Switzer and Marner Catamin - Mandaluyong, Philippines

Switzer and Marner Catamin, in the dialysis centre hours before this interview

Switzer woke up in the hospital with no recollection of how he got there. He didn’t see himself fall, didn’t see his wife Marner’s call for help, didn’t see her and the landlord putting him into a neighbour’s tricycle to get him to the hospital as fast as they could. She is a nurse, trained for situations like these. Her calm demeanour only broke when they were at the hospital. But he didn’t hear her in the emergency room hysterically begging the doctor to prioritise him. Instead, he woke up under the white sheets, not knowing that he had been unconscious for 15 minutes. Not knowing that he had just had a seizure.

That was September 2019. But Marner noticed abnormalities in Switzer’s health long before that, with hints from as early as May 2018: high blood pressure, higher-than-normal creatinine levels, low haemoglobin levels, fevers, acid reflux. Still, he refused to go to the doctor (an attitude typical in Filipino society). That is, until the seizure.

It’s an experience Switz describes as “like being in a movie.” That day, they discovered blood on the surface of his brain along with dangerously high creatinine levels. An emergency dialysis was carried out there and then. His final diagnosis was end stage Chronic Kidney Disease. The only cure is a kidney transplant.

The couple’s lives changed overnight. All of a sudden, Switzer is taking nine pills a day. "His employers at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, where he works as a storage clerk, allowed him two rest days a week, separate from the weekend. Diet restrictions were suddenly in place, and Switzer can no longer go outside the way he used to. His life now revolves around his twice-weekly dialysis treatments. Basketball, a favourite pastime, is now completely off the table. But if things were difficult then, they were almost impossible now. With the pandemic sweeping across the world, what was already a heavily restricted life has become a jail sentence.

The first coronavirus case in the Philippines was recorded on January 30- a 38-year old Chinese woman in Manila. By February, Marner says that more and more patients were coming into the clinic where she works. Aside from symptoms now attributed to COVID-19, they all had one other thing in common: their travel history. Eventually, the entire island of Luzon was put under what the President called "enhanced community quarantine". “When our president announced that Manila will be put in lockdown, that’s the time I decided to tell my company that I wouldn’t come to work anymore,” she says. “Because I’m afraid that I will contract the virus, I will go into quarantine, I will not see Switzer. Who’s going to take care of him?”

As an immunocompromised patient, contracting the virus could mean the end for Switzer. But not going to work means that the couple’s income has taken a hit. “No work, no pay” is a slogan that has become all too familiar for many in the Philippines, where unemployment or sick benefits don’t exist. Marner says that she thinks money put aside for Switzer’s kidney transplant would have to be spent if the lockdown continues.

The couple were in a dialysis session just before the interview. A transport suspension was announced in March 16, when the administration imposed “enhanced” community quarantine in Luzon until April 12. With transportation now gone, what used to be a 15-minute commute to the center has now become a 45-minute walk under Manila’s blazing sun (she tried to ask for transportation system at the local barangay hall, but they couldn’t provide one, even after explaining that her husband was a dialysis patient).

Despite that, the couple are one of the lucky ones. Switzer tells me that other dialysis patients have to walk for more than an hour to get to their centre. “In the beginning, I thought the lockdown was okay, but it’s actually very difficult,” Marner says. “Yes, the lockdown helps to slow the spread of the virus, but it’s very difficult to live without transportation, especially in our case.”

Cupcake, the couple’s dog

Local government units have also started giving out quarantine passes to residents. In Marner and Switzer’s case, the quarantine pass only allows one person per household to leave the house. With dialysis needing to be done, this is already an issue. But the fact that the couple lives in a rented house with three other families, all sharing one quarantine pass, makes matters more complicated.

Some local government officials have dared to disobey presidential orders, and continue to dispute Duterte’s sovereignty. A favourite among some is Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto, who have let tricycles have a limited run in Pasig, citing health workers and patients as reasons. In response, President Duterte called on local government officials to “stand down” and follow government directives, saying: “There is only one republic here, the Republic of the Philippines, and therefore, you should abide by the directives of the national government.”

President Duterte is controversial to say the least. Marner admits with a laugh that she is an avid supporter (“A fanatic!” Switzer adds in the background), but Duterte’s actions during this pandemic have left her questioning the actions of the man she has defended for four years. “What Vico Sotto did in his city was good. His reason for allowing tricycles to operate was good,” she says. “I got annoyed at Duterte for criticising that.”

Switzer agrees. “The plan is a failure,” he says. “If I were to grade them, maybe four out of ten.” Marner addresses the President directly: “In the beginning, you told us to help each other. But now that even when you’re seeing that what the other Mayor did is good, you’re criticising it.”

At the time of writing, there are 380 confirmed cases in the Philippines, with 25 deaths and 17 recoveries. The numbers are expected to increase. Marner is worried that the government might call on all registered nurses in the country and force them to work. “I wouldn’t be able to say no. I took an oath. I’m registered, I’m licensed,” she explains. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

I ask Marner what’s making her happy at the moment. She laughs at me. “Happy? TikTok, maybe?” she asks. “It’s hard but I have Switzer, I have my sister here, my dog. But if you ask me if I’m happy, I’m not.” Needless to say, Switzer is on the same boat. “I’m scared, but there’s nothing I can do.” He says he’s grateful to have her with him. “I love her very much.”