COVID Diaries 1

 

The song "Love Story" starts with the line, "Where do I begin, to tell the story of how great a love can be?"  I would like to now begin by borrowing that opening line and say, "Where do I begin,  to tell the story of.... what a journey this COVID can be?"  So much has happened since my last entry here on March 23. I feel as if I traveled around the world and back. It has been a long journey - of descent into the darkness of illness, to the gradual ascent back into a new chance at life. Though it has been more than a month since I returned home from a 9-day stay at the hospital, I have not yet sat down to write about the whole experience. But I shall gradually attempt to do so now.

Fever and pain actually started last March 21. By that time, I was already at least four days into self-isolation, which started on the eve of March 17. I felt generally fine on those four days even as my husband and one of our children exhibited covid symptoms and were also into their own self-isolation. During that time, I still tried to do therapy work, albeit with some cancelled sessions due to the need to attend to health needs of the family. I was also still able to attend yoga class. I had the gall to even jokingly declare to others that perhaps I had the strongest lungs in the family, since I could do the yoga inversion poses which required some lung strength.

But on that fateful Sunday, my body started to ache. I also began to have fever, which would go away relatively quickly with paracetamol, but which would return. Then chills began to happen. Being chilled to the bone is a very hard thing to deal with. You have nowhere to run, because the problem is felt inside, and the discomfort inescapable. It starts with cold feet and limbs, but then quickly turns into quivering of the bones inside. Then when it subsides, there is the very uncomfortable drenching of sweat on whatever clothes you are wearing. 

My isolation area was in the sala of our home. My bed was the sofa which was slightly tilted to the left side. causing some discomfort when in lying position. Because three of us were sick, our remaining covid-free children and the househelp had to take on the task of serving us all our meals. All our children (including the one who was in self-isolation) were very good at systematising our processes to make more efficient and effective the tasks. My hats off to them truly, for the way they went about handling all that needed to be handled. Even while in pain, I could feel my heart swell with pride and joy as I took in their maturity and loving care in going beyond themselves to help.

Things got progressively worse for me. My fever kept returning. The doctors began to say that there was a potential need for hospitalisation. Arranging for blood testing from home was a must, to get to the bottom of why fever persisted. After over a week of on and off fever and pain, by the grace of God and with the competent medical care of my doctor cousin, I underwent a CTScan which revealed pneumonia on both lungs. The need for hospital care became more urgent, and efforts were focused on finding one which would take me in. 

Miracle 1 was that I was able to have at all the CTscan in the emergency room of hospital 1. They were so full and did not want to accept any more transactions, much less from walk-ins. The five hours we were there, in the driveway outside the emergency room, was quite an ordeal but worth the wait. And the results, which showed moderate to severe pneumonia, and an inflammation marker way beyond normal level was the trigger to get me into a hospital soon. 

Miracle 2 was that I was able to finally be admitted into a government hospital the evening of March 30. We waited patiently in the car for some time, before being given a go signal by the hospital staff to go down from the car. When I finally sat on the wheelchair the staff provided, I was so aware that it was indeed a blessing to even have the opportunity to get this far.  A miracle truly. I pound my heart with deep gratitude whenever I think of this. (During the end of March 2021, the number of covid cases in our country was at its peak, with around fifteen thousand new cases each day! It seemed like next to impossible really, to get into any hospital. There were countless people who would line up outside the emergency rooms and driveways of the hospitals. Some even died while in line. What a blessing indeed, to be allowed admission and to finally be under the competent care of the team of covid doctors.  

So on that March 30 eve, I finally settled into the room. There was no food served since it was past supper time. I just ate a pack of skyflakes that I brought in my shoulder bag. It took me a very long time though to consume one pack, because my appetite was almost nil.  All I wanted was to lie in down, hoping it would give relief to my very aching body.  I was relieved to be there, even if I was all alone as no family member is allowed to accompany a covid patient.

Meanwhile, at home, the situation was still very challenging. My husband and son were were still recovering from their mild, but off and on painful symptoms.  My other two children on at the other hand, had been serving everyone's needs for several days already, even while trying to get their regular work done.  There was the fear that was just there, looming about, that they and our househelp might also catch the virus. And they were also worrying about me there in the hospital. Many uncertainties to face.

On another angle though, perhaps everyone at home also breathed a sigh of relief that I was now under hospital care. The stress over how else they could help me while at home, I imagine, had been quite high. What food to encourage me to eat, how to acquire and set up an oxygen tank, the need to keep an eye on my state of health, to review the oximeter and thermometer readings, and so on and so forth. 

When we said goodbye to each other that day, there was the silent understanding that many things were up in the air. There was really no certainty about the outcome. Would we be able to see each other again? The thought would pass through my mind with each goodbye, but not linger. There was no time and no mental space for that at that time. I just made sure that when we said goodbye, I tried to convey as much love as I could with my eyes, with my attempt at a smile, and with two hands in prayer pose. And as I was finally wheeled away from the outside world and along the long, dark and relatively empty  corridors of the hospital, I prayed to God to bless them with all His love. It felt good to have a family that can see you off, and that you know cared about you and that you cared about. Inside the hospital, I was now alone but not alone. Physical space is different from heart space. Physical space was now silent and empty, but heart space was full to overflowing with love from and of family.