Rollin’ off the Rona with a Cocktail of Emotions
Testing positive for COVID-19 was a gut punch.
The first thing that crossed my mind was fear in the pit of my stomach that I may have infected others, my elderly parents, my sister or my nephews.
I read everything I could find about the disease. I wanted to know, for example, how long the incubation period was, and realized that there was probably a window of about a week where I was asymptomatic and could have been spreading the virus. Thankfully, prior to feeling ill, I had limited my interactions with my family and the people at home. I read stories of super spreaders across the world and it was enough to decide that I was not about that life.
The second thing that comes to mind, is how did I get it and where? I took all the precautions they say you should adhere to. I barely left the house and even angered some of my family members when I refused visitations.
I spent a day and a half trying to contact-trace my way through how I might have contracted the virus. Some friends I knew from elsewhere who tested positive for COVID-19, tried to calm me down by telling me it’s unlikely that I will ever know how I got sick. I couldn’t agree more. But I still couldn’t help asking myself — how did this happen?! I mean, I sanitize my steering wheel.
By the time I got my results, I had been showing symptoms for ten days, and because there were no complications around my breathing and oxygen levels, there was a recognition that I was on a path to recovery. My temperature normalized a few days after finding out my results.
The cough remained persistent, and at times aggressive. I tried to do breathing exercises, but I couldn’t take clean breaths without coughing. Thankfully the cough stopped around 16 days after showing symptoms.
Even as the cough was improving, I struggled to sleep through the night. A friend of mine in New York, who had fallen sick with the virus, told me I should try to sleep on my stomach. This tactic, plus a bottle of Benlyin, a cough syrup, not a new type of whisky in case you are wondering, went a long way in helping me sleep.
After a stabilizing temperature, my appetite was slowly normalizing. The taste of water was still pretty terrible (felt like I was tasting all the chemicals in the water).
This struggle to eat happened during my favorite time of the year — Ramadhan. This is when breaking my fast means munching on some of my beloved dishes. This features the all-star fried team — kaymati, chapati, mandazi, samosas. None of it appealed to me and I just couldn’t eat any of it (did I mention kaymatis?).
I shed ten pounds in about a week. Matched with the Rona beard that every gentleman is rocking around the world, it truly wasn’t a good look.
This virus, at least for me, gets in your head.
I was oddly relieved to find out that I tested positive for the coronavirus. It helped me get rid of weeks of anxiety and worry. Now that I was sure, I had it, it was a question of dealing with it and praying that I get better. I was forced to tackle the situation upfront, instead of the constant feeling of dread.
By the time Eid rolled around, over a week after testing positive, I was symptom free. The moment was bittersweet but still a nice way to celebrate the end of Ramadhan. I knew things could have been worse.
The scariest part of this disease is its unpredictability. Yes, people say that the elderly are the ones who are hit hardest by the coronavirus. But I have also read stories of people my age, in their 30s, who struggle mightily to survive this virus. So, I was thankful when it appeared that my symptoms had all but disappeared.
Yet, I was anxious that the coronavirus was in me and that I could still be contagious. I managed a socially distant Eid lunch with my mom (in a house that is usually packed with family and friends visiting; it was just the two of us at the dinner table).
With zero will power, I tore into two full plates of biryani.
This was a big moment. For about a year and half, I stopped eating rice and limited my red meat consumption. But a few punches to the face by Rona made me say, “screw it, I’m going all in on this rice.”
After Eid, I still had a few days until I went in for another test to find out if I was free of COVID-19. In the meantime, questions lingered — was I still contagious? Will COVID-19 ever leave my system? What does all this mean for the future of my immune system? What about all those weird post-COVID aches and pains people get? At the moment, no one really has complete answers to these questions, because let’s face it, there is so much we do not know about COVID-19.
In fact, it’s remarkable to me how much we have come to learn about the coronavirus, since its outbreak was confirmed six months ago. That being said, there is also a lot about its nature that remains unknown. This is why I am unsure where I fall on the debate over how to deal with the Rona.
Is locking down a country and forcing people to stay at home the best way to stop the spread of the virus? I have no idea. What some have argued is that, by asking people to stay at home and limiting their movement, it buys you time to eventually contain it as you will at least be able to slow the spread of the virus as you deal with those who have fallen really sick.
But others have pointed to the often-debated Swedish model of herd immunity. Is that the way to go? Who knows? All I can say is, at a personal level, I’m not sure about this approach.
In my mind it is asking me, to potentially, put at risk my father and mother, your parents and aunties, uncles and anyone with a pre-existing condition, and hope that as more people get sick, we will develop the antibodies to fight off its effects. I struggle with this view, especially as barely six months ago, no one had a clue how this disease works.
It’s a cocktail of emotions. And that’s the Rona for you. All these thoughts were going through my head as I was getting ready to get tested again.
Going for my second test at the clinic was obviously less dramatic than going the first time around. A simple mouth swab and I was done. I was told to expect my results in 3–4 days.
The test results never came back.
Not entirely sure why or what happened. But that on its own was as symbolic as falling flat on my face in a pile of mud.
