerly energy to helping other people develop theirs. But as happens when you begin to articulate your thoughts, more come pouring in. New thoughts, new ways of expressing them -- a running commentary in the back of your mind.

So it may be time now to turn back to my unfinished stories, before the window of opportunity provided by this lockdown closes for good.

Plants bloom in the spring, or with the first rains, when conditions are most favorable for the perpetuation of their kind. But they put out flowers, too, when they are stressed, as their systems throw their resources into a desperate gamble to reproduce their genes or risk extinction.

Day 13 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

 Day 13 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

It's been a busy day for me, working on a project in the morning, then meeting with my colleagues online, and later in the afternoon, heading off to the now-empty building in Copenhagen where I usually teach, to gather some materials I will need for on-line teaching in the coming weeks.

This included making copies of a few pages from a TOEFL reviewer, a cumbersome book that weighs a kilo and a half, which I carried in my arms to my workplace and back. There are 744 pages in it, plus the table of contents. If all the lives of all the people who died in Italy today, the 24th of March, were compressed into 500 words and printed, this is how heavy their story would feel.

In the train, I eye my fellow commuters surreptitiously. None of the natty blond men in their narrow trousers and cognac oxfords with matching briefcases: they would all be working from home. These travelers are slightly rumpled, in heavy shoes and oversize worker pants: the service people who need to keep the city going, COVID or not. They sport interesting ways to protect themselves: some pull their turtleneck sweaters up over their noses, others burrow into the stovepipe collars of their jackets, some have donned surgical masks and face shields. People use their elbows and the sleeves of their jackets to press the train door buttons. We keep our distance, moving in a strange zombie shuffle to avoid barreling into each other. A tiny cough here and there draws nervous glances. I've been hankering for a big bad burger for days. At McDonald's, there are four kids at the counter to serve the lone takeaway customer, me. At Kongens Nytorv, a woman feeds a flock of pigeons. When she leaves, the bag of crumbs all gone, they wheel around the square. I don't know whether they are happy or distressed, or just being birds.

On the return, I pass the same way. The square is empty except for rows of bicycles -- cool and melancholic in the blue hour. So ends this day.

Day 12 of the Covid-19 lockdown in Denmark

Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen announces that the lockdown will continue until April 13.

***
I remember how, in February, undergoing physiotherapy for a bad ankle and elated that the warm winter had given me a headstart on the hard spring garden work, I said, "Oh I wish I had a few extra weeks to myself. I need to heal, to stop limping around Copenhagen, to quit being a martyr to fitness. I wish we weren't going to Sicily this Spring, much as I love any chance to travel. If only I had a little more time to paint. And to write, to write every day... there are stories that have been struggling to get out of my system for years."
If it were only possible to tune out now, respin the cocoon, pretend my small loop of house and fields and trees and water was all there was to the world.
***
I take a walk, alone, in the golden hour... or is it the blue hour? It's 3 degrees above zero. Everything is still, sharply etched, no jet trails in the sky.

Day 11 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark. March 22.

Denmark presents a more aggressive its testing policy -- now everyone exhibiting mild to moderate symptoms, newborns and their mothers, as well as those performing critical functions in the health sector, must be tested. But first, the supply of testing kits must be replenished.

At present, 232 COVID-19 patients are in hospital, 46 in the ICU. 13 have died.
***
In Italy, a further 651 deaths. It has been a month since the first coronavirus patient was detected there. It is incredible that it has only been 14 days since their nation-wide lockdown on the 8th.
***
In Germany, it is forbidden for more than two persons to meet up in public areas, and Chancellor Angela Merkel goes into quarantine.
***
Around the world, 1 billion are now confined to their homes.
***
Filipinos online mourn three doctors, all of whom have died from COVID-19. These deaths were preventable -- in one case, had a patient only disclosed their history of travel.
***
I grew up on the campus of Silliman University, where my parents were both teachers. It is a place that has had a historic association with the United States, on account of its Presbyterian missionary founders. And for two generations and more, it has trained batch after batch of excellent nurses, many with their eyes set on careers in America (and more recently, the UK, Australia, Ireland, the rest of the world) after gaining enough experience in local hospitals. There is a high proportion of nurses as well as doctors, medical technologies and physiotherapists, among my contemporaries and close friends from back in the day. Of my 16 first cousins on my mother's side, 8 trained as nurses and all but one has worked in the States.
In a message yesterday one of them wrote: "Unfortunately the entire country is in dire need of all the equipment necessary to take care of COVID-19 patients. It is the government that needs to step up their game. Trump has no clue at all what is going on."
They are on an uneasy and already demoralized frontline.

Day 10 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

Denmark has run out of a reagent necessary to test for coronavirus; testing of healthcare personnel will have to be halted until supplies arrive. 11,657 have been tested, 1327 found positive, 206 hospitalized, 42 in the ICU. 13 have died.

100 million Danish crowns have been sent to foreign countries to help them fight COVID-19.

In Italy, the death toll rises by another 793. 4,825 in all have died.

In Manila, COVID-19 carries away University of the Philippines professor and sinologist Aileen SP Baviera, 60, who had contracted the coronavirus at a conference in Paris.

