[Surviving 47 days in a Korean COVID-19 Hospital] Part 1: Burnt Toast

Photo taken at a health center on my last day of COVID-19 confinement

Sunshine hit my tired eyes as I rolled out of my bed to start my day. Walking over to the living room, eyes half-shut, legs still asleep, I started brewing my coffee on a Mr.Coffee pot and carved out a circle from a slice of bread to make egg-in-a-whole. The sizzling sound of my toast and the turbulent noise from my cheap coffee machine filled the room as I turned my attention outside, thinking about video conference calls that would start in a couple hours. As I dwelt on how long the COVID-19 situation would last in NYC, I noticed black shadows in front of my eyes. I followed these strange moving shadows that glided through the air and saw a fully burnt toast on my cast iron, letting out more smoke every second. I stood there for a couple minutes as I tried to understand how my living room became engulfed in smoke without me noticing. I sniffed my nose multiple times and got closer to the now-charcoaled bread before eventually turning the gas off and throwing the cast iron in my sink. I opened my windows to let the smoke out and took out lime juice, hot sauce, mayonnaise, and everything in the fridge that had once tickled my nose.

I had lost my sense of smell.

Confusion and panic ensued as my mind rushed through video clips I watched about the coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) spreading in NYC. I started browsing news online about loss of smell. Multiple articles popped up describing anosmia, a partial/complete loss of smell, and how it had been reported in numerous COVID-19 patients. Disbelief and laughter echoed in my living room that had been filled with dark smoke moments ago. My roommate, a dear friend of mine, had told me a week before that he felt feverish. We joked to each other that we might have the virus, but we were certain it was a simple cold since we stayed inside and were careful about going outside. Trying my best to calm my fast-beating heart, I started my calls.

Based on a colleague’s suggestion, I scheduled a virtual call with a doctor to see if I could get tested for COVID-19. Unfortunately, the information I received was no different than guidelines I read from the World Health Organization or media outlets. The doctor asked me if I had a fever, shortness of breath, fatigue, and all other symptoms related to the disease. Since I didn’t have any severe symptoms, I was told that I couldn’t get tested per New York State’s COVID-19 policies. I hung up the call, feeling helpless. That was two weeks before my planned trip to South Korea, where I was scheduled to attend my brother’s wedding.

Days passed as I woke up and spent my mornings and afternoons without any solution or remedy. I kept searching for ways to get tested in NYC while I stuffed my mouth with deep-fried food, cookies, and anything that would make me taste again. Nothing worked. Questions roamed through my mind as I had daily discussions with my parents on how I should quarantine myself once I land in Korea. They started purchasing plastic shields to put between the front & back parts of the car to pick me up from the airport. They even carefully crafted a walking route I could take in the apartment for two weeks, which would’ve enabled me to avoid being in direct contact with my parents. No matter how many planning sessions we held, however, I couldn’t stop thinking about the worst case scenario: infecting my parents with COVID-19 and putting them in danger.

People walk around the streets in Hwajung, South Korea with masks on

A few days before I started my journey, the South Korean government announced mandatory testing for all passengers coming into Korea. They laid out a carefully structured plan that would make sure that anyone with COVID-19 would not get in contact with people living in the country. With this process, I felt slightly more comfortable travelling to Korea. I would be able to get tested upon arrival at the airport, which could lead to two scenarios:

1. I test negative and stay inside an apartment for a 14-day quarantine.
2. I test positive and stay in a health center provided by the Korean government until I test negative.

Considering numerous articles that I read about COVID-19 and their average duration of 14 days in patients, I felt confident that I would test negative. Even if I tested positive, I would recover in a few days and get out of the health center before my brother’s wedding. Nervous but hopeful, I headed towards JFK on Thursday, April 2nd.

Little did I know I would end up staying in Korea for over two months, half of the time confined in a small room with no exit.