***

I speak to my father via Facebook messenger. My mom, dad and nieces are fine in Dumaguete City, Philippines, which has taken the additional step of shutting down malls and shops. Only pharmacies, grocery stores and banks can remain open. Public transportation is still operational, though in this comparatively small Asian city, public transpo means motorcycles with sidecars, anachronistically called "pedicabs." The drivers rove the streets in vain; there simply aren't enough passengers to achieve a decent day's income.

We agree that this may be the one year since I migrated to Denmark that I won't be able to come home. We don't know what the situation will be like by summer. Which areas of the world will be considered high-risk? Will there be flights? Quarantines? Closed borders? When will the situation peak in the Philippines? The US? The UK? Maybe we will be spared the fate of Italy. We don't know. But I'm relieved he and my mother have accepted my possible absence; were in fact about to advise me to stay where I am.

***

I take a walk, trying to smile and greet everyone I encounter along the path. Most smile back, but no one speaks to me. The day is beautiful, but people seem closed in, in the winter manner. Under an old coat, I have on a nice outfit -- pinstripes -- something I would wear to teach. It helps to imagine that, when all this ends, we can get back to our old normal.

Day 8 of the Covid lockdown in Denmark

Worried by an earlier World Health Organization recommendation that people suffering COVID-19 symptoms refrain from taking ibuprofen, I call my doctor first thing this morning. Ibuprofen is a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug, and I have been taking NSAIDs nearly every day for most of my life. There are concerns NSAIDs might interfere with the body’s immune system in some way.

Today, however, the WHO has changed its position, writing on its official Twitter account: “Based on currently available information, WHO does not recommend against the use of ibuprofen.”

Still, I need my doctor’s advice. In the last year or so, I have been taking naproxen, another NSAID, on a daily basis, to alleviate pains in my joints which have worsened with age, weight gain, and, yes, exercise. My doctor thinks I should stop taking naproxen IF and when I am infected (or suspect I am infected) with the coronavirus. Which means it is safe to continue at present.

I am well. But this is all the more reason to stay home and observe social distancing, keep updated on developments, and listen to the recommendations of experts. And consult with your physician if you have been prescribed NSAIDs. So much is unknown about COVID-19.

***

Leaders of the political parties in parliament appear together at a press conference to announce an increase (to 107 billion Danish crowns) in the economic assistance they are extending to businesses and individuals. The optics are remarkable: left wing and far right and all in between standing gravely behind a trio of lecterns, to address the country in turn.

***

A five-star restaurant assembles luscious meals for the doctors and hospital workers attending to coronavirus patients. Fifty respirators normally used in veterinary clinics around the country are on standby.

Day 7 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

Day 7 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark.

The Danish government unveils a 40 billion-kroner assistance package to keep small businesses (less than 10 employees) afloat through the lockdown. It will cover 75% of losses, capped at 23,000 kroner per month, applicable to those businesses that have lost more than 30% of sales. Restaurants and the like which remain open in violation of the lockdown will be fined 5,000 kroner.
***
A phishing site pops up, pretending to be the Board of Health’s (Sundhedsstyrelsen).
***
We look with hope to warmer spring days, to the long yellow sunbeams filled with ultraviolet light and the brisk winds that, while strong enough to disperse droplets many meters through the air, also serve to scatter the viruses within them into ineffective particles. Or so a microbiology expert on DR1 tells us.
We pray for nature’s intercession; empirical science is our religion. Confirmations (such a huge ritual for many 15-year olds and traditionally held throughout the month of May) are postponed to after Pentecost.
***
I meet more students on-line, and paint a little. I put off sending the emails, to friends in one of the worst-hit areas, that I have been thinking about for days. It's hard to find the words.

Day 6 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

Day 6 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark.

Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen underlines the need to break the chain of contagion, announces even more stringent measures. Public assemblies of more than 10 persons, whether indoors or out, are now prohibited. Indoor sports and facility centers, and establishments such as tattoo parlors, sports halls, and other establishments where patrons are in close quarters are likewise closed. Malls and shopping centers must close, except for stores where people can buy groceries, supplies and medicines. Restaurants, cafes, bars and other places serving food must be closed to patrons. The rules will be applicable from 10:00 am tomorrow, the 18th of March, until the 30th of March.
***
People with experience, any experience at all, in health care have been urged to sign up with one of the five regions in Denmark (context: health and hospital care is administered by region). These might be retirees, people educated as nurses who have chosen other lines of work, or medical students. As of today, 10,000 people have registered.
***
In a five-minute speech immediately after the press conference, Margrethe II, queen of Denmark, addresses the nation. This is unprecedented: up until today she has spoken to her constituents only on New Year's Eve. Calling the novel coronavirus a dangerous guest, she appeals to the nation to follow the clear-cut advice of the authorities and break the chain of contagion. What we do right now will impact how the situation develops. She chides as "thoughtless" those who have continued to host birthday parties and congregate in social situations. She does not end her speech with the customary "Gud bevare Danmark." (God save/keep Denmark). It is a reminder that our fate is in our hands.
***
Some stats for context: 977 people infected, 82 people are in hospital, 18 in serious condition, 4 deaths. Denmark's population: 5.5 million. Population of the Copenhagen area: 1 million. First recorded coronavirus case: February 25